Silent Is The Heart

CHAPTER 43

Easton

I’m a fucking mess. A complete and utter mess. I still don’t understand how he can so easily dismiss what I did, what Leonard did, or what Jason would have done to him. For the first time in my life, I think I actually want to seek therapy. I know you’re supposed to do that kind of thing for yourself, but I’d do it for Aaron. I’d do anything to make sure I’m a solid human being who won’t lose his shit and misconstrue things in the future.

My father killed someone I loved. Then he killed someone I despised because he was trying to show me he loved me. How the fuck is a person supposed to feel about that?

If I tell the police my money was returned, they’ll go looking for him. I know it’s the right thing to do, but it seems like a lousy way to repay someone for saving the man I’m over the moon for. Right now, I just revel in the ability to be able to breathe with ease again. I revel in hearing that Aaron wants to be my missing puzzle piece. A puzzle metaphor—he’s such a dork. God, I love him. He’s right, though. I know it’s the reason I never fit anywhere with anyone else. No one is a fit for me the way he is.

Un-burrowing my snotty face from the front of his sweater, I cup his face. “I love you,” I rasp. It’s not enough though. I don’t know if it’s possible to even convey how much I love him. I kiss his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth, his forehead. “I always have, and I always will. If I ever say I don’t, I’m lying.”

Smiling, he rubs his thumb over my jaw and whispers, “I know.”

He says it so matter-of-factly and with such confidence that a puff of laughter leaves my lips. More tears spill down my face. I must have done something right in my life if I found the one man who knows me better than I know myself.

Snaking my arms around him, I just hold him, grateful that he’s here. Grateful he’s all right. And grateful he exists. We stand there like that for a while. Whether he’s just humoring me or he needs it as much as I do, I don’t know.

When he finally draws back, I’ve stopped bawling my eyes out at least. The papers of Jason’s hideous plot are scattered all over the floor. The bag of money is open like we just robbed a bank. Aaron’s living room essentially looks like a damn crime scene. I bend down to retrieve the mess, but he stops me.

Taking the papers, he tosses them in the bag. “Just leave it,” he whispers, shaking his head.

Tugging my hand, he gives me this tender smile like nothing but us matters right now. When he starts toward his room, I go where I’m led. I’m so drained from the mind fuck that was the past few days that I'm grateful for the assistance.

Releasing my hand, he makes no great affair of undressing. He doesn’t even face me as he lets his shirt and pants fall to the floor. Bending down, he starts on my boots while I’m still working on getting my pants undone. Smiling up at me, he even waits for me to lift my feet so he can pull them off. Kicking my pants away, I’m about to reach for my socks when he pulls the comforter back and tugs my arm for me to crawl into bed.

My side no sooner hits the mattress, and he’s drawing the blanket over us and pulling me into his arms. I was starting to wonder if he was looking for intimacy, but the kiss he gives me is chaste and sweet. It’s like a healing seal over a wound. He places another on my forehead and then sighs, closing his eyes. I stare at his peaceful yet exhausted-looking face for a few moments. My eyes are growing heavy just from the comfort of his soft bed and from being warm in his arms. The sound of his breathing evens out into a slow stream.

He’s asleep. He just wanted to sleep next to me… to hold me.

I give up the fight and let my eyes slip closed. I suddenly understand the path to his serenity. We love each other. We know it, and that’s all that matters.

◆◆◆

I awake to moonlight spilling through the bedroom windows. Blinking, I squint at the stars over the woods outside, remembering the last time I was here. We had the curtains drawn tight for fear that Jason could be out there watching. Aaron must have opened them at some point. It’s an inspiring nod to his unflinching attitude in the face of everything. Defeat or be defeated.

Glancing down, I zone in on the soft stroking sensation over my ribs. Aaron’s gaze is fixed nowhere, a peaceful look on his face as his thumb traces little paths along my skin. Running my fingers through his hair, I cover his hand with my other one. We must have slept for hours on end.

“How long have you been awake?”

His shoulder rises, and he hums a sleepy sound. “A little while.”

“You could have gotten up.”

“I was happy where I was.” Leaning up, he dusts his lips over mine. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks, drawing back like he’s going to sit up.

I go with him, but turn and plant a hand on either side of his hips. Leaning in, I give him another kiss, deepening it on purpose until his head rests on his pillow.

“Yes,” I whisper in front of his mouth.

