Page 72 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“Okay.” Kenny rose his hands, his tone measured, though his posture hinted at his unease. “Okay, I get it. I’ll make the statement. I’ll stay off the case. But you know where I am if you need any…off-the-record advice.”

Jack exhaled sharply, tension radiating off him. He gave Kenny a stiff nod, gaze lingering too long on Aaron as if searching for something—an answer, a weakness—before turning and heading for the door. The slam reverberated through the house, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Kenny closed his eyes, head tilting back as if the moment had finally crushed him. The silence wasn’t peace. It screamed of unresolved questions and unrelenting pressure. Aaron stayedwhere he was, watching, unsure. Did Kenny want him gone? Out of his house? Out of hislife? Maybe he was tired of Aaron dragging complications into his world, disrupting him at every turn.

Or maybe he needed something else.

Aaron decided it didn’t matter what Kenny needed. Because Aaron was selfish. Always had been. So he crossed the room, stepping in front of him, and without waiting for an invitation, wrapped his arms around Kenny’s neck.

Kenny opened his eyes, startled, body rigid at first. But then, slowly, he placed his hands on Aaron’s waist, grip tentative, almost reluctant.

“Kiss me,” Aaron said, lighter this time. Less demanding, more hopeful. Gut-wrenchingly hopeful. Because if Kenny refused now, Aaron didn’t know what it would do to him.

Kenny stared at him for a heartbeat too long. Then he pulled Aaron closer and kissed him. Languid.Deep. As if it were both a comfort and a surrender. As they broke apart, Kenny swiped his forehead on Aaron’s, his breaths shaky, eyes weary.

“Feeling a little paranoid,” Aaron said.

“Yeah.” Kenny’s lips quirked into a ghost of a smile. “Me too.”

“Always hated Tuesdays.” Aaron clutched Kenny, refusing to let the morning, lethim, slip away into darkness when it had started so bright and beautiful.

Chapter eighteen

I Think I’m Paranoid

What Aaronshouldhave done after Kenny dressed and left for Ryston Police HQ to give his statement was simple: go back to his room. Get his shit together. Head to his Tuesday lectures like a normal student. Do his reading. Lose himself in library silence. Grab coffee with Mel and talk about nothing that mattered. Just be a regular second-year trying to survive university life.

Instead, he stood across the road from Taylor’s house, hood up, shadowed by the dull grey sky, waiting. The police car parked outside confirmed what he already knew. Two officers were inside, undoubtedly informing Taylor about his boss’s brutal death and grilling him about the events leading up to it. Aaron stayed still, tension coiling through his body as the front door opened. The officers exited, a grim thank-you exchanged between them and someone unseen in the doorway.

Aaron hid his face until the officers climbed into their car and drove off. He watched the taillights fade into the distance before he strode across the road, anger a living thing beneath his skin, and pounded on the door with a clenched fist, each strike harder than the last.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Taylor.

Max blocked the entrance, expression dripping with disdain. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Need to see Taylor.”

“He’s not in.”

Aaron laughed, devoid of humour. “The filth here for you, then? Maybe questioning you about those party favours you like to hand out?”

Max didn’t move, arms crossing in a show of defiance. “Piss off.”

Aaron stepped closer, forcing Max to crane his neck to maintain the glare. “Move.”

“No.”

Aaron shifted, leaning in, their noses nearly touching. “When I’m not pumped full of whatever shit you’ve slipped into my drinks, I can be fucking terrifying. Want me to prove it?”

Without giving time for Max to respond, Aaron darted his hand down, grabbing Max’s groin in a sharp grip. The thin material of Max’s joggers and the absence of underwear made it all too easy for Aaron to feel him shrink. Not even a palm full. Poor bloke.

“Here’s the thing.” Aaron kept his tone dangerously low. “If you don’t move, I’ll pull. Hard. And when I’m done, you’ll be explaining to the hospital why your micro-dick’s in a jar instead of in your pants. Sound fun?”

Max’s eyes bulged, panic replacing the sneer as his arms faltered. There was a split second of hesitation, of internal struggle, before Max caved, stumbling back to give Aaron room. Aaron shoved past him, storming up the stairs two at a time. Taylor’s door was shut, but Aaron pushed it open without knocking, the slam rattling the small house.

Aaron halted at the sight inside.

Curled up on his bed in only a T-shirt and boxers as if just woken up, knees drawn to his chest, Taylor rocked back andforth like a child lost in a nightmare. His usually meticulously styled hair was a tangled mess, and his face was slick with tears, eyes swollen and streaming as if the world had finally broken him. Aaron wasn’t used to feeling empathy, especially not for a man who’d drugged him to fuck him, but the sight of Taylor right then sparked something uncomfortably close to it.

---