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.”