Page 60 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

“Yes, I did. He’s a dick.”

“Why?”

He looked down at me, and something flickered in his expression. “Because watching someone hurt you makes me want to break things.”

We stared at each other.

The kitchen felt smaller and warmer. The noise from the brunch faded to background static.

“Thanks,” I said, clearing my throat quickly.

He cleared his throat as well, suddenly awkward with genuine emotion. “Yeah. Well. Fake fiancé duties.”

But it didn’t feel fake.

The way he defended me. The way his arm was still around my waist. The way he was looking at me as if I were something worth cherishing.

I didn’t know how to respond to that and didn’t know how to process the warmth spreading through my chest.

So I grabbed a gulab jamun from the tray and shoved it into his mouth.

“Here’s my fake fiancée duty.”

He bit down, eyes widening, syrup dripping down his chin.

“That’s disgusting and… so fucking sweet,” he said around the mouthful.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You just assaulted me with a dessert.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I smiled. “You defended my honor, and I’m returning the favor with calories.”

He swallowed, grinning. “Fair trade.”

“Now let me give you a taste,” he threatened, his eyes lit with amusement as I tried to back off and he pounced on me, grabbing my cheeks and kissing me clumsily.

I squealed and giggled, trying to get away when he playfully made eating noises while kissing me. I could taste the sweetness of gulab jamun and giggled when his warm hands tickled my waist.

“Ethan! Moms! Kiara! Liam is eating Deepika!”

We paused, breathing heavily as I glanced at Eveline, Ethan’s younger sister, looking at Liam, petrified.

19

I GOT HARD

LIAM

“Liam James.” Deepika’s mother cornered me by the dessert table while I was trying to figure out which sweet thing wouldn’t give me a sugar coma before my morning training session.

She said my name like a warning, as if she were about to deliver news of my imminent death.

I turned, plastering on my most charming smile. “Mrs. Sharma. Have you tried the gulab jamuns? They are incredible.”

“My daughter,” she ignored me and continued. “She looks happy with you.”

“I hope so.” I swallowed.