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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—
