Beelzebub's throat constricted and his tongue curled back on itself, the first stabs of fear freezing his muscles.

"Yes," he said, unable to keep the answer from bubbling up from that shameful place deep inside. His lips parted, unbelieving, and he could think of little other than how close Adam was, and how none of this could be real. He had to be imagining it. This didn't happen to him. These things never happened to him.

And the thought that Adam could shove him up against the wall and kiss him, take him like a swooning maiden in some trashy romance novella, a dime store purchase, sent the blood rushing to the vicinity of his groin.