“What’s wrong with my posture?”

“What’s wrong with your head is a better question. You probably have acceptance letters in there. Maybe even scholarship offers, if you’re fourth in your class.”

“I don’t want to talk about school.” His shoulders had tightened back up, and all of a sudden, he didn’t want to be a part of this conversation.

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 ni**les.

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.”

Nick thought his cheeks would never cool. That emotional tornado left him scattered and scrambling to pick up the pieces.

He couldn’t decide if he was angry or turned on or both. “Don’t tease me.”

The amusement left Adam’s voice. “No teasing. No judgment. You’re safe here, remember?”

“I remember.” Nick warred with his thoughts.

“Talk to me,” Adam whispered.

“I don’t want to do the wrong thing. I don’t want you to—”

Adam pulled a hand free and put it over Nick’s mouth. His other arm went across Nick’s chest, making it more of an em-brace. “No more worrying. What do you want? Does anyone ever ask you that? What do you want, Nick?”

No. No one ever asked him that. Nick put a hand over Adam’s, where it rested on his chest. He drew a shuddering breath and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”

Adam put a hand against his cheek and turned him, kissing him lightly, sweetly. No pressure, just a brush of lips before drawing back.

“Well,” said Adam, and Nick could hear the smile in his voice. “Maybe I could give you a few ideas.”

CHAPTER 13

Quinn giggled and looked up at the starry night sky, accented by bits of flying ash from the fire. “I didn’t realize you’d make a whole bonfire.”

Tyler lay next to her on a fleece beach blanket he’d fetched from the truck. “Well, you said you were cold.”

The fire stretched over six feet high, whipping in the breeze.

Tiny gas lamps glowed across the bay; this probably looked like a distress beacon. “Won’t someone see it?”

Tyler snorted. “You say that like I’d care.” He held out a paper bag. “You want the other pretzel?”

Quinn hugged her hands to her stomach. She was still hungry, but she should probably be chewing on a lettuce leaf. “Nah.”

“Come on. Don’t make me throw it out for the gulls.”

“If you insist.” She took the bag and tore off a stretch of pretzel. Butter and salt and heaven.