Page 76 of Love to Loathe Him

“You look far too smart for getting ready on that boat.”

“All I’ve done is shower and put on a suit. What, did you expect me to have a private tailor on standby?”

“No need for the snark, Liam. Why are you staying on the boat anyway? It’s not like you’re strapped for cash.”

I shrug, taking a sip of my drink. “I prefer it to staying in a hotel.”

Her eyes narrow. “You mean you don’t want to stay with the team.”

“I like to maintain a healthy separation. Boundaries are important.”

She glances down pointedly at my thigh, which is still pressed intimately between her legs. When her eyes meet mine again, there’s a distinct challenge there. “You’re not very separate right now, are you?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is there a point to all these questions, or are you just generally interested in my sleeping arrangements?”

She purses those full lips, and an image flashes of them wrapped around my cock, taking me deep. I blink hard, forcing it away.

“I see brooding billionaire banker Liam is back in full force,” she says. “I have to say, I miss fisherman Liam.”

I lean in just a fraction, my voice dropping to a low rumble. “He misses you too, Gemma. Probably more than he fucking should.”

What the hell am I doing? Flirting with Gemma, of all people? I must be losing my goddamn mind. I need to regain control of the situation.

Gemma seems equally caught off guard by my brazen words, her eyes widening and her breath hitching in a way that has me fighting to remember my rule.

Clearing my throat, I take a step back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “We should head to the table. Dinner will be starting soon, and I don’t want to be responsible for the HR manager going hungry.”

Maybe if I keep reminding myself of her position, I’ll be able to keep my dick in check. Understand that this is more effort than it’s worth.

She blinks, coming back to herself. “Right. We should go.”

Gemma and I are the last ones to reach our table, and it’s clear the team has left the two seats right in the middle open for us. Twenty of them are there—from finance to IT, and of course, my two top sailors who were delegated to the other boat. The boat that actually had a chance in the race, that is. They pulled up within a hair’s breadth of us.

I drag out Gemma’s chair for her, and from the look of shock on her face, you’d think I just saved a litter of kittens from a burning building.

“Don’t look so surprised. I am a gentleman, believe it or not.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me, smirking. “I’ll have to double-check the dictionary definition of ‘gentleman,’ then.”

“Just because I demand excellence from my team and I’m not afraid to give orders, doesn’t mean I can’t be one when the situation calls for it. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

We settle into our seats, and I raise my glass, offering a toast to the team.

“Tough break about the loss, Liam,” Robbie says cautiously, cutting into his steak. “Especially against Vertex.”

I smile, but it’s all teeth and no warmth. “I’ll get over it.”

The truth is, losing fucking stings. Especially to Alastair. I hate the thought of that smug prick lording this over me.

Even if Gemma was right and it bought me brownie points with Sir Whitmore.

“So, you’re quite the sailor, huh?” Robbie asks between bites. “You come down here often?”

I cut into my own steak, starving after a day of trying to single-handedly win a sailing race. “I spend a fair amount of time down here, yeah. At least once a month.”

“What is it that you love about sailing?” Gemma asks, those big green eyes of hers fixed on me, like she gives a damn about my answer.

“If you have to ask, Gemma, after the day we just had, then I guess it didn’t make much of an impression on you.”