Page 13 of Puck My Stepbrother
“Look,” I said, “I don’t want to get away from the most important topic here. I just found you in my room. I don’t want you in here without my permission ever again. Got it?”
“But we’re going to be brothers.”
“Stepbrothers, Levi.Step. And you’ve already taken one room in this house from me. Can’t you let me have the room I did get?”
He laughed out loud and clapped my back again.
As you know by now, that’s as close to an admission of guilt as he was willing to get.
But I wouldn’t stop. I had to stand up to this guy.
“Of course you can,” he said. “I just figured it wasn’t such a big deal. You know you can come to my bedroom anytime you want, right?”
I didn’t really believe that. Wasn’t that the sort of thing guys like him said whenever they found themselves in a pickle?
“Well, I’m really not interested in?—”
“I meant it. My bedroom door’s open to you anytime. You know, like whenever, day or night?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you know I don’t even have to be in there, but it would be even better if you paid me an unexpected visit while Iamthere. Just walk right in any time you want. It doesn’t matter what I’m in the middle of doing.”
Normally, I would’ve figured he’d said that only to weasel out of a jam. But when his body pressed against mine, I couldn’t help thinking that something else was going on here. Something totally strange.
But what?
6
LEVI
After Quinn caught me in his bedroom, I knew I wanted him. That doesn’t sound right. I’d wanted him for a long time. Wanting Quinn wasn’t new, but brushing up against my stepbrother-to-be like that, experiencing his body in even the smallest way, was different. So, that moment didn’t tell me I wanted him. It told me I could have him.
Oh yeah, learning he was gay and not particularly shy about it helped, but I couldn’t let it rest there. I needed to take the next step.
I found him at the dining room table later, writing in his notebook. Instead of taking the chair opposite him, I decided to sit right beside him.
You know, get up nice and close.
“Working on your novel?” I asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Going okay?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t like to talk about your writing much, do you?”
He shrugged. “I guess I figure people wouldn’t really understand if I explained it to them.”
“That makes sense.”
I peered down at Quinn’s hand as he continued to write. That hot, tingly feeling returned. Something about watching him write in his notebook was sexy as hell to me. Don’t ask why—I can’t tell you exactly what it was about Quinn that made me ache with desire.
This felt so different from usual. Normally people had more to say when I fired off questions. Quinn seemed standoffish, and I knew he was trying to be difficult.
That was okay. I liked a challenge.