Looping his arms around my neck, he treats me to that beautiful smile of his. I’ll never get over his All-American, poster-child-for-handsomeness thing. Bending down, I trail kisses along the underside of his jaw. We’ve been in this bed dozens of times, but for some reason, everything feels new. Each touch. Each kiss.

It reminds me of the first night we were together and the way he garnished my body with a series of delicate caresses and touches of his lips. It seems fitting to return the gesture now. Moving lower, I work my mouth across his collarbone and around one dark nipple.

There’s this sense of freedom in the air and maybe even around my soul, like the burdens of the past are far behind me. I don’t exactly want the past to be gone—there were so many moments of it I’ll cherish. However, it feels as though it’s finally been sorted, a two-thousand-piece puzzle that’s last piece has finally been placed.

Trailing my cheekbone along his side, I breathe him in and trace the cords in his arm with my fingertips. His hands stroke my hair lazily, and his stomach rises and falls on a contented sigh.

“I guess you had a good dream,” he teases.

Smiling against his happy trail, I press a kiss below his belly button and slide my hand up the leg of his shorts. “No, but I woke up next to one.”

He barks out a laugh, shaking against my jaw. “Good one.”

Reaching into the other leg of his boxer briefs, I slide my hands underneath him, grip the elastic, and slide them down. When I glance up, he lifts his hips and has that dreamy look on his face that I love. It always makes me feel like I can do no wrong, which is far from the truth. But, in Aaron’s eyes, I don’t think I can. It’s an unexplained mystery for the ages.

Making up for a lifetime of neglecting foreplay, I paint his body with my palms and brush my lips across the delicate skin at his hips. I work my way down to his knees, which has him producing a giggle when I skirt to the back of his knee. Ticklish spot—noted.

His hands grip my shoulders and he tugs at me to move back up, but I resist. I’m far from finished. Kneading the muscles in his legs, I do my best to give him some kind of massage as I place little kisses and brushes of my tongue on the insides of his thighs.

“Am I going to get to participate in this?” he asks, his voice sounding strained.

I have to look around the obstruction standing in my view when I peer up at him. “It looks like you already are.”

Snorting, he reaches down and gives himself a stroke. The sight of him touching himself has my balls drawing up tighter.

“It didn’t require much effort on my part,” he snarks and then bites his lower lip when he sees the tent in my boxers.

“Good,” I concur, crawling higher and sliding my underwear down. “There’s something sexy about a lazy, horny man.”

His laughter dies out when I slide my lips over the head of his cock until they kiss his hand. Grunting, he releases his grip to cup the underside of my jaw. His fingers slide down my neck, stroking it as I take him deeper.

I swear I appreciate everything from before this mess happened, but everything feels different now. I thought I was more in tune with him than anyone I’d ever been with before, but now…now it’s like discovering a new drug. I’m not rushing for a finale, hopped up on pheromones or lust. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to see that look on his face when he cums, but just the act of having him in my mouth is a moment not to go unappreciated.

Rolling my palm gently over his sac, I glide my tongue up the thick vein on the underside of his cock. Sighing, he scoots his feet closer to his ass, inviting. I slip my fingers down his crease and then back up. It’s nothing to write home about, just a light pet, but it feels more intimate than the times I’ve slipped my fingers inside him.

“Okay, okay,” he lets out in a rush. “I give up now. Come here.”

I go where I’m yanked, his fingers digging into the meat underneath my armpits. Landing on his chest with an oof , my amusement is stifled by the urgency of his mouth. His legs do some kind of contortionist thing, flicking my boxers off from around my ankles with his feet. Gripping my back with one hand, he stretches his other arm toward his nightstand and fumbles for the bottle of lube. Does he think I’m going to go somewhere if he lets go?

Bending his knees, he widens his legs around me and flicks the bottle open, leaning up to attack my mouth the entire time. I hear a squelch sound and then feel him flinch. His hand brushes against my balls, telling me he’s smearing his cold deposit over his hole.

Someone’s eager. Three cheers for foreplay.

“Impatient much?” I tease.

His slathered hand grips and coats me, stealing my breath. “Overdue,” he murmurs, nipping my lower lip. “Just overdue.”

I feel like a sex doll the way he guides my tip to his entrance. For the record, I have no problem being his sex doll. The look in his eyes isn’t the carnal one I’ve seen before at times. It’s wanting, but wanting for something far beyond the realm of physical touch. It’s soul-deep because I can feel it in my own as I stare back at him.

