Page 8 of Kiss Me Honey Honey (To Love a Psycho #2)

Chapter seven

Bad Dreams

Aaron woke, head pounding, mouth dry, stomach churning, skin slick with sweat, with absolutely no idea where he was.

He blinked into the dim light, the room unfamiliar. It wasn’t Taylor’s. And it wasn’t Taylor’s arm draped around him, holding him close, fingers loose but firm over his wrist. It wasn’t Taylor’s breath on his neck, warm and rhythmic, either. Or Taylor’s hair tickling his skin.

It was Kenny’s.

Aaron stilled. He didn’t need to look to confirm it. He knew Kenny’s scent. That faint mix of cedarwood and coffee had become ingrained in his memory. And he knew the way Kenny’s hand lay on his wrist, thumb resting lightly on the vein, as if he’d been monitoring his pulse but fallen asleep in the process. Because they’d been like this before. And Aaron closed his eyes, savouring the significance of Kenny’s arm around him. How their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to do anything that might shatter this fragile, stolen moment.

This was everything he’d ever craved. Everything he’ d never admit aloud.

If he could freeze time, he would.

He’d stay here, wrapped in Kenny’s arms, forever .

But his throat burned, body screaming out for water. Hierarchy of needs . Survival trumped his fleeting fantasy and with a soft sigh, he shifted, reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table. His movements made Kenny stir and his arm slipped away as Aaron sat up, grabbing the pint and gulping it too fast and too desperately. Water dribbled down the corners of his mouth, soaking the front of his T-shirt, also not his. Nor Taylor’s. It was too big, swamping him to make him feel like a child.

A cared for child.

“Hey, hey, easy.” Kenny, rough with sleep and worry, cut through the haze and he bolted up, reaching out to steady the glass before it tipped. “You drink it too fast and you’ll make yourself sick.”

Aaron lowered the glass, chest heaving. His gaze found Kenny’s in the dim light and he drank in his tousled hair, his face drawn with exhaustion, and those dark eyes, soft, yet searching, concern etching every line of his expression. Aaron swallowed hard, trying to decipher it. Was it genuine care for him? Or just Kenny being Kenny. The ever-responsible, ever-protective man who couldn’t stand the thought of anyone messing up his perfectly curated life, even if that meant stopping Aaron from drinking vital fluids as he might ruin his ultra soft, ultra comfy, ultra luxurious king sized bed wrapped in soft cotton sheets?

“I’m not gonna chuck up on your bed. Don’t panic.” Though his voice was hoarse, and his hands trembled, Aaron set the glass back on the table, trying to mask how not okay he was about all this.

Kenny grabbed his chin, pulling his face back to him. “I’m not concerned about the fucking bed.”

Aaron swallowed. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not.” Kenny brushed his knuckles along Aaron’s cheek, his touch lingering, too soft, too fleeting. “I don’t expect you to be.”

Aaron’s heart clenched. He hated this. Hated how much he wanted to lean into that touch, to feel more of Kenny’s warmth, his quiet strength. Hated how much he wanted to believe that, for just a moment, this wasn’t about duty or responsibility, but about him .

“I’ll be fine.” Aaron couldn’t meet Kenny’s eyes any longer. Couldn’t let him know how fucking scared he was. Of what had happened. What could have happened. But, mostly, of Kenny himself. How he felt about him. And how those feelings were making him believe things that weren’t there.

As if Kenny was looking at him the same way.

Kenny rested against the headboard, hand falling away, breaths laboured as if he was steadying a rampant pulse. “You scared the hell out of me.”

The words hit harder than they should have, and Aaron glanced at him, surprised by the rawness in his tone. “Sorry.” He wrung his hands together to stave off the shakes. “Didn’t mean to.”

Kenny shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. “You never do.”

The air between them stifled. Aaron wanted to say something, to break the tension, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him. Instead, he sank back into the pillows, turning on his side towards him. Still fully clothed, shirt and jeans, Kenny couldn’t have been comfortable sleeping in all that, yet he’d ensured Aaron was. So Aaron reached for him, gliding his hand up Kenny’s chest, grabbing his shirt in a balled fist, and dragged him to him. There was no reluctance, and Kenny slithered down on his side facing him, Aaron tracing the lines on Kenny’s face through the hazy light.

