Page 21 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

How much have I had?

He shook his head, grabbing the glass and gulping down the water to steady himself. It didn’t work. The sensation was wrong—off—as though his body was moving without his brain keeping up.

He’d been like this once before. And the outcome hadn’t been pleasant.

Setting the glass down on the counter, he dragged his fingers through his hair to push it back into his usual styled quiff. The action was automatic, grounding. But the stars behind his eyes only flashed brighter, dancing in his periphery. Then the dizziness surged, like a wave crashing over him, and his legs buckled. Panic crept in around the edges of the haze and he willed for the stars in his vision to dissipate.

They didn’t.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

George came in. “You all right, mate?” He dumped an empty can into the filled up bin liner, then lowered to get in his line of sight. “You had too much?”

Aaronhadn’thad too much. Not nearlyenough. And he blinked, George’s features blurring.

“Shit, mate.” George tapped his shoulder. “You look peaky. Go lie down in Taylor’s room.” He angled his head, then sauntered back into the living room.

Aaron lurched away from the counter, every step shaky, the room tilting dangerously. He had no intention of staying in this house, no intention of collapsing here under the watchful eyes ofstrangers—or worse,Max. The thought alone propelled him toward the hallway, and he fumbled for the door handle, yanking it open with more force than necessary.

The cool night air hit him like a slap, sharp and bracing, but it did nothing to clear his head. Darkness had settled over the street, shadows deep and unforgiving under the faint glow of streetlights, and he staggered down the small yard, legs weak beneath him.

The world spun.

He turned right, stumbling toward the alley cutting between the streets, its narrow path secluded enough to shield him. His heart pounded, each beat echoing in his ears as he half-ran, feet dragging on uneven ground. He made it halfway up the alley before his legs buckled, and he slammed a hand on the cold, rough wall to keep from collapsing.

Nausea churned in his stomach and he pressed his forehead to the wall, the chill of the brick biting into his skin. His limbs were too heavy. Head swimming. Every inhale suffocating.

This can’t be normal.

He fumbled in his pocket, dragging out his phone, but his fingers were clumsy, too sluggish to obey as he swiped through his recent calls. Names scrolled past in a blur until he landed on the one that stood out like a beacon:Kenny.

Hovering his thumb over the screen, he hesitated.

How could he? How could he callKenny?

He couldn’t think. Then he couldn’t stand. And he fell, knees hitting the cold, unforgiving ground and his phone clattered onto the pavement.

Chapter six

Tonight You Belong To Me

Kenny sat on one side of Heather’s dining table where a mix of soft golden light from the overhead chandelier and the shimmer of candles were giving off a casual elegance, setting the ambiance for the most awkward dinner party he’d ever been at.

Her attempt at lamb kleftiko had been a success though, if everyone’s plate was to be believed. All gone. Jack and Fraser sat opposite, Fraser’s arm draped casually over Jack’s chair in that silent yet unmistakable possession, telling everyone in no uncertain terms that Jack was his. Despite the rings on both of their fingers, Fraser still needed to assert himself over Kenny. On the outside, people might wonder why. Fraser was huge. Muscles. A gym owner and fitness guru. All honed and mighty. Kenny was nothing in comparison. A lowly academic who did the occasional gym workout and run to keep in shape, but was still a forty-one-year-old who had his nose in textbooks most of his time.

But it was what went on inside that had Fraser desperate to assert himself. Kenny’s overarching knowledge of Jack threatened him. Kenny couldn’t do a thing about that. Couldn’t erasethe six years they’d been in and out of each other’s bed and Kenny in and out of Jack’s mind.

He’d have to get over it.

At the bottom end of the table sat Dominic, Kenny’s colleague from the university and Heather’s old schoolmate, who’d originally set Kenny up with her. His wife, Tasha, a beautician, sidled next to him. And he was next to Heather, who was sidling closer to him with every sip of wine.

It was all very cosy. All verynormal.

Kenny hadn’t ever felt more out of place.

Heather topped up the wine in each of their glasses. “I’m so glad that lamb came out okay.”

“It was delicious,” Fraser said. “Will have to get the recipe from you.”

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