Page 33 of Stepbrother Mine

“Ow,” I whimper, holding my chest when I’m finished and grabbing yet another tissue. “You were saying?” I ask. I blow, and he can’t help laughing.

“I fucking love you, Sebastian,” he says, smiling widely at me, and my eyes fill with tears as I reach over and wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him. His next words have me full on crying. “I think you and I were inevitable, little brother.”

“I love you, too,” I squeak. He snickers and I smack him. We eat our soup with him sitting at my feet and we’re both glancing at each other like love struck teenagers the entire time. I feel like shit but I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.

Two days later, Mom Facetimes me and I’m floating so much from Rome’s confession that I answer the phone with a big grin. I still sound like a dying frog and everything hurts, but my fever has been gone since last night.

“Hey,” I say, and she grins at me.

“Hey, baby.” Her pink lips pull into a frown. “Are you okay, Sebastian? You don’t look so good, or sound so good for that matter.”

“I’m fine,” I say, still congested. “Just a cold.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” she coos.

“I’m okay Mom, really,” I promise. “And Rome is taking good care of me.” I look at him and he grins.

“Oh, of course he is,” Mom says. “Hi, Rome!”

“Hey, Gwen,” he replies, waving even though she can’t see him because the phone is still facing me.

“Well, I’m calling because your birthday is next weekend and Martin and I would love for you boys to come home so we can celebrate as a family. We don’t get to do that much these days with work and everything, but we’ll both be off. What do you say?”

“Yeah, Mom, that sounds good. I’m sure I’ll be better by then.”

“Okay, great. It’s your birthday so you pick the restaurant for dinner, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, sweetie, I’ll let you go so you can rest. Love you!”

“Love you, too, Mom, bye.” I hang up, and immediately afterwards start sneezing.

“I have to go,” Rome says, guilt marring his features. I know he hates to leave me, but I’m really doing better and he needs to make it to his classes and work. “Text me if you need anything.” He bends down and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Love you,” he says and my chest expands just like every other time he’s said it in the past three days.

“Love you, too,” I say, then start coughing again as he heads out the door.

Chapter Sixteen

ROME

PRESENT DAY

The following morning, Sebastian is not only still sick, but grumpy and pouty. He’s feeling a little bit better but not well enough that we’re having sex or doing anything intimate, including cock warming. As miserable as he is, he still wants it, needs it, even, but I can’t let him when he’s like this. It wouldn’t be good for either of us.

I make him some tea for his throat which he tells me tastes like the devil’s anus, making me laugh. He pouts when I’m apparently not amused enough to let him skip it. He’s not wrong. The stuff is putrid, but it will help if he finishes it, and he’ll sleep better. He does drink it, more to appease me than anything else, I think. I’m pretty sure if I wasn’t here he’d just suffer with a sore throat. But I can’t have him being exhausted.

After the tea, I help him shower and then change the sheets on his bed, since he’s been sleeping in there for the past few nights so as not to wake me. As much as I hated it, I had to get some sleep and he’s been up coughing so much there’s no way I could sleep through it. I miss him in my bed more than anything, and in my arms. I hate that after I told him I loved him we’re stuck not being able to make love until he’s better, and then hoping I don’t get sick, too. So far so good, but you never know. And god, my cock aches for him. I want those lips against mine again. I want to show him how much he means to me with my body because words just aren’t enough.

“Want your cock, big brother,” he murmurs as I pull the blankets up over him and he drifts to sleep once more.

“Soon,” I tell him, then kiss his forehead.

When I return home that night, Sebastian has once again turned the couch into his makeshift bed and is lying in front of the television watching some nature show that looks about as entertaining as watching paint dry.

“Why are you watching this?” I ask. He pouts. His voice is still a bit off when he talks and it’s the cutest thing in the world.

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