Page 116 of Naughty November

At least he’s talking.

“Are you sure? I bought all your favorites. There are even chocolate truffles.”

He bit his bottom lip, and his gaze flickered to the croissants, muffins, fruit parfait, scrambled eggs with herbs, and smoked salmon bagels.

“That’s too much food.” He gestured to a small gift box. “And what’s this? You think it’ll make up for you being an ass?”

“All right, if you don’t want it—” I reached over the marble countertop, but before I could take the box, he snatched it up. I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep a straight face.

“I didn’t say I don’t want it. I said it won’t make up for you being an ass. The two things can be true, you know.” He sat on a chair and loosened the ribbon. “Orange juice, please.”

Shaking my head at his bossy command, I dutifully poured him some orange juice, then waited for his reaction. He opened the small box, pulled apart the tissue paper, and gasped.

Bingo.

How could he stay mad at me when I knew him best?

“Kee.” My name fell from his lips in a caress. Those same lips parted, and the familiar stirrings started in my groin. I swallowed.

“It’s perfect.” He brushed his fingertip over the genuine 14 karat gold necklace and the pendant.

“What’s the universe’s most beautiful number?” I asked softly. I knew he knew the answer, so technically, it wasn’t one of our usual trivia questions where I tried to get one on him.

“The golden ratio denoted by phi.” He took the necklace out and held it up to view. “You remembered? I must have mentioned that eight years ago, and it wasn’t anything significant.”

Everything you say is significant.

I could listen to him ramble on about random facts and numbers for hours and never get tired, even if I didn’t understand half—no, three-quarters—of it.

“I listen to you, Iggy. Always have.” I took the necklace from him. “Let me put it on.”

“But it must be expensive. I can’t wear it every day.”

“Sure you can.”

I slipped the chain around his neck and fastened it. He positioned the pendant. “How does it look?”

“Beautiful.” Because he was beautiful, and that was the reason I couldn’t let anyone touch him and defile him. He was sweet and innocent and deserved for his first time to be with someone special—someone who loved him.

Someone like me.

But that person couldn’t be me.

Our parents would freak out. They’d already accused me of leading him astray and making him move far away from home to attend college. They never wanted to acknowledge the truth—they’d smothered and overprotected him. He’d been relieved to get away from them.

But aren’t you being overprotective too?

That’s different.

How so?

It just is.

“Do you love it?” I asked to chase off the conversation inside my head.

“I hate to admit it, but I do. Now, how am I supposed to stay mad at you?”

“Am I the best stepbro or what?”