Page 42 of Kiln Me Softly

‘See? Told you he’d love it.’ Juniper watched Aiden dust off his hands, both delighted and slightly annoyed that he’d been right about Cerberus’s new toadstool home.

Putting it in his cage was the first thing they’d done upon arriving back in London, and Cerberus had wriggled straight through the ceramic arch to get comfortable inside.

His cage was spotless, food and water supply topped up generously. Clearly, Alfred Pet Sitter was a very good friend .

She perched on the edge of Aiden’s couch as an intense wave of gratitude washed over her.

Gratitude, and something she didn’t want to name, even if it was the strongest emotion she’d ever felt: a thrum she couldn’t tune out, reverberating deep in the very pit of her.

It was stronger when she looked at him, saw his lopsided smile, mussed hair, and unshaven jaw.

Stronger still when she saw the way his throat bobbed and his eyes faded, like he was holding back something that hurt.

He’d been quiet on the train home; she could only assume lunch with his dad hadn’t gone well. Not wanting to bring it up in front of their friends, she’d held his hand under the table instead, and then went back to helping Luc with their crossword book.

But now they were alone, and she didn’t know how else to be there for him than to simply ask what he needed.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘About what?’ He closed Cerberus’s cage and looked anywhere but at her – until she pinched the hem of his hoodie and dragged him closer.

‘About your dad. About what he did to make you sad.’

‘I’m not sad, Juni.’ He cupped her face as delicately as he might porcelain, clearing the errant wisps of hair from her face so he could see her better. ‘How could I be sad when I’ve finally got you alone?’

The obvious attempt at distraction almost worked, especially when he kissed her with none of his usual hunger. A kiss that said I don’t want anything but this, here, now.

She curled a leg around his waist, looping her arms around his neck.

She shouldn’t have been here, wasting precious time that might have been spent on her contest project, but god, she was exhausted, and the warm, spiced citrus scent of his living room suddenly felt like the safest place in the world.

She was running out of reasons to push him away, worried Tilly had been right: their differences meant nothing when they were together like this.

If he needed her, and she suspected he did, she would just have to stay.

‘You can talk to me, Aiden,’ she reminded him when he drew away. ‘Was he shitty to you? Do you want me to fight him?’

‘That, I would like to see.’ He laughed, but it soon ebbed.

‘I’m just coming to terms with the fact that nothing I do will make him love me.

I went along with everything he asked of me for the first nineteen years of my life.

It got me his approval, but not much more, and it made me miserable in the long run.

Now, I’m doing something that feels right, that feels true to me, and all he sees is all the ways I’ve failed. ’

She knew the feeling. Her own failures chased her around in everything she did, and they were currently nipping at her ankles.

Sometimes, a person just needed to be told they were doing a good job, especially from their parents.

She couldn’t imagine a father not being proud of someone like Aiden.

He poured more and more care into his art every day, and beyond that, he was a pillar for the people around him.

Someone she was learning to trust, even if she was reluctant about it.

‘Maybe he doesn’t deserve to see you succeed, then,’ she suggested gently. ‘You shouldn’t have to do anything to be loved by him. It’s kind of what parents are supposed to do, without conditions attached.’

He hummed in uncertain agreement, forehead resting against hers. ‘When did you get so wise?’

It was a good question. She’d never given herself the same grace she was offering him now, not when it came to her own problems. She tried to convince herself it was different for him: he dropped out of his art course because he was struggling, not because it was in his nature to fail the way it seemed to be in hers.

But then she thought of all the things she battled on a regular basis.

The exhausting whir of brain chatter, the paralysing inability to just get up and do things that needed to be done, the constant distractions where she could lose hours without realising it, the way everything she had to say and do felt urgent because otherwise she might forget about them altogether.

The intensity of her emotions, and the overwhelming sensory experiences of everyday life.

None of those were things she’d chosen. They were symptoms, and nobody had ever made room to just let them be there.

She’d fought them every step of the way and still lost.

The only person who had never held them against her was him. In fact, he seemed to like her for all her mess.

When she didn’t reply, he frowned and tapped her forehead. ‘Where have you gone?’

She shook her head. ‘I wish I knew.’

His hands lowered to her hips, sneaking under her jumper so that he could draw circles over skin. She sighed, eyes closing. Surrendering, just like he’d always wanted.

His lips found her jaw, her neck, and she leaned to grant him better access as her other leg wrapped around him.

She twisted her fingers through his hair the way she knew he liked, and got the reaction she’d hoped for when he keened softly.

It was like they’d never been apart. Her body remembered his after weeks away, and his hers.

‘Take me to bed, Aiden,’ she pleaded.

So he did, his strong arms lifting her off the couch as though she weighed nothing at all.

He walked down the hallway without ever tearing his gaze away, each step sending another jolt of anticipation through her.

It wasn’t like the other times they’d done this, when they’d fallen into each other without any control.

When their bodies had decided for them. This time, it was her deciding.

There was no rush, no desperation, only a quiet knowing that left her feeling safer than ever with him.

Like hers, his bedroom floor was covered in clothes and art books, though they’d been pushed aside to corners.

He laid her down on his sky-blue duvet, and she was quick to tear off his shirt.

Maybe she was slightly desperate, after all, but it was difficult not to be when the light hit his chest, casting shadows across the planes of his soft middle.

She’d never had time to appreciate it all before, but she did now, letting her finger drift from his sternum down to his belly button, where a strip of hair pointed to his already strained waistband.