“These your clothes?” Aaron asked, nodding to the oversized T-shirt .

“Yeah. Doubted you could breathe in the stuff you were wearing.” Kenny swiped a lock of hair from Aaron’s face. “Your underwear is still on, though.”

Aaron snorted. “Thanks for preserving my virtue.”

Kenny looked at him gravely, resting his hand lazily on Aaron’s hip. Aaron could feel those fingers burning through his skin. If he wasn’t so sick right then, he’d want Kenny to glide that hand under his top, to push him down flat and climb on top of him. The fact he’d narrowly escaped someone else doing that without consent showed how messed up about Kenny he was.

“You need to report this,” Kenny said and Aaron fluttered his eyes closed, so Kenny removed that hand from his hip to cup his chin. “This is serious.”

“You know why I don’t want to go through that.”

“So they get away with it?”

“I’ll knife them tomorrow.”

“Aaron!” Kenny rolled onto his back, raking his hands through his matted hair, so Aaron wriggled up, resting his head on Kenny’s chest, idly tracing a shirt button with his finger. Eventually, Kenny gave in and wrapped his arm around him, stroking a hand along his bare arm. Aaron smiled in small triumph, although it didn’t feel like a victory. Not when Kenny had to ask, “How do you feel?”

“Physically?”

“This time, yes.”

“Like shit. As if I downed an entire bottle of JD, then chased it up with tequila and, for good measure, ate a fuck ton of rotten raw prawns.”

Kenny’s arm tightened around him. “And emotionally?”

“Like a dumb fucking prick.”

Kenny paused, tilting his head to catch his eye.

“Thanks for coming to me,” Aaron said, burrowing into Kenny’s chest and inhaling his scent to hide how damn exposed he felt. “I don’t remember calling you. I remember wanting to then talking myself out of it.”

“Why would you talk yourself out of it?”

“Because you don’t want my shit. Or deserve it.”

Kenny ran his fingers along Aaron’s spine in thought, then lowered down to press his lips to Aaron’s temple. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but the following words were just as intimate. “Not entirely true.”

“No?” Aaron peered up, eyes wide.

“I wish I didn’t want your shit, but as the current situation proves, I can’t help gravitating towards it.” He closed his eyes before adding softly, “ To you .”

Aaron smiled, chest easing just enough to let the corners of his lips lift. The gesture felt foreign, like something he hadn’t done in forever. Not forced. Nor fake. Not this time, and when Kenny’s eyes opened to catch him, Aaron watched as something flashed in his eyes. Surprise, maybe? Or something deeper. Heavier . Then Kenny inhaled, chest rising with a force that made Aaron’s stomach twist.

What’s he thinking?

The question burned in Aaron’s mind, but he didn’t dare ask. The tension between them was enough of a live wire, taut and thrumming. Was Kenny reacting to the smile itself? The fragile truce it seemed to offer? Or was he grappling with the same realisation Aaron was? That they were in too deep, tangled in something they couldn’t escape, even if they wanted to?

The way Kenny looked at him, chest tight, lips parted, made Aaron’s heart clench. It was too much and not enough all at once. He wanted to hold on to this moment, to cling to the connection they never spoke of, but both knew was there. Yet, beneath the tenderness, the magnitude of everything they’d done, everything they couldn’t undo, a threat was ready to pull them under. The crushing reality of what they were. Two people who shouldn’t be drawn together yet couldn’t seem to let go. And Aaron felt the impact of that like a physical force. He didn’t know whether to savour the moment or brace for the inevitable fallout.

Either way, he couldn’t look away.

“But I also wish your shit didn’t keep happening to you,” Kenny finally said through the haze.

“Ditto.” Aaron yawned, then settled back down on Kenny’s chest. “Do you want me to go?”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The possessiveness of that statement had Aaron tingling. Ever more so when Kenny unbuttoned his shirt, wriggling it off, ripping it from beneath him to discard on the floor, then shunted off his jeans to his boxers, once again hauling Aaron to him for him to lay his head on Kenny’s bare chest, listening to the dull thuds of his heart.

