The minute the words left his lips, his eyes bulged, and he jerked his head in my direction, panic all over his face like he hadn’t intended to say that out loud. “I mean—”

The doorbell rang.

Halle-fucking-lujah!

“Pizza!” we both said at the same time.

Asher darted out of the kitchen so fast he left a breeze behind. When he was gone, I spun in place, my world off-kilter and my brain in a blender. What the ever-loving fuck was happening in this house? With my brother!

Deciding it was best to forget what Ash asked, forget about the porn, the erections, and the odd looks on his face I couldn’t read, I rummaged through the cupboards, collecting plates for our food.

This third dimension, this alternate reality where Asher showed some kind of weird fascination with everything gay didn’t exist. Especially since it all surrounded me.

I ejected it all from my head and sat at the island, cool as a cucumber, and waited for him to come back with our food.

Dinner was quiet.

Long silences were normal between us. They weren’t uncomfortable until today. Today, they were excruciating.

“Wanna game some after food?” I asked.

Asher eyed me over his slice. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever. Some two-player, role-playing would be cool. Or a shooter.”

Ash huffed a laugh and shook his head. “We haven’t done enough role-playing for you?”

“Not that kind.”

“I know. I was kidding. Sure. You don’t want to … practice more?”

He was really intent on this whole practice thing, and I squirmed.

“Maybe we give ourselves some time to rest and think about it.”

“Yeah. Cool. Try again this weekend? I can sneak you in like I was gonna before.”

I studied Asher while he studied his pizza. “Maybe. I’ll check my schedule.”

A crease formed between his brows. “Oh. Okay. Let me know.”

Chapter Nine

I DITCHED ON Asher that weekend and the following. He texted a bunch, and my excuses were weak at best. We needed space. All this close contact was messing with my head. Asher’s too, if I was reading him right. His heightened interest in the mechanics of gay sex worried me. I’d broken him. He needed to go on a date, get laid, work out his confusion with some hot chick, and stop watching gay porn.

But why did those thoughts twist me up inside?

Why couldn’t I sit still when I considered Asher making out with some random girl then fucking her into the mattress in his bedroom? In the same spot we’d been … practicing.

Why did his mouth haunt my dreams?

Twice in two weeks, I’d woken up out of a dead sleep, hard as a rock with the memory of Asher’s taste on my lips and his hands on my skin. It was too much.