Page 8 of Killing Me Softly

But Aaron wasn’t sure what a normal relationship even looked like. Most of what he knew were bits and pieces from books, movies, and hushed conversations. His memories of his parents’ marriage certainly weren’t morsels to draw upon. Sobefore the trip out here, he’d called Jayden, his old mate from the care home, who’d held down a relationship for three years now despite the odds. Jayden had laughed, half in disbelief, when Aaron asked what people in love actuallydid.

And that was the crux of it.

What he had with Kenny—the sneaking around, the secret touches and the late-night visits where he’d sneak into Kenny’s house just to see the startled, hungry look in his eyes—it didn’t feelnormal. It felt as if he’d stolen it. And stolen things were easier to lose, because no one valued them.

He didn’t want wanted to lose this.Kenny.

So he let the music pulse through him, let it guide him, swaying and shimmying in time with the beat and danced around Kenny as if he were the pole he’d been wrapping himself around for shits and giggles back at uni. And as he spun, he caught Kenny watching him with half-lidded eyes, dark and dangerous. But they weren’t entirely on him. He kept one eye on the Gym Queen whose hunger was palpable.

Aaron felt that electric charge.

Part thrill. Part unspokenwarning.

Then Kenny slid his hand up the back of Aaron’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair to twist him around, and yanked him back with such possessive force, it robbed Aaron of air. Especially when his next kiss wasn’t so soft. It was fierce. Commanding. A raw declaration burning away any room for ambiguity.

You’re mine.

“All right,” Aaron panted as he dipped away. “Let’s go.”

Kenny grabbed Aaron’s hand, lacing his fingers tight with his, casting one final smug glance over his shoulder at the man still watching them, stunned and envious. He then led Aaron through the crowd, weaving past bodies until the pulsing music fell behind them like a fading heartbeat.

The night air met them at street level, the city alive with laughter and passing conversations in Spanish and Catalan. Aaron took a step left, but Kenny’s arm forced him right.

“Uh…hotel’s this way, doc.” Aaron pointed up ahead. He knew the way back, having been holed up there for two days whilst Kenny gallivanted around the University of Barcelona. He’d only ventured out to get food from the all-inclusive buffet or for a brief walk around, wanting to take in the sights with Kenny. Plus, he’d walked here from the hotel an hour ago, when Kenny had texted him to say the conference was over.

Their little game. To give Kenny his usual fix of a pickup after a conference.

No matter that his pickup had been the bloke he’d been shagging for nine months.

Kenny tightened his grip on Aaron’s hand and tugged him in the opposite direction. “We’re not going to the hotel.”

“We aren’t?” Aaron stumbled to follow beside him.

“No.”

“You know our outside endeavours haven’t really worked in our favour.”

Kenny threw him a look. Aaron chuckled, remembering the time Aaron had attempted to give him head whilst driving to work. Aaron had choked on Kenny’s cock when Kenny had skirted up a curb. After that, Kenny had put a stop to him doing really stupid things.

The next day had been a small shower incident.

Aaron had selective hearing. And, like he said, could be really fucking defiant.

Kenny glanced back at him with a small, knowing smile that was frustratingly cryptic. So Aaron let him have his fun and walked hand in hand along the narrow streets, past clusters of people gathered outside tapas bars, the air rich with the scent of garlic and fried calamari. Somewhere nearby, aguitarist strummed a soft, melancholic tune, drifting through the alleyways like smoke.

Aaron took in everything. The wrought-iron balconies bloomed with potted geraniums and trailing vines, leaves dancing in the hush of the warm night breeze. Cafe lights spilling onto cobblestone streets. He’d never been on holidays before. Never even owned a passport until Kenny suggested he come on this trip. Thanks to Jervine pulling those strings, his application for anAaron Jonespassport had been fast tracked. And now, here he was. Walking through a city that felt like a living canvas, every street a painting of colour and life.

Colours he’d never seen. A life he’d never had.

It was all new. Vibrant. Surreal. And Kenny’s hand linked with his made it even stranger. Like a dream he wasn’t sure how to fit into. His hand felt huge in Kenny’s grasp, as if everyone could see it. Their connection laid bare under streetlamps and starlight. Every passing glance felt magnified, eyes lingering too long. It took a while for his heart to stop its restless thrum, for him to settle, but Kenny never let go, and, bit by bit, the awkwardness melted away.

He peeked at Kenny. The calm steadiness in his stride, the small, content smile at the edge of his lips making Aaron let out a lingering breath. He had something up his sleeve. Something he was pure giddy about. And Aaron’s heart yearned for whatever it was. He wouldn’t say that, though. Kenny knew too much about his feelings without Aaron having uttered a word. So he kept his mouth shut as Kenny finally stopped in front of an old stone building, its façade weathered but elegant, with tall arched windows framed by intricate wrought iron where soft music floated from inside. Rich, live, and unmistakablyromantic.

Kenny pushed open the door.

The room was like something out of a dream. Grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its crystals shimmeringwith soft light, hardwood floors gleaming, worn smooth by decades of dancing feet. And a crooner stood by a piano, her velvet voice weaving through the room as she sang an old ballad. Aaron knew what song it was. So would Kenny, and Aaron’s mouth fell open.

“What is this?” he asked as couples swayed beneath the chandelier, dancing together in the ballroom.

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