Page 59 of Every Hidden Truth

We lay on our sides, balancing on the couch as our legs tangled together. Ben traced my features with the pad of his index finger, and I was perfectly content for the first time in a long time.

I snorted. “Told you.”

“Don’t get cocky,” he chided.

I bit his finger when he tried to follow the shape of my lips. “You’re ruining my post-orgasm glow.”

“God forbid,” he mocked.

“Shush.”

To shut him up—and because I literally loved kissing him—I pressed my mouth to his, running my tongue along the seam. His lips parted, allowing me inside, and I kissed him thoroughly, fingers digging into the back of his neck.

We parted, and light passed over his face and the wall behind the couch. He sat up, wrapping an arm around my back to keep me from falling off the couch completely.

I looked over my shoulder. “What was that?”

“A car in your driveway,” he said.

I shrugged, settling back onto the couch. “Probably someone turning around. Come back and kiss me. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready for round two.”

Ben chuckled, still staring out the window. “So, it’s an SUV, and it’s parking in your garage.”

It took a second for the overwhelming horror to form into an actual thought, but when it did, it was like a bucket of ice water, dousing every good feeling in my body.

“Oh my God, that’s my dad!” I shrieked, flailing as I lost my balance and crashed onto the floor. “Oh fuck. Get dressed, Ben. Don’t let my dad see your nipples!”

Why that seemed important, I didn’t know. All that made sense was that if Dad saw Ben’s nipples, he’d somehow know I’d had my mouth on them.

We sprang into action, Ben nearly tripping over his own feet as he scrambled to standing. I tucked everything away and hopped in place to get my jeans back on my hips. Buttoning and zipping them, I searched the floor for my shirt.

“Silas, where’s my shirt?” Ben crawled across the carpet, but I ignored him, too busy with my own hunt. “Where’s my shirt?”

“I don’t know, just find it!”

I shoved my semen-stained undershirt under the couch and snagged my black button-up from the floor. With one arm in the shirt and one still bare, I heard the dreaded turn of a lock. Time slowed, like in a bad dream, and I watched the doorknob jiggle. Then it clicked. The door swung open.

Ben dropped out of sight behind the couch, and I made like a statue as my dad stepped through the doorway, fresh snow dusting his salty chestnut hair. I stared at him, eyes wide as his gaze flitted over my half-dressed body, sex-mussed hair, and mortified expression. His thick brows drew down in a puzzled frown.

“Hey, Dad.” I grimaced as Ben leapt up from behind the couch with a triumphant whoop, his shirt waving like a victory flag.

“Found it. It was behind the…” His voice trailed off as he noticed my dad, and his skin tinted puce. “Couch.”

“Your nipples,” I squeaked, and Ben shot me the most confused look as he slapped his hands over his chest, covering said nipples.

We stood in awkward silence as my dad’s focus ping-ponged between us. His expression of bewilderment bled swiftly into understanding then mortification. Paling, he schooled his features, clearing his throat noisily.

“Silas,” Dad said in greeting, grudgingly turning to a still-shirtless Ben to say, “Silas’s… friend?”

I might have whimpered.

Ben shot me an alarmed look, but I was rendered mute. There were no words in the English language that could make this better.

But, bless him, he tried.

With a quirky, what-the-hell grin, Ben shrugged and walked right up to my dad, extending his hand. “Mr. Brigs, hi. I’m Ben, Silas’s boyfriend.”

I may have whimpered a second time.

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