Page 8 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

Aaron settled back in the seat. “How was your holiday?”

“It wasn’t a holiday. It was a conference.”

“In Greece. By the beach. Where they had a heatwave.”

“And I spent much of itinsidethe University of Crete. So in that respect, it was shit.”

Aaron snorted. “Got a nice tan, though.”

Kenny drifted over Aaron’s features, recommitting each detail to memory and checking if the dreams he’d had of him while lounging beachside or locked in a hotel room had been right. They had. He was still infuriatingly stunning. “And you changed your hair.”

“Back to natural.”

“I like it.”

Aaron dropped his head back, heavy-lidded gaze drawing Kenny in until his restraint felt like a thin thread, fraying and snapping. “Didn’t do it for you.”

Kenny ran out of things to say. Because there wasn’t anything he could say to make this any easier. For either of them.Theycouldn’t happen. For more reasons than being professor and student. Their shared history was muddy and devastating. They would rip each other apart. Yet somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to sever their connection completely.

Aaron reached for Kenny’s hand, interlocking their fingers. Then, after a moment of stillness, he lifted their combined hands to plant a delicate kiss to the back of Kenny’s, pinching the fine hairs between his lips and Kenny could have wept.

More so when Aaron said, “I can’t do this, doc. It’s too hard.”

Kenny dipped over the middle of the car to drag his free hand through Aaron’s hair, down to the back of his neck, and drew him close enough that he could taste the vape flavouring on Aaron’s breath.Peach. “I know.”

A silence settled over the car, neither rushing to fill it.

Then, stark and fragile, Aaron said, “Kiss me.”

God, Kenny wanted to. He’d never wanted to kiss anyone more in his entire life. But how could he? How could he open all that up again when they’d worked so hard to bury it? When he knew his career would be in jeopardy. And how Aaron would consume him completely, take his fill, before eventually tiring of him and leave. There was more than age and authority against them.

So he choked. “I can’t, baby.” The endearment slipped out, and he dug his fingers into Aaron’s neck to prove how desperately he wanted to do what he plead and how cruel it was he couldn’t. Because the moment he did, Aaron would destroy him. “You know I can’t.”

Aaron fluttered his eyes closed. Then, with one sharp inhale, Aaron pulled away from him, opening the car door, pausing only to glance back with a faint, broken smile. “I’ll get the bus back.”

Aaron got out, the door slamming shut, leaving Kenny with only the quiet hum of the engine to temper his thudding heart. He gripped the wheel, every muscle in his body straining as he watched Aaron disappear into the building.

Thisseparation felt like a wound, more painful than anything he’d experienced before. Fiercer than when Jack had left himwithout a word. And more so than leaving on a plane by himself to get over it all.

Yeah. He was fucked.

chapter three

The More YouIgnore Me, The Closer I Get

“How was your birthday?” Mel sidled up to Aaron at the back of the lecture hall the following Monday, dumping her fresh new laptop on the desk in front, ready to take notes on the core module International Perspectives on Crime.

Guess who was delivering the lecture?

Dr Kenneth Lyons.

“Was all right.” Aaron kept his focus on his blank piece of paper, tapping the pen in his hand, and not on how his heart thudded at the expectation of Kenny walking through that door, back in professor mode, with their quasi relationship now done and dusted.

The lecture hall buzzed with that first day back energy. Aaron could already feel the itch of anticipation beneath his skin. Kenny’s first lecture of the semester had more of a draw than any other, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of Kenny himself or the pull of some twisted satisfaction in watching Kenny have to ignore him in front of everyone else. Either way, he was there, wedged between Mel and another second year, who looked so eager she was almost vibrating.

Mel nudged him with her shoulder. “Did Taylor take you somewhereglamorousfor your twentieth?”

Dressed in a ripped, oversized black sweater with strategically placed holes revealing glimpses of the intricate tattoos winding along her collarbone and down her forearm, Mel was becoming more the goth than she’d been in her first year at Ryston University. With a black leather skirt, fishnet tights running down to her scuffed combats, silver chains dangling from her neck, layered over each other, some adorned with tiny charms, she had more confidence, especially with the inky black hair dye with subtle hints of purple styled into loose waves. That’s what happened at uni. People became themselves.

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