Page 90 of Heartless Stepbrother

Riley didn’t walk ahead of me.

He didn’t walk beside me either.

He walked just one step behind, close enough that I could feel the weight of his presence at my back, warm, aware, unignorable.

“You’re walking too stiff,” he murmured, voice low enough that it skimmed the nape of my neck. “Relax.”

“I’m not stiff.”

He made a quiet sound. Not quite a laugh. More like he didn’t believe me for a second.

“If you say so.”

My hand tightened on the railing.

He wasn’t touching me, but somehow it felt like he was.

When we reached the landing, the hallway stretched long and clean, dimmed by soft sconces along the wall. Three doors on each side. Minimal. Private. Too quiet.

Riley stopped at the last two doors facing each other.

“This is your bedroom,” he said.

I blinked.

“Which one?”

He tapped the door on the right. “That one.”

“And this?” I gestured at the door directly across.

“Mine.” His mouth curved, slow and knowing. “Convenient, right?”

My heart picked up speed. “Convenient for what?”

“Checking on you.”

A beat.

“Making sure you don’t get lost.”

Another beat.

“And if you need something, I don’t have to walk far.”

He leaned a shoulder lightly against his doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. He looked so sure of himself, like he didn’t see the hallway as simple architecture but as something that bent to his every whim.

“You’re staring,” he said softly.

I snapped my gaze away. “I’m not.”

“You are.” He tilted his head, studying me the way someone studies a secret they already half-solved. “It’s cute.”

Heat climbed my throat.

He stepped closer, not enough to touch, but enough to make the distance feel thin.

“You nervous?” he asked.