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His hips roll, grinding us together, and it’s just about all I can do not to come in my pants right there and then.

I’m making out with Cooper fucking Nash in a closet. Again.

What is this life?

“Oh, fuck, yes,” I groan as he buries his face into my neck, but then everything changes.

One moment we’re twisted together, taking exactly what we need from each other, and the next, he’s backing away and combing his fingers through his hair, dragging it back from his face.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” he tells me, his eyes locked on the floor between us.

“You really think that?” I taunt, because I feel very, very differently.

His fists clench at his sides, a pulse starting up in his throat.

“Yes. Yes, I fucking think that. It was a mistake. So was New Year’s Eve. All of this is a fucking mistake.”

His words cut through me, but I refuse to let him see that I’m affected.

“Bullshit,” I hiss. “You wanted it on New Year's Eve, and you fucking wanted it tonight. I felt it, Nash. Every fucking inch of it.”

My gaze locks on his crotch.

The thing about those pants that have been fitted perfectly to his body? They don’t have any extra fabric to cover how he’s really feeling.

Pride rushes through me as I stare at the impressive evidence of just how much he was into that. Into me.

Fucking hell, that’s a heady thought.

A man like him—powerful, elusive, hot as freaking hell—is into me.

I shake my head, barely able to believe it.

“This…this can’t happen. I can’t…I can’t fucking do this.”

His grip on his hair tightens, as does his expression. His turmoil over this is palpable, and I instantly feel bad for pushing him.

He dragged me in here to figure out if he could trust me, not so we could hook up again.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m not going to say anything, though. You can trust me.”

His eyes harden. “As if I haven’t heard that before,” he snaps, nothing but venom in his tone. “Fuck,” he barks, startling me. “Why the fuck do I keep doing this?”

I don’t respond, because I don’t think he’s actually asking me.

“Look, I’m not an idiot. I know how big a deal it would be for someone to find out about this.”

His eyes widen, and his lips press into a thin line.

“No,” he barks. “No, you fucking don’t. You have no idea what would happen if this were to get out. My life would be over. That’s how big a fucking deal it would be.

“It wouldn’t be like when you came out. I wouldn’t have anyone standing beside me, anyone supporting me and telling me they’re proud of me for letting the world see who I really am.”

“Sure you would.”

I quickly slam my lips shut when he shoots me a look that would send most guys running. It’s a warning that I should probably heed, but I’ve had a taste of him now, and it’s going to take more than his fear of embracing who he really is to forget about him.

“No one wants me here, Garrett.” My breath catches at his use of my name. I wasn’t aware he knew who I was. But maybe I’m not the only one who’s been doing some online stalking. “My life…It’s a fucking joke. No one wants the version of me they think they know. They’re going to want the real me even less.”