He had to clear his throat. “I’m surprised you provoked those guys on the beach.”

Adam shrugged. “I’m not going to live in fear because of who I am. If that idiot who hit me thought he could scare me straight, it didn’t work.”

The words made Nick’s throat swell. He had to look back at his mug. It hammered home his exact position. Being an Elemental, struggling to find his place among his brothers, hiding who he was with Quinn and every other girl. Funny how the first place he’d found some shred of peace was in a stranger’s apartment, drinking coffee while his girlfriend slept off a bender.

“You’re going to have one hell of a bruise,” Adam said.

“Yeah, well.”

Adam touched his face, and Nick froze. His fingers were warm, gentle, and Nick wanted to freeze time.

Then Adam said, “I’m an idiot. I should have gotten you some ice.”

And his fingers were gone, and Nick was sitting there practically breathless with wanting him back.

One touch, and he was going to pieces. He wanted to slam his forehead on the table.

Adam came back with ice wrapped in a towel, and Nick was so scattered that he almost said that water was Chris’s thing, and it would probably help more to just leave it uncovered.

But then the towel was against his bruised cheek, and Adam’s other hand was on his neck to stabilize it, and even though Nick knew he should be taking over the holding of the towel, he didn’t want to move for fear of disrupting this moment.

It was nothing short of a miracle that the heat off his face wasn’t instantly melting all the ice.

Adam’s thumb tapped against his neck. “Your heart is racing.”

No kidding.

Nick turned his head away and took the ice-filled towel. He set it on the table and had to look into his coffee mug again.

“Sorry,” said Adam. “I know there’s no point in pushing your buttons. You’re just adorable when you blush like that.” Then he was grinning. “Or like that.”

“Yeah, this is fantastic.” Even his voice was gravelly and uncertain.

Adam picked up the towel and held it out. “I’ll stop. You hold the—”

Nick shifted forward and kissed him.

He hadn’t given it a moment’s consideration—and if he had, he probably wouldn’t have done it at all. But now he couldn’t imagine stopping.

Kissing a girl was nothing like this. The basic mechanics, sure. But kissing Adam, there was a strength behind it, a raw masculinity despite his lyrical movement and gentle fingers. Nick was distantly aware of the ice hitting the floor.

Then Adam was kissing him back, drawing at Nick’s tongue with his own. He had a hand behind Nick’s neck, stroking the hair there, and Nick wished he could freeze this exact moment.

Oh, and the next moment, when Adam bit at Nick’s lip.

And the moment after that, when Nick stroked a hand up Adam’s neck, finding the first start of stubble across his jaw.

It was like every thought he’d ever blocked, every fantasy he’d ever refused to acknowledge, was blasting through his brain all at once with the force of a hurricane. Everything he knew was with a girl. Like reciting a learned lesson, something he could do because he had to.

This—this was new. And exciting. And primal and raw and right.

And insanely hot. He wished there weren’t so many damn clothes in the way.

They were going to be on the floor in a minute.

“Easy. Easy,” said Adam.

Nick felt like he was coming up for air.

Hell, he was practically panting.

He looked into Adam’s brown eyes, which were just now searching his.

“Well,” said Adam, a slight smile on his lips. “That was unexpected.”

Unexpected. Somehow the best and worst word to use. All of a sudden, the emotion of the evening caught up with him, and Nick felt the inexplicable urge to put his head on Adam’s shoulder and cry.

But then a girl cleared her throat from behind him.

“You can say that again,” said Quinn.

CHAPTER 6

Quinn wondered just how many times life was going to jerk her around today.

She’d have to storm past Nick and Adam to get to the front door, but a sliding glass door led out of the living room. An alcoholic buzz still made her thoughts swim, but she managed to get the lock thrown. She stumbled onto the tiny concrete patio. Cold air bit at her cheeks before Nick caught up to her.

“Stop,” he said. “Quinn, stop, please—”

She swung around and hit him. Rage-filled strikes that slammed into his chest and made her head ache and vision whirl.

She was vaguely aware she was crying, and she had no idea how many times she hit him before he caught her arms and forced her still.

Quinn looked up at him. Her body felt like she was still moving. The stars spun overhead. Her stomach rolled.

“Quinn,” he whispered.

“Nick,” she said back.

And then she threw up on his feet.

He deserved it, but that didn’t make it any less humiliating. She expected him to shove her away in disgust, or to drop her there in her own puke, because she could barely hold herself upright.

But he kicked off his shoes and picked her up.

“I want you to leave me alone,” she said, even as her head lolled onto his shoulder against her will.

“No offense,” he said as he carried her back into the apartment, “but I’m pretty sure you’re as screwed up about what you want as I am.”