Where he fell into a contented sleep, devoid of bad dreams.

* * * *

The next time Aaron woke, the bed beside him was empty.

He stretched, muscles aching faintly as he pushed himself upright. Beside him, a freshly refilled glass of water and two paracetamol capsules waited on the nightstand. He grabbed the water, draining half of it in a few gulps before downing the pills. The sunlight filtering through the edges of the curtains bathed the room in a soft glow, and a glance at the clock told him it was already noon. Technically, the afternoon.

Aaron settled back against the headboard, the coolness of the sheets a stark contrast to the warmth Kenny had left behind. He couldn’t fault him for leaving. Kenny had a life to return to. Responsibilities to manage. And Aaron wasn’t exactly a Saturday priority. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but wish Kenny had stayed, just for a little longer. Had woken with him, only so he could drag him under these sheets and claim him as his rejuvenation.

Instead, he used the moment to learn more about Kenny through his master bedroom. He hadn’t been in here before and it exuded understated elegance, with all muted slate-grey walls, warm oak floors, and a king-sized bed dressed in a charcoal duvet with deep-green cushions. It was a testament to Kenny’s OCD. With black-and-white photos lining the walls in perfect symmetry, a sleek dresser holding a watch stand, a leather tray, and neatly arranged aftershaves. Balanced bedside tables added to the order—one with a lamp and a novel, the other with an unlit candle. A woven rug and blackout curtains framed tall windows, reinforcing a calm, controlled atmosphere.

Aaron loved it.

Far, far more than the spare room he’d occupied before.

When he felt as if he wouldn’t keel over, he stumbled out of the bed, checking for his clothes. The grey joggers and faded Nirvana tee were comfy, but way too big. Kenny was taller and slightly broader than him, so he had to roll the waistband to keep them up. With no sign of his own stuff, he had to make do and found his way out of the room to the landing, where he relieved himself in the bathroom, splashing cold water over his face. Then he glanced around the top floor. Two bedrooms, a bathroom and a home office. All vacant and just as organised. Except for the office, that looked like the place Kenny let chaos rule. He then crept down the stairs, Kenny’s voice drifting out from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I know…I’m sorry. I’ll stay here and get some rest…All right, yeah, thanks.”

Aaron waited until he was sure whatever call Kenny had been on had ended before he trundled down the rest of the stairs and made his way to the kitchen/diner at the back of the house. Kenny, back to him in a flannel dressing gown, shoved chopped up fruit into a smoothie maker. He switched on the whizzing, then turned, startled, as Aaron entered.

“Do you…uh, know where my clothes are?” Aaron raised his voice over the blender

Kenny switched it off, shunting the kitchen into silence. “They’re drying.”

Aaron winced. “Oh, shit. Did I throw up on them? Piss myself?” Fuck, now he knew why he shouldn’t have called Kenny. Why hadn’t he called Mel?

Because he wouldn’t be here now, wrapped in Kenny’s clothes, sitting at his breakfast bar, once again seeing what the man looked like first thing in the morning.

Which was annoyingly hot .

“No.” Kenny took out two mugs, adding tea bags, already knowing exactly what Aaron preferred to drink in the morning. “But I washed them, anyway. They were caked in mud.”

Aaron widened his eyes. “You washed my clothes?”

“Yes.”

“My jeans?”

“Yes.” Kenny made the tea.

“Did you check the pockets?”

“Yes, Aaron. I took out your phone. Which is there.” He pointed to a phone on the counter. “It’s out of battery. I can charge it, but your boyfriend has been ringing nonstop. I let him ring himself off.”

Aaron lifted from the stool to check the phone. “Ah. Right. Cheers.”

Kenny handed him a mug of tea. “Do you want me to charge it? I didn’t in case you wanted to…not be located.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Charge it later.”

Kenny nodded, then cupped his chin to look at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

Kenny stroked a thumb over his cheek, then let his face go to move over to the blender and poured out a concoction of thick red stuff into a glass and pushed it over to Aaron. “Drink that.”

“What is it?”

“A smoothie. With added protein and vitamins. It’ll replace what your body has used up in fighting off the invasion.”

“I reckon a bacon sarnie will do a better job of sorting me out.” Aaron sniffed the glass.

