Page 60 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

“Why? Why them, I mean?”

“Because two of them were lying, and one of them didn’t even try to get to know me.”

I tilt my head a fraction. “You’re not supposed to break the rules.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I flush. Breaking the rules is apparently going around lately.

His lips lift into a smirk. “Neither are you. Can I sit?”

I wave at the pillows beside me. “It’s a free country.”

He sprawls close, not so close that I can feel the heat of his body, but close enough that I can smell the shampoo in his wet hair. He’s wearing dark gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, casual as hell.

I nibble my bottom lip and close my book, squinting a little. “What I said earlier…” I trail off. I’m not exactly sure how to say what I mean.

But he nods like he already knows. “Yeah. Me too.”

I huff. “You don’t know what I meant.”

He studies me. “Try me.”

“That stuff I wrote on the card. I didn’t realize it would be read out loud. I’ve never actually said any of that before. Not even to myself.”

It’s terrifying to admit I meant every word. That the performance is blurring. That he’s starting to feel dangerously real.

Ryan absorbs my words. I can see it in the way he doesn’t rush to speak.

“It didn’t sound fake,” I say. “Because it wasn’t.”

I shift on the couch and my knee bumps his. I peer at his handsome face, like I’m trying to decode an enigma.

“Do you think I’m still pretending?” I ask softly.

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at me for a long time, his gaze steady on my face.

“Maybe I’m not,” I whisper.

The truth sits between us, heavy and unnamed. I want to believe he’s not just playing. But wanting and believing are two very different things.

My heart pounds. I reach out and touch his forearm, tracing a pattern on his skin with my index finger. “I’m tired of pretending. Aren’t you?”

His skin is warm under my fingertip, a low hum of tension thrumming between us. I don’t know what I’m asking for. Maybe I just want to be close to someone who sees me.

Ryan casts a glance around the room like he’s checking for hidden cameras. I keep tracing little shapes on his hot skin and add, “There are no cameras. No one to watch what happens.”

He leans in so slowly it’s almost painful. I guess he’s giving me a chance to pull away.

But I don’t want that.

I fist my hand in his shirt and pull him toward me.

He brushes his lips against mine. I kiss him back. My lips are hungry, searching. The kiss is deeper than before. Slower. More real.

His hand spreads out on my back and pulls me closer. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss.

I sigh into his mouth. He pauses for a moment before whispering against my lips, “I love that fucking sound you make when I kiss you. I swear I can’t get enough of it.”

His words make my breasts tighten and my nipples harden. I ache for him to cup my breasts. I kiss him and then whisper a plea, “Touch me, Ryan. Make me feel good.”