Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined Book 2)

by Nikole Knight

  He captured my chin before I could refocus on my cake, and I screeched in protest. “Cut it out. You’re ruining your birthday for us.”

  The twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away, and my mood soured further. He was mocking me. “Maybe I’ll break up with you, and you can date my father, like you clearly want to.”

  As he shook his head, he sighed heavily, like our conversation was taking a toll on him. “Not that I’m against dating refined, older men, but he’s not as pretty as you.”

  “I hate you.”

  With my chin still in his grasp, I couldn’t turn away when he tried to kiss me. His lips moved against my still ones, not giving up until I sagged in defeat and kissed him back. As a reward, he sucked my tongue into his mouth and gave me a taste of what his talented mouth was capable of.

  “You suck,” I muttered the moment we parted, panting and flushed, and he cheesed.

  He turned my own words against me. “But you still like me.”

  I frowned. “Unfortunately.”

  I angled my head, granting him access to my neck, and he took advantage, suckling my sensitive skin as I placed the box holding my dessert strategically over my lap to hide my desire.

  “Are you gonna stop pouting, now?” Ben nipped at the nape of my neck.

  I nodded reluctantly. “I guess.”

  “Good.” He pecked my cheek noisily before releasing me and rounding the couch. “Charlie, it’s safe.”

  Dad entered the living room, sheepish and apologetic, and I grudgingly offered both him and Ben bites of my dessert. When the cake was nothing but crumbs, I tossed the box into the garbage and cuddled into Ben’s side as we watched Gladiator.

  With his arm around my shoulders, Ben took my hand with his free one and drew designs over my palm. Electricity sparked along my skin as he touched me, and I forgot my earlier annoyance.

  “Oh, Aunt June wanted me to invite you both for Christmas dinner,” Ben mentioned a few hours later as he shrugged on his coat. “Unless you had other plans, of course.”

  I glanced at Dad, half-asleep on his La-Z-Boy. “No, we usually just spend Christmas here.”

  “Well, she loves entertaining, and she always makes a feast.” He finagled his fluffy hat onto his head. “You should come.”

  “Okay. I’m pretty sure Dad won’t mind.”

  “Cool.”

  As Dad snored softly, I slipped my bare feet into my boots and grabbed my coat, intent on walking Ben to his car.

  Snow swirled around my face as we trudged through the gathering banks, and I hooked my arm around his to keep me stable. Knowing my klutzy self, I’d fall and break my leg.

  Leaning against the driver’s door, Ben widened his legs so I could stand between them, hands on my hips. I snuggled into him, seeking warmth from the winter chill.

  He pecked my forehead. “I’m sorry if your dad and I ruined your birthday. I didn’t mean to.”

  Our breath fogged between us as I flicked the zipper of his coat. “You didn’t. It’s just, Dad talks about her like she lost a valiant battle with cancer or something. But she didn’t; she just left. She was selfish and bitter, and checked out without a goodbye.” I swallowed thickly, eyes closing as Ben glided his lips over my brow. “He still loves her, and he shouldn’t.”

  “We can’t help who we love, Si. My mom loved my father, even when he hurt us.”

  “That’s not love. Love shouldn’t be toxic.”

  With a finger under my chin, he lifted my face. “Sometimes, it is. It doesn’t make it any less love, at least to those feeling it.”

  I traced his jaw, watching the shadows play behind his eyes. “That’s sad.”

  “That’s life.”

  When we kissed, it was stained in sorrow, and I drank in the melancholy tainting his lips. He held me close, his fingers under my coat digging into my back. I massaged his scalp as I darted my tongue into his mouth, only to retreat and repeat. As I fucked his mouth with my tongue, he clung to me, his desire for me hardening against my groin.

  “So, uh, how roomy is your backseat?” I mused between kisses, and he chuckled.

  “Not roomy enough for what you’re thinking.” He gasped when I sucked on his Adam’s apple.

  “Hmm, damn. I was hoping for a birthday orgasm.”

  His husky chuckle sent shivers down my spine, and I scraped his skin with my teeth. “Well, if you come for Christmas, we can sneak into my room and have a private party.”

  “Just the two of us?”

  He grinned wickedly, his eyes feasting on my face. “Yeah, just the two of us.”

  “V.I.P. I like the sound of that.”