“I can do you one of those, but you drink that first.”

Aaron knocked back the smoothie. Kenny narrowed his eyes as he watched, and only once Aaron slammed the empty glass down, did he get out bacon from the fridge. Aaron sipped his tea as Kenny grilled the bacon, a warmth settling in his chest. He half expected Kenny to send him on his way. Or make him go report the incident. But he stayed here, taking care of him.

Once Kenny had cooked the bacon, he assembled the sandwich. “Sauce?”

“Ketchup.”

“Thought you didn’t like tomatoes.” Kenny fetched the ketchup from the fridge, squirting it on the bacon.

“Raw tomatoes, I don’t, no. Turns out when they’re already seeped of their juices, I can stomach it.”

Kenny handed him the sandwich and Aaron bit right in. The utterly delicious artisan bread matched with perfectly crispy bacon oozing with butter and sauce made him feel human again. Kenny sidled over to the other counter, folding his arms, once again watching him in that assessing stance that had Aaron feeling as if he was on display. And that Kenny could see right through him.

“Why did your boyfriend roofie you?”

Aaron coughed down his bite. Well, he should have expected that.

“To be fair, I don’t think it was Taylor who did it.” He took another bite. “Well, I know it wasn’t him because he wasn’t there. If he was in on it or not, I’m not sure. He could well have been.”

“So again,” Kenny studied him as if he were a case he was desperately trying not to admit he was emotionally invested in, “why would your boyfriend want someone to spike your drink?”

“You’re the criminal psychologist. Why does anyone roofie someone?” He shovelled in another bite of sandwich and looked Kenny dead in the eye. “Because they want to fuck them.”

That landed between them like a live wire. Aaron swallowed his mouthful, then gave a shrug as if the whole thing hadn’t scorched his insides.

Kenny’s frown deepened. He hesitated. S Aaron expected he would. “Are you and he not... sexually active?”

Aaron snorted. “You make it sound like a bloody health questionnaire.” He cracked his neck from side to side ready to have the awkward conversation. “We do stuff , yeah. Do you want a full breakdown of what?”

Kenny held up a hand. “You can spare me the details.”

Aaron chuckled. “So, yeah, we’re sexually active . But he’s been pestering to top me for months. Sorta thinks he’s entitled, y’know?”

A pause. Kenny’s gaze was analytical, but soft, considering. And very clearly calculating how far he could go, what was appropriate to ask, and what he had no business wanting to know.

Aaron watched him in silence, letting it hang.

He could say it. Spell it out. Give Kenny the clarity he was clearly dying for but too professional—or too afraid—to ask. He could just tell him, yeah, I’m a bottom . This wasn’t some power play with Taylor. It wasn’t about wanting control. It was about trust. Safety. About giving up something that had once been taken without permission.

But he didn’t say that.

He liked watching Kenny squirm. Seeing that criminal psych brain glitch between curiosity and caution, professionalism and something way more personal. But the question was there. Right on the tip of his tongue, tangled with restraint and hunger.

So Aaron leaned back in his chair, and waited.

Because if Kenny wanted to know what he was like in bed, he could either guess…or find out.

“So, yeah,” Aaron said, after the silence got all too much, “either Taylor got tired of waiting for me to cave and asked his housemates to help dull the edges. Or they did it for themselves. Either to do him a favour or so they could brag how they got my arse first.”

He didn’t flinch when he said it. But it cracked down the middle anyway. The weight of it. The accusation. The truth. And he watched Kenny take it in. Not just the words, but everything buried beneath them. The way Aaron said it without blinking. As if it wasn’t new. Wasn’t the first time someone had treated him like a conquest rather than a person.

Because it wasn’t.

And Aaron could almost see the thoughts and questions swirling around in Kenny’s head like some matrix. He had many. Aaron wasn’t sure he wanted to answer them.

At least he started with an easy one. “How did you know you’d been roofied?”

“Cause I know myself. Know my limits. Rarely drink to excess because when I do, shit happens.” He held out his arms. “Case in point.”

Kenny waited, expecting more.

Of course, he knows there’s more.

“It’s happened before.” Aaron set the other half of the sandwich down on the plate as if it was suddenly too heavy to hold. Like the memory was. “Ironically, the reason I don’t give my arse over easily.”