Moving my hand over his, I take hold of myself, stilling his movements. The first time I topped with him was an urgent flurry of insatiability that neither of us could stop. This feels like another first again, but I want to do it differently. He must register something because he draws his hand away and slides it up to the pillow. Gripping it, he waits patiently, like he’s just committed himself to a penalty box.

Leaning down, I swipe my tongue against his, a slow carving of his mouth. “I love you,” I whisper. The hairs on my arms spike as though they’re as aware as I am of how fragile that four-letter word can be. And then I press against his heated ring.

With a mewl, he opens immediately, drawing me in. His breath vents against my lips. His gaze drinks me in. God, all I ever did before was just fuck. Stroking his cheek, I return the smile he gives to me and feather a kiss over his lips.

As I learn the art of making love, I feather dozens more on the mouth that owns the words that give me purpose. His voice sings beautiful sounds that mine will never be able to with each undulation of our hips. For once, I feel no humility in not being able to mirror the exquisite noise. Every time I rasp or my throat makes a growl that should be a groan, it spurs him on. Somehow, I give him what he needs just as much as he does me.

Just when I think he’s close and I should push lovemaking to the wayside, he grips my ass, holding me deep inside him. Drawing his legs up around my back, he locks his ankles together. Carding his fingers into my hair, he sweeps his tongue around the inside of my mouth until I come up breathless.

“You don’t ever get to leave me, Easton Bennick. I love you too much to lose you.”

The words pull a painful sound from my throat. Reaching between us, I grip the end of his cock tight and stroke him. “I never will.”

His body squeezes me, unleashing the maddening build in my balls. A wave of heat engulfs my legs. I bury my groan into his kiss, feeling his release crest my grasp as I pulse inside him. His fingerprints are going to be indented on my back like a badge of honor. We shudder and convulse against each other, a battle of two blissed-out bodies.

Blinking through my haze, I slip free when I can no longer stand the torment to my sensitized flesh. For some reason, I want to name the feeling coursing through my veins as he smiles up at me lazily. Happy and terrified. Happy and terrified. Maybe that’s what having the love of your life is supposed to feel like. The terrified part is no longer over the thought of him up and leaving or me screwing something up. It’s a terrified I can make peace with, one that I hope is years down the road.

Pulling my head down, he kisses me one last time. I peel myself away and stagger toward his bathroom on wobbly legs to fetch him something to clean up with. Once I’m back in bed, I bite back a smile when he pretzels himself around me.

A strong gust of wind rattles the windows. It pulls my mind to a dark place that I don’t want to go—a vision of Jason lying dead on the shore of Lake Maranacook. It’s in the next county. I’ll never know whether it was Leonard’s intention, but a morbid part of me is grateful he spared us from having the foul memory in our hometown by doing it away from Hampton.

Aaron’s brother must know everything by now, judging by the mood when I arrived earlier. I can’t imagine what their parents must think. Recalling all Aaron’s stories about them, I don’t suspect it was an easy thing for him to tell his family. There will probably still be legal questions or inquiries from the police as they dig into Jason’s past. Will this be a dark cloud over us forever? Right now, everything seems like nothing could disrupt the bubble of joy we created tonight, but Aaron has a lot to go through still.

A fingertip taps my forehead, and I find him smirking at me. “There’s a question in there. I can almost see it.”

“I was just wondering—” Thinking better of it, I shake my head.

“What?”

Grimacing, I don’t want to ruin his post-coital bliss, but I more or less promised not to hold things in anymore. “I was wondering…what do we do now?”

“Find something to eat,” he groans. “Because I’m starving.”

Chuckling, I press a kiss to his nose and glide my palm over his stomach. He must see something in my expression, however, because the playful twinkle in his eyes dies.

“That’s not what you meant, is it?” he murmurs, tracing my jaw.

“Forget it. I’m being…emotional.” I can’t believe I’m even using that word.

Intertwining our fingers, he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “No. It’s a good question.”

Fuck. The last thing I wanted to do was to make him sad or wary of the future.

“I have a suggestion if you want to hear it.”

“Yeah,” I agree, although I want to strike my question from the record. ‘ What do we do now?’

“Live,” he says with this calm sort of wisdom in his eyes. Smiling, he moves his hand over my heart. “And love. Everything else is just background noise.”

Live and love . It’s a two-step life plan I can’t find holes in. I think this is the moment I’ll officially quit worrying about what-ifs.

“You’re pretty smart for a sexy guy. You know that?”

Whipping off the covers, I get up, intent on feeding him. Intent on living and loving, no matter what comes.