  With one last sound kiss, he practically shoved me away with a lukewarm complaint about lacking self-control. He straightened his erection in his jeans before crawling into his car, and I cackled at his discomfort.

  Standing in the driveway, I waved goodbye, blowing him a kiss as he drove away and disappeared around the corner.

  Eighteen

  Three days later, Christmas dawned chilly and gray, but the heavy snow reflected the cloudy light, brightening the morning somewhat. After a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, Dad and I killed time until Will and Cora were awake, then we Skyped as we opened presents.

  Will and Cora received a lot of baby presents from Dad and me, cute clothes for miniature people and a camera monitor for the baby’s room. I bought Will a World’s #1 Dad coffee mug. Will and I had gone in together to purchase two tour passes to an Indianapolis brewery for Dad and Uncle Rick, and I got another gag gift from Will, a neon-pink shirt with glittery letters reading, I’m fabulous!

  This was becoming tradition, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. But Will found it hilarious, laughing until he cried.

  Dad’s gift made up for Will’s lame one, and I opened my new laptop with huge eyes. It wasn’t brand new, but it was faster than Will’s five-year-old hand-me-down I’d been using since he left for college.

  “Oh my God, Dad. It’s great.” I hugged him tightly, snickering at his blush as he dismissed my gratefulness.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent exploring my new computer. When it was time to leave for Christmas dinner at Ben’s, I reluctantly shut the beauty down and got dressed.

  Dad parked in Ben’s driveway fifteen minutes after five. As we exited Dad’s SUV, I cringed at the Christmas music filtering from the house.

  Apparently, Aunt June was a fan, and I fortified myself for an evening of puke-inducing merry music.

  Leading Dad through the garage, I let myself in after a hesitant knock. Dad and I sighed at the delicious blend of savory herbs, roasting meat, and baking sugar that greeted us. This was better than leftover Chinese food or frozen pizza.

  “Silas, welcome, dear!” Aunt June fluttered into the room, a glass of red wine already in her hand, and my neck warmed when she enveloped me in one of her typical motherly hugs. “We’re so happy you’re both joining us. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.” I patted her back as I balanced the small stack of presents in one hand. “Thanks for inviting us. Um, this is my dad, Charlie. Dad, this is Ben’s aunt, June.”

  I stepped to the side as they exchanged introductions, and my dad blushed as Aunt June unceremoniously tugged him into a welcoming hug. Footsteps preceded Uncle Henry’s appearance, and he and my dad shook hands as Aunt June introduced them. The adults shuffled out of the kitchen as Uncle Henry offered my dad a beer. Ben clambered up the basement stairs a moment later.

  I’d barely set the stack of presents on the counter before I was captured in a familiar set of arms. His spring soap permeated the air, headier than usual, and I yelped as he spun me in a half-circle, pressing his face to the nape of my neck.

  Reaching behind me, I cupped the back of his neck, the damp curls at the base of his head slicking my fingers.

  “Merry Christmas, Silas,” he breathed into my neck.

  I grinned as he placed a kiss beneath my ear. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”
>
  As I turned in his hold, his grip on my waist tightened, and I grunted when he swooped in for a surprisingly passionate kiss. I reciprocated with zeal, arching into his body as his tongue invaded my mouth.

  When we parted half a minute later, we panted for air, cheeks flushed.

  “Well, hi.” I gathered my bearings, drunk on his spearmint lips, and he pecked my mouth again.

  “Hi.”

  Aunt June invited everyone into the dining room, breaking our intimate moment. Ben took the pile of gifts to their Christmas tree as I sat at the table. Dad sat at the head beside me, and Aunt June and Uncle Henry took the seats across. Ben, of course, took the vacant chair to my right.

  It was safe to say, I wasn’t disappointed in the food. Aunt June had outdone herself with a Christmas feast fit for a king, and I swore I gained ten pounds in one evening. Honey glazed ham and roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, yams, green bean casserole, and creamy gravy mounded on my plate. I took great joy in stuffing my face.

  For dessert, I gorged on apple pie topped with ice cream while Ben smothered his entire plate with whipped cream until his pie was completely hidden in the white fluff. I snuck a few sips of my dad’s beer before Aunt June noticed and poured Ben and I a quarter-goblet of champagne to share between the two of us. Apparently, holidays were an excuse to allow under-age drinking. No one heard us complain.

  As my dad and Uncle Henry cleared the table of dishes, I collapsