Page 90 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

Aaron smiled, but it was a fragile thing, weighed down by the darkness swirling in his immature heart. His chest ached as though he was splitting open and he pressed closer to Kenny, threading his fingers through his beard, holding his face as though he might slip away.

Then, ghosting his lips to Kenny’s, he let his heart bleed out. “You can take everything you need from me, lover.” He kissed him, languid but greedy. “Use me. Ruin me. I’ll be whatever you want. Whenever you need. Just never stop wantingme.”

Kenny squeezed his arms around him, sliding his nose down the length of Aaron’s and when he spoke, it was barely a whisper, as if he hadn’t meant to say what he did out loud but Aaron caught every, charged word.

“It’s not me I’m worried about in all this.”

chapter twenty-one

Don’t Tell

Kenny had a mountain of work to catch up on.

It seemed he always did these days. His responsibilities as Associate Professor of Psychology at the University of Ryston were demanding on their own, but he’d been neglecting them lately, distracted by events far more personal. Not to mention dangerous. Bordering on career suicide.

His job had always been a careful juggling act. Academic leadership, research, and teaching all vying for his attention. On paper, his tasks sounded structured. Delivering lectures and seminars on topics such as criminal psychology and behavioural analysis, mentoring students, and supervising PhD candidates like Vinnie, whose work often intertwined with Kenny’s expertise in trauma and deviant behaviour. But the reality of his role was far messier.

Administrative responsibilities consumed him. Faculty meetings, curriculum planning, and spearheading departmental initiatives to keep the program innovative and competitive. He was also a senior staff member, which meant mentoring junior lecturers and conducting appraisals, ensuring the department functioned smoothly. Endless emails filled his inbox, researchsymposia demanded his presence, and reviewing grant proposals for his studies left little room for anything else. And then there was his consultative work, which added yet another layer to his already relentless schedule.

As such, Wednesday had been a blur. Meeting after meeting, lecture after lecture, email after email. By four p.m., he hadn’t had time to blink, let alone think. Which might have been a good thing, considering all his thoughts seemed to lead back to Aaron. He’d left Aaron in bed that morning, giving strict instructions to keep his head down until his shift at the campus shop. Kenny and Jack were to meet him there for the surveillance operation they’d planned, hoping to glimpse the man they believed to be behind Carly Reynolds’ murder, if not all the others.

Kenny hurried across campus, cutting corners over damp grass, his polished dress shoes slipping as they picked up mud. The University of Ryston’s sprawling campus, with its winding paths snaking through immaculately trimmed lawns dotted with benches, was a normal site of a Wednesday afternoon, where classes disbanded for the sporting fixtures. Meaning students bustled across the grounds, chatter mingling with the crisp rustle of leaves skittering along the paths. Normally, Kenny found the environment grounding, even inspiring, but today it only reminded him how far he’d fallen behind. And how much was at stake for him.

He barely noticed the cold bite of the late November air or the deepening shadows of dusk when the glow of the Campus Shop windows came into view. His pulse quickened. Not from the exertion of running, but from the sight of Aaron already at the till, scanning items and handing change to the customers, a sensation he tried to attribute to the cold rather than what he really felt.

“Take everything you need from me, lover…”

He forced himself to slow when he saw Jack waiting by the shop entrance. Dressed in plain clothes—a jumper, jeans, and apuffer coat—he looked like any other bystander trying to shake off the chill.

“Kenny.” Jack greeted him with a curt nod.

“Jack.” Kenny tried to keep his eyes from drifting to Aaron through the window, but it was futile. Jack’s sharp eye followed his line of sight, and the corner of his mouth twitched as if to say,caught you.

“He got in just before four,” Jack said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Had a quick word with him around the corner. He’ll rake a hand through that platinum quiff if our man shows. He is not to rouse suspicion, say anything to him, or react in any way that might alert him to us, or indicate that he might know something. If he can get something with his fingerprints on, bonus.”

“Right.” Kenny nodded. “Where do you want us?”

Jack gestured to a bench on the lawn opposite the shop. “Like it was made for a surveillance op.”

Kenny snorted, though the humour barely reached him. He followed Jack to the bench, setting his bag down by his feet and buttoning his trench coat tighter to stave off the biting wind. He hadn’t thought to bring gloves or a scarf, and the cold gnawed at his fingers as he shoved them into his coat pockets.

“Did you find out anything about Peter?” Kenny asked after a moment.

Jack sighed, leaning back on the bench. “Looked him up. Changed his name after the Howell case. Hits a dead end. He disappeared as soon as he was placed in the system. If thisishim, he’s kept his nose clean until now.”

Kenny shook his head. “He hasn’t. He’s just made sure it hasn’t been tracked to him.”

They sat in silence, watching Aaron through the glass, waiting for something—or someone—to make their move.

“Hey, Dr Lyons!”

Kenny peered up as Mel halted her steps into the shop.

“Melanie.” Kenny nodded in greeting and watched her go inside.

“Never done surveillance before, have you, Kenny?”

Kenny turned to Jack, brow furrowed.

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