Nick flinched.

Adam pulled a can of whipped cream out of the refrigerator and shook it like he meant it harm. “You can’t live your whole life waiting around to make sure people approve of the choices you make. That’s why you’ve got a drawer full of unopened college letters. That’s why you’ve got a house full of brothers who didn’t have a clue about what you wanted. That’s why—”

Nick shoved him up against the refrigerator and kissed him.

Hard.

Adam’s breath caught, but he kissed him back, matching Nick’s intensity. The can of whipped cream hit the floor. Fingers tangled in Nick’s hair.

Nick caught his wrists and broke the kiss, pinning Adam against the refrigerator with hands and body. He could feel everything, but he wasn’t blushing now.

Adam’s eyes were heavy with desire, but maybe a little fear hid there, too. His breathing came fast, too fast.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Nick said, his voice low. Despite Adam’s lecture about doing what he wanted, there were real stakes here. He softened his hold on Adam’s wrists and backed off a bit, leaning in to kiss his cheek, the edge of his jaw, using his teeth to nip at the sensitive skin below his ear.

Adam’s breath shuddered. “I like it,” he whispered, so softly that Nick might not have heard him if not for the air carrying the sound to his ears.

Nick hesitated, the warm skin of Adam’s neck under his lips.

“What was that?”

When he didn’t get an answer, he drew back.

The first night Adam brought him here, Nick had followed instincts and pressed Adam down on the couch. Adam had called a stop to it—for understandable reasons—but what had he said?

You’re strong. I’m not complaining.

Nick searched his face. He took a chance. He seized Adam’s wrist and dragged him. “Come on.”

When they made it to the shadowed cavern of Adam’s bedroom, Nick didn’t hesitate. He shut the door, closing the darkness in around them. Then he grabbed the hem of Adam’s shirt and pulled, dragging it over his head.

Then he shoved Adam up against the wall and kissed him again, holding nothing back. He let his hands explore, pinning Adam’s wrists when he tried to do the same. Letting Adam’s breath guide him.

When the air whispered of fear again, Nick gentled his touch and leaned close to whisper. “You’ll tell me to stop if we get too rough?”

“You promise to stop if I say so?”

Nick caught his face in his hands and kissed him. “Yes. Yes, I promise. I will never hurt you. I promise.”

Again, his brain whispered. I will never hurt you again.

“Then keep going,” said Adam.

Nick kept going.

And Adam never said stop.

CHAPTER 27

Nick woke to sunlight peeking through the blinds and Adam’s breath on his neck. A muscled arm lay across his bare chest. The air was full of warmth and comfort and satisfaction.

He didn’t want to move.

But he was going to have to.

He eased out from under that arm, sliding across the sheets as silently as he was able. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and closed himself in the bathroom, begging the air to trap any noise in here with him.

Nick wished for a toothbrush and a razor, but made do with a capful of Scope, splashing cold water on his face for good measure.

Then he studied himself in the mirror. His hair stood up in tufts, and he ran a hand through it, trying to make it less of a mess. Useless. His cheek sported the bare remnants of a bruise that would probably disappear altogether by tomorrow.

Looking at his face made him think of his twin brother. He needed to get the hell out of this bathroom.

Nick eased the door open and found Adam still asleep, in exactly the same position he’d left him. Soft, even breathing, unruly hair drifting across his forehead. Nick wanted to curl up next to him and watch him sleep, but he didn’t want to live up to the creepy freak moniker that closely.

Nick snatched his T-shirt from the corner and padded out of the room, pulling the door almost closed behind him.

The clock on Adam’s microwave revealed that it was barely past seven—still early, especially on a Saturday. And now that he was out here, he wasn’t sure what to do. No phone, no car—

not that he had anywhere to go. No television, even.

He made himself useful and poured out the abandoned mugs from last night, filling them with water to soak in the sink along with the saucepan. Then he poked around long enough to find coffee filters and a bag of grounds. He worried that his banging around would wake Adam, but the air still felt heavy with sleep.

And now that the brewer was dripping, Nick felt awkward, like maybe he shouldn’t be out here alone. What if Adam didn’t want him rifling through his things? What if he didn’t want coffee? What if he didn’t—

Nick mentally smacked himself. He needed to turn his brain off.

But he couldn’t shake the uncertainty, so he stepped through the sliding door onto Adam’s back patio. The air was just this side of too cool, but Nick didn’t mind the bite against his skin.

The rear of Adam’s apartment building faced a drainage pond surrounded by a split rail fence, backed by a row of pine trees. A fine mist clung to the grass, hanging over the pond and offering an ethereal quality to the morning. A road ran along the other side of those trees, but it must have been too early for much traffic.

Nick dropped onto the edge of the concrete porch, putting his feet in the grass. Dew grabbed his feet immediately. He inhaled, letting the air draw threads of power to make the fog drift and sway.