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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,
“Oh. Oh, shit. I am—I’m going—I’m sorry—”
He slammed the door. Nick heard his footsteps on the stairs as he jogged down.
“Fuck,” said Nick. He sat up and pressed his hands into his eyes. He was shaking and he couldn’t stop. His emotions couldn’t handle the abrupt one-eighty. Part of him wanted to cry and another part wanted to punch something. “Fuck. ”
Adam’s hands touched his shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”
