“I don’t think it has anything to do with what you want, and more about what you don’t want. You don’t want to disappoint your brothers.” A pause. “Isn’t that the same reason you don’t want to tell them about you and me?”

Nick looked away, but Adam kept a firm grip on his hand.

“I’m not chastising you. I understand it. I know I’m disappointing my parents every day. But you know what? I can’t live my life for them. I have to live my life for me.”

“You’re disappointing your parents?”

Adam scoffed and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Please. You think they want their only child to be a dancer? My dad is always asking if I’m sure I don’t want to take a few pre-med classes. Me. Pre-med. I can’t even slice into frogs in biology.”

“What does he do?”

“He is a doctor.” Adam smiled. “Wait, ready for some irony?

He’s a gynecologist. Mom tells him that he’s looked at so many vaginas that I came out predisposed to avoid them.”

Nick burst out laughing.

“There.” Adam whipped out his phone and snapped a picture. “I needed one with your smile.”

“You’re incorrigible.” But Nick snatched the phone and took another picture—of Adam trying to get it back.

They wrestled for it, laughing, rolling, a tangle of limbs and mock fierceness. Then Adam’s lips found his, his body trapping Nick on the bed, the hand that had just been grappling for the phone stroking down the length of his chest, finding the hem of his shirt and sliding underneath.

For the first time, Nick didn’t hesitate at his touch. Maybe it was Adam’s admission about his own insecurities, maybe it was the fact that they were here, in his room, in his space. Maybe it was the time limit, knowing this could be cut short at any moment if his brothers came home.

Maybe it was Adam’s tongue drawing at his.

A thumb brushed his nipple and Nick gasped, feeling it all the way through his body. He grabbed the hem of his own shirt and broke the kiss long enough to yank it over his head.

Adam grinned. “Someone’s feeling more comfortable.”

“Someone’s liking the feel of your hands.”

“Just my hands?” Adam’s mouth descended on his neck, trailing lips and breath and teeth along Nick’s skin.

Nick sucked in a breath—then held it when Adam kissed a line down his chest.

Brown eyes flicked up to meet his. “What do you want?”

Adam whispered.

You.

But he couldn’t say it.

Adam brushed a kiss against his lips, then shifted off the bed.

Nick caught his arm. “Don’t. Don’t go.”

Low laughter. “I’m not going anywhere.” Adam stretched to turn off the light, sending the room into near darkness.

When he reached for the door, Nick sat up on his elbows.

“Leave it open so I can hear if anyone comes home.”

Adam closed it halfway. Nick was going to protest even that, but then Adam pulled his shirt over his head, and Nick forgot his own last name.

“Whoa,” he breathed. “I think you need to turn the light back on.”

Adam crawled back on the bed, his dusky skin rolling with shadows as he moved. “You sweet-talker.”

Nick wanted to reach out, to let his fingers drift across the muscled planes of Adam’s chest, but he couldn’t move. He’d spent so long denying any kind of attraction to a boy that having one shirtless in his bed was making every nerve ending hy-persensitive. He felt like a land mine. One touch and he’d explode. “Why did you turn the light off?”

Adam eased in close to him, until their chests were touching.

He put a hand against Nick’s cheek and kissed him. “Because it’s easier to turn off worries in the dark.”

Nick met his eyes in the darkness. “Yours or mine?”

“Both.” Then Adam kissed him again, a broad hand explor-ing Nick’s chest. Nick touched his face, his shoulder, letting his hands roam. His teeth nipped at Adam’s lip, then his jaw.

Adam made a soft sound, a good sound. Nick did it again, biting a little harder. The room felt ten degrees warmer. Maybe twenty. He had to be doing it, but he didn’t care.

Adam trapped one of Nick’s legs under his and shifted closer, pressing into him until there was no doubt he was happy to be there. Now Nick couldn’t help the low moan that escaped his throat. His breathing quickened, thrusting his chest into Adam’s with every inhale.

Adam’s hand drifted lower, finding Nick’s stomach, slow fingers sliding along the waistband of his jeans.

Adam’s hands, his mouth—Nick couldn’t think. His body was acting on instinct, and he couldn’t process every emotion.

Especially when Adam stopped teasing and stroked his hand over the front of Nick’s jeans. No hesitation, no gentleness, but enough grip to steal every thought from Nick’s head. He sucked in a breath. The room spun.

“Too much?” whispered Adam.

“Not enough.”

Deft fingers flipped the button loose. Before Nick could con-template exactly what that meant, Adam was touching him.

Nick cried out. Adam captured the sound with a kiss.

He never wanted this moment to end.

And then it did.

Someone called his name and the overhead light flipped on.

Suddenly Nick was scrambling to right himself.

Then Hunter was swiftly backing out of the room, saying,