Page 47 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

“You missed some spots,” he said, his voice low.

“Did I?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. His eyes were dark and heated. “My chest, stomach, and abs. They’re very easy to burn.”

I bit my lip, squeezed more sunscreen into my hands, and started on his chest. His pecs were unfairly defined, and I could feel his heartbeat under my palms. It was fast. Faster than it should be if he were as unaffected as he looked.

Down his sternum, over his abs, each ridge was distinct under my fingers. Lower, to where the muscle dipped into his swim trunks.

I flicked my eyes up to see him through my lashes, and his breath hitched.

“Liam! Get in the pool, man!” someone shouted.

We both jerked back as if we had been electrocuted.

Liam cleared his throat. “Thanks. Uh, for the sunscreen… yeah.”

“Uh-huh, no problem.”

He dove into the pool, and it was a perfect dive.

Then he surfaced, swam to the edge where I was standing, and held out his hand instead of swimming to his friends.

“Join me.”

I stared at his hands. The water dripping from his soft, golden hair as droplets on his shoulders caught the light.

Maybe I should have just hung around the girlfriends and wives of the medalists, but I took his hand instead.

Because I wanted to swim with him without drowning him.

His fingers closed around mine, and it was warm and perfect. The way our hands touched and the smile that reached his eyes.

We played ridiculous and competitive games that involved teams and inflatable balls, and a lot of shouting. I had forgotten how fun it was to just play and to laugh until my stomach hurt.

Liam piggy-backed me during one game, his hands secure under my thighs, and we won the game against two Olympic rowers and their partners.

“We’re unstoppable!” I shouted, still on his back.

“Told you we make a good team,” he said, grinning up at me.

And I looked down at him with water droplets on his face, gray eyes soft and warm in the sunlight, smiling at me like I had won gold, and I felt something shift.

I was accepting his presence without feeling the urge to drown him.

That’s dangerous.

After stepping out of the pool, I wasn’t surprised when Liam pressed close to me, wrapping me in a towel and said, “Come on, I’ll help you dry off.”

I stayed silent when he dragged me to a room. “You know I don’t need your help to dry—mmfgh!”

He had closed the door shut, his mouth pressed against me as he trapped me against the door and him.

15

WE’RE IN PUBLIC

DEEPIKA