Page 30 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“Spoken like a true criminal behaviour expert.” Aaron winked. “And thank you for alluding to wrecking my arse being worthy enough for a criminal conviction.”

Kenny waited a moment. “You need to report it. You can give a urine sample.Getthem that criminal record.”

“There were at least thirty people at that party. Maybe more. You know as well as I do, the chances of finding out who did it and having evidence to prosecute are slim to none. Fuck, Kenny, the bloke who did it to me before, whoactuallyraped me, is still walking free. And you want to know why? Because I’m an unreliable witness. Even though he battered me so bad, I bled for days and wouldn’t let another man near me for…a fucking long time. But I was the tease. I brought it on myself. I lied about my age. I told him who I was. All valid reasons for some bastard to ruin me.”

Kenny lurched away from the counter, rounding the breakfast bar, and before Aaron could fully process what he was doing, Kenny placed a firm hand on his shoulder, spinning him on the stool to face him. For a split second, Aaronthought Kenny might launch into a lecture or demand they go to the police. Maybe even drag him down to Ryston station, make him report everything, endure the poking, prodding, and invasive tests. Relive every hazy, humiliating detail.

But Kenny didn’t say a word.

Instead, he stepped between Aaron’s legs, closing the distance and wrapping his arms around him, pressing him close, stroking his back up and down in slow, grounding motions. Then, roaming his hands up Aaron’s spine, over his neck, and into his hair, Kenny tangled his fingers into the strands with an unspoken tenderness that had Aaron unravelling completely.

The tension Aaron had been holding onto, his anger, fear, exhaustion, melted like the butter in his crispy bacon sandwich. Under Kenny’s touch, soft and warm and steady, it was too much, too good, and Aaron let himself lean in, fists clutching Kenny’s soft dressing gown as if it was a lifeline. He rested his head on Kenny’s chest, inhaling the faint mix of everything that was Kenny. His scent. The solid feel of him. It was more than comfort.

It washome.

“I’m all right,” Aaron lied through sheer bloody will to hold on to some self-respect. “Got me my touch me and die vibe. Sorta worked for a while.”

Kenny released him, then grabbed his face, dipping down to ghost his forehead to Aaron’s. “It is a marvel how you manage to function.”

“Who says this is functioning?”

Kenny closed his eyes, just existing next to him for a while, then he finally let go and stepped away. “I’ll clear up. If you want a shower. A bath. Anything. It’s yours. I have some work to do, but we can put the TV on and…chill. As long as you need. Or if you want to go back to your room—”

“No.” Aaron rushed out. “No, I want to stay here.” Heinhaled sharply at the vulnerability seeping through his words. “With you.”

Kenny looked at him oddly, but eventually nodded, then edged back round the counter to clear away the breakfast things.

“By the way,” Aaron said to his back. “I have no recollection of how you got me here. So if I said anything…”

Kenny’s shoulders tensed as he wiped down the surfaces. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Good.”Thank God for that.

Because he knew from the last time that when under the influence, his mouth ran away with him. It was why he’d told that other bloke who he was. And Aaron couldn’t shake a niggling feeling of how he might have said something far worse to give Kenny that strange, unnerving look right then.

chapter eight

Stay With Me

Kenny spent Saturday tending to Aaron’s every need.

He couldn’t help it. Everything that had happened, everything Aaron had told him,confidedin him, had Kenny surrendering to his compulsion to care for him. Would he be doing this for any of his other students if the same had happened to them? No. Of course not. He wouldn’t have run them a bath, adding scented oils to soothe and calm, and whilst they bathed, washed their underwear, and ironed their clothes, laying out other things he could choose to wear if they wanted to be more comfortable than in the tight ripped jeans and fitted shirt they’d worn to party in. He wouldn’t have ordered them dinner. Wouldn’t have sat on the sofa with them digging into takeaway Thai food, allowing them to rest their head on his shoulder while scanning through mindless TV, watching them slowly drift off while Kenny dared not move, dared not disrupt the fragile peace.

But this was Aaron.

Aaron was different.

And Kenny did all of thatandlet him sleep in his bed. No kicking him to the spare room this time. Those walls, actual and metaphorical, never really worked to keep him at bay, anyway.And now Kennywantedhim next to him.Neededhim there. Wanted him to stay with him, curled up beside him, nothing but underwear now their only barrier.

It was too intimate.

Too dangerous.

Tooaddictive.

But he justified it as temporary. Necessary for Aaron’s recovery. Telling himself that come Sunday, when Aaron was better, he’d take him back to his room and rebuild the boundaries he kept recklessly tearing down. Not for any professional reasons—those lines had long since blurred, if they had ever been there at all. But to protect his own heart.

Though Sunday came, and those boundaries dissolved further with every passing hour.

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