Adam pulled him back in the chair, using a little more force than was absolutely necessary. “Do your brothers have any idea that you’re sitting on a stack of unopened mail?”

“No.”

Adam didn’t say anything, but his hands were slower now, less suggestive.

“I can feel you judging me,” Nick said.

“Not judging.” He paused, thoughtful. “Did you work tonight?”

“Yeah. Nothing big—a little yard maintenance.” He’d ridden the mower while Chris and Michael did the detail work. He’d been glad to have an excuse not to talk. Chris watched him the whole time, but never said a word about the cafeteria outburst.

Nick should have kept his stupid mouth shut.

Damn Gabriel.

“Do you work every night?”

“No—not really. Sometimes. But Mike’s been busy this week, so he asked me to pick up a few extra nights.”

“You still have homework to do?”

“Not a lot.” A lie. But he could probably finish when he got home, if he didn’t fall over from exhaustion. If he was desperate, he could get up early and finish. And he had yet to crack the book on the physics test he’d missed. He still had Thursday night for that.

“You still worried about Quinn?”

WTF. Nick shoved Adam’s hands away and started to get up. “I thought the whole point was to be relaxing.”

Adam grabbed him and jerked him back into the chair again. He held him there and put his lips against Nick’s ear. “It is. But you’re all jacked up worrying about everyone else. I’m starting to wonder who worries about Nicholas.”

Nick flushed and relaxed back into his hands. “I like that,” he murmured.

“That no one worries about you?”

His cheeks warmed further. Someday he’d be able to reconnect his mouth to his brain. “No. The way you said my name.”

“So I have a thought,” Adam said, leaning closer to run his hands down the front of Nick’s chest. He did it slowly, letting each part of his hand stroke its way down. Fingertips, then palm. Shoulders, then muscle, then nipples.

Nick hissed in a breath. He wanted him to stop. He wanted him to keep going.

“What’s your thought?” he said quickly.

“Why don’t you let me worry for an hour.” Adam’s hands moved lower, finding the hem of Nick’s shirt and skirting below it. Warm fingers brushed bare stomach. Nick jumped and fought for breath.

Then those fingers slid inside the waistband of his jeans.

Nick froze and captured his hands. Then he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

Adam’s voice was low and soft, his face against Nick’s neck. “Talk to me.”

Nick clenched his eyes closed. His thoughts were spinning like a tornado, completely out of control. “I don’t know what you want.”

Low laughter against his neck. “I don’t think that’s true.”