“Jesus, Aaron.” Kenny scraped a hand over his face. “When?”

“When I was sixteen. Actually, fifteen. Bloke thought I was sixteen. No excuse for fucking me while I was unconscious though. Nor for not being gentle about it.” Aaron chewed on his lip. “Thought you already knew that?”

“How would I know that?”

“I talked about it in therapy. With Dr Riley.”

Kenny rubbed his forehead. “I don’t get notes on those sessions.”

“No?”

“ No !”

“Oh. Thought you did.” Aaron ate the other half of his sandwich.

“I get diagnoses . Suggestions on what we can do to support you.”

“Oh.” Aaron swallowed the last of the sandwich. “Probably a couple of sessions that were a waste of time then.”

“Which ones?”

“Never you mind. You had your chance.” Aaron wiped his hands down his trousers. “Honestly, though, didn’t think Taylor and his wet lettuce crew had the guts to spike me.”

“Everyone has it in them for the right motivation.”

“Spoken like a true criminal behaviour expert.” Aaron winked. “And thank you for alluding to wrecking my arse being worthy enough for a criminal conviction.”

Kenny waited a moment. “You need to report it. You can give a urine sample. Get them that criminal record.”

“There were at least thirty people at that party. Maybe more. You know as well as I do, the chances of finding out who did it and having evidence to prosecute are slim to none. Fuck, Kenny, the bloke who did it to me before, who actually raped me, is still walking free. And you want to know why? Because I’m an unreliable witness. Even though he battered me so bad, I bled for days and wouldn’t let another man near me for…a fucking long time. But I was the tease. I brought it on myself. I lied about my age. I told him who I was. All valid reasons for some bastard to ruin me.”

Kenny lurched away from the counter, rounding the breakfast bar, and before Aaron could fully process what he was doing, Kenny placed a firm hand on his shoulder, spinning him on the stool to face him. For a split second, Aaron thought Kenny might launch into a lecture or demand they go to the police. Maybe even drag him down to Ryston station, make him report everything, endure the poking, prodding, and invasive tests. Relive every hazy, humiliating detail.

But Kenny didn’t say a word.

Instead, he stepped between Aaron’s legs, closing the distance and wrapping his arms around him, pressing him close, stroking his back up and down in slow, grounding motions. Then, roaming his hands up Aaron’s spine, over his neck, and into his hair, Kenny tangled his fingers into the strands with an unspoken tenderness that had Aaron unravelling completely.

The tension Aaron had been holding onto, his anger, fear, exhaustion, melted like the butter in his crispy bacon sandwich. Under Kenny’s touch, soft and warm and steady, it was too much, too good, and Aaron let himself lean in, fists clutching Kenny’s soft dressing gown as if it was a lifeline. He rested his head on Kenny’s chest, inhaling the faint mix of everything that was Kenny. His scent. The solid feel of him. It was more than comfort.

It was home .

“I’m all right,” Aaron lied through sheer bloody will to hold on to some self-respect. “Got me my touch me and die vibe. Sorta worked for a while.”

Kenny released him, then grabbed his face, dipping down to ghost his forehead to Aaron’s. “It is a marvel how you manage to function.”

“Who says this is functioning?”

Kenny closed his eyes, just existing next to him for a while, then he finally let go and stepped away. “I’ll clear up. If you want a shower. A bath. Anything. It’s yours. I have some work to do, but we can put the TV on and…chill. As long as you need. Or if you want to go back to your room—”

“No.” Aaron rushed out. “No, I want to stay here.” He inhaled sharply at the vulnerability seeping through his words. “With you.”

Kenny looked at him oddly, but eventually nodded, then edged back round the counter to clear away the breakfast things.

“By the way,” Aaron said to his back. “I have no recollection of how you got me here. So if I said anything…”

Kenny’s shoulders tensed as he wiped down the surfaces. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Good.” Thank God for that.

Because he knew from the last time that when under the influence, his mouth ran away with him. It was why he’d told that other bloke who he was. And Aaron couldn’t shake a niggling feeling of how he might have said something far worse to give Kenny that strange, unnerving look right then.