‘It’s unfair, how beautiful you are,’ she admitted.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Beautiful? Is that what I am now?’

A nod. ‘‘Fraid so.’

‘Well, it’s a step up from intolerable, obnoxious arsehole.

’ He toyed with her jumper until she fought her way out of it, the two of them laughing when it left her hair mussed on top of her head.

He tugged the tie from it, letting it fall freely around her shoulders with something like awe parting his lips.

Dusky light kissed his high cheekbones, muddying his hazel eyes, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from him.

From the way it felt to be seen by him. Like she was the centre of his universe, the gravity that kept him grounded.

She’d never understand it; she’d done nothing to earn it, not really.

And yet he kissed her like she deserved every bit of it, starting with her lips then dipping down to the valley between her breasts.

He tugged at the lace of her bra with his teeth, then carried on to peel her jeans down.

She lifted her hips to let him, her walls clenching around nothing when his stubble scraped her inner thighs.

His kisses followed the line of her stretch marks, some white from puberty and some more recent and pink.

She’d never paid much attention to them before, but she propped herself up on her elbows and realised that they might have been beautiful to an artist like him.

Added texture, expressive brushstrokes, the same way he often did with his clay.

‘Do you have any idea what you do to me, Juni?’ he asked, hoarse voice vibrating against her skin. ‘I spend every hour of every day wishing I was yours.’

Her breath shook as she guided him back up with a finger under his chin, wondering if he truly meant it. Wondering if she felt the same. Knowing, deep down, she did.

‘You are.’ She unbuttoned his jeans and grazed the low jut of his stomach. ‘You are mine.’

He stepped out of his jeans and then his boxers, completely bare. Her tongue swiped over her bottom lip at the sight of his length, hard and ready for her. His hips and thighs were as beautiful as the rest of him, the former as soft as his stomach and darkened by hair.

Unable to wait any longer, she tugged him back onto the bed and straddled his waist again.

He unhooked her bra, fingers quicker and clumsier now, and she threw it somewhere behind her.

His mouth was on her immediately, tongue lapping at her nipples and breasts spilling over his kneading fingers.

It was better than anything they’d done before, skin clashing against skin, all of their past obstacles finally gone.

She ground her hips against him, her covered clit finding friction against his cock, and she wondered what would happen if she let go of all the things holding her back. If she fell and let him catch her.

‘There are condoms in my nightstand,’ he rasped.

‘I think we’re past needing them, don’t you?’ After all, he’d filled her once before and she’d taken her contraception this morning, one of the few things she’d managed to uphold a routine with after years of avoiding heavy periods.

He grinned and nipped at the bunched, pink skin around her nipple, eliciting a whimper from her.

‘I feel like I can’t get you close enough,’ he admitted, hands snaking to tug her closer by her arse cheeks. Her core hit his erection again, a taunt, a promise. ‘I can feel every bit of distance, and it fucking hurts, Juniper. I need you closer.’

She felt it, too, her skin screaming whenever he drew back. ‘Then get closer.’

She lifted to remove her underwear, running her hand over the length of his shaft to line him up before finally sinking onto him.

She took him with as much restraint as she could muster, trying to feel every inch of him until their bodies were joined completely.

His fingers flexed against her shoulder blades, breath hot and heavy on her collarbone.

She almost didn’t want to move, didn’t want to put that distance between them again, but her core searched desperately for release.

She started slow, resting her head against his as she sought the place where it felt best, but then he tilted her chin and begged, ‘Look at me. I want to see you. Never got to see you properly the first time.’

‘I’d argue that it was me who couldn’t see the first time.’ And as pleasurable as that blindfold had been, it paled in comparison to this. It was another sensation altogether to lock eyes, to see whispers of pleasure write themselves over his face between the hoarse rattle of his laugh.

Her breaths grew more laboured as she rolled her hips deeper, harder, him swallowing her gasps into his mouth before he kissed her again.

‘Tell me again,’ he said. ‘Tell me I’m yours.’

‘You’re mine. You’re mine, Aiden.’ And she was his, even if she couldn’t say it yet. Her skin grew slick with sweat as she rode towards her climax at an alarmingly fast pace.

‘I’m yours,’ he whispered, over and over, helping her where he could. ‘I’m yours.’

And then he was letting go of her hip to dip his hand between them, rolling his fingers over her clit until she was quivering. Her stomach swelled with heat as he ventured to the place where their bodies met and back again. Her ruts became unbridled, his cock hitting deeper with each one.

He must have been close, too, because he urged her onto her back without pulling out, still gripping her arse enough to bruise as he thrust into her. She tilted her hips against him, chasing those last few threads with searing fire in her belly as she watched his face contort with pleasure.

‘Come for me, sweetheart,’ he begged. ‘I need you to come before me.’

She whined out as a bliss she’d never known before ravaged her, and then he was yelling with her, the two of them closer than ever before as their bodies rose and fell in tandem.

He fucked her until her walls stopped shaking, until her thighs went slack with exhaustion and she could barely hold on, and then he collapsed against her, his forehead burning into her chest and his breaths fanning across her breasts.

‘Fuck, Juni,’ he muttered. ‘I…’

His tongue formed an L sound, and her mouth suddenly went dry. For a moment, she was sure he was going to say the word she was most afraid of.

But he never finished his sentence, rolling his weight off her to catch his breath.

Still, the sentiment echoed in the spaces between them, enough to terrify her.

Because she knew.

And she did, too.