Page 64 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

“Back in that closet,” I said before I could stop myself. “During seven minutes in heaven…”

She frowned. “What about it?”

“I was pissed at you because my body reacted in a way I didn’t like,” I admitted, my voice dropping an octave.

She blinked, her dark, almond-shaped eyes widening as the gears turned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I was fourteen and I hated your guts, yet I was standing there in the dark with my cock hard as a fucking rock just because you breathed near me.”

Deepika’s jaw dropped. A slow, wicked grin began to spread across her face, making her look absolutely devilish. “Oh my god. Liam James. You were attracted to me. You had a crush on your mortal enemy.”

I scowled, trying to maintain some shred of dignity. “It wasn’t a crush. It was… just a biological malfunction. An involuntary reflex.”

She flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder with enough drama to win an Oscar. “An involuntary reflex to my hotness?”

I pursed my lips, fighting the urge to let out a laugh at her sheer arrogance. “Yes, Sharma. To your annoying, undeniable hotness.”

She saw the corner of my mouth twitch and lunged forward, poking me hard in the stomach. “Stop laughing! I know you find me hot—hey, stop giggling!”

The laughter broke out of me, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated in my chest. She huffed, her face flushing a beautiful shade of rose, and stomped toward the bathroom. I followed close behind, my eyes locked on the rhythmic sway of her hips and the way her unhooked blouse teased the skin of her back.

She let out a playful squeal when I didn't stop at the doorway, but instead started stripping with efficient, practiced movements. “What are you doing, you golden-haired pervert!”

“I’m showering with you. Duh,” I said, pulling my kurta over my head and tossing it toward the hamper. I made quick work of my slacks, kicking them aside until I stood before her completely naked.

I could feel the steam already starting to curl around us as I reached past her to crank the handle. The shower hissed to life, the heavy, rhythmic drum of water hitting the tiles.

I stepped into her space, my hands finding the soft, pliant skin of her waist and pulling her flush against me. My cock, thick and heavy, pressed firmly against her stomach.

“I don’t remember inviting a fish boy into my⁠—”

I cut her off by cupping her face in both hands, my thumbs grazing her cheekbones. “Shut up, Sharma.”

I crashed my mouth onto hers, and the banter died instantly. I kissed her until she melted, her fingers tangling in my hair and pulling me closer. The bathroom filled with the scent of jasmine and the sharp, clean aroma of my sandalwood soap. I walked us backward into the spray, the water turning hot and stinging against my back.

The deluge soaked us both in seconds. Her hair turned into a dark, silken curtain. I could taste the salt of the water and the sweetness of her mouth as she kissed me back with a desperate, hungry intensity, her tongue tangling with mine in a frantic rhythm.

I slid my hands down to her ass, lifting her so her legs wrapped around my waist, her wet skin sliding perfectly against mine. The friction was electric, a searing heat that made my head spin.

I wish the water could wash away the strange, terrifying feelings bubbling in my gut. A weird ache that felt less like hate and more like something I wasn’t ready to name yet.

20

DON’T EAT ALL THE CEREAL

DEEPIKA

“You’re shaking, Sharma,” Liam whispered against my ear, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that I felt in my bones. He had me pinned against the cold, wet tiles, the contrast of the freezing stone against my back and his hot body against my front making my head spin.

“It’s the water, you idiot,” I snapped, though my hands were busy gripping his massive, wet biceps for dear life.

“Liar,” he crooned, and then he was sinking. He dropped to his knees in the spray, his blond hair plastered to his forehead, looking up at me with those storm-gray eyes that were dark with a terrifyingly focused intent.

He didn’t hesitate to grab my hips, his fingers digging into my curves, and buried his face between my thighs. I let out a sharp gasp as his tongue lapped across my clit in one long, expert stroke. The sensation was electric, a hot bolt of lightning that made my knees buckle. If he hadn’t been holding me so tightly, I would have slid right down the wall.

“Liam, wait—” I gasped, my fingers tangling in his wet hair.

But of course, he didn’t wait. He was an Olympian with the lungs of a whale and the endurance of a god. He began to eat me out with ruthless, rhythmic precision, his tongue swirling around my sensitive nub before he sucked it deep into his mouth. I could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth on me over the roar of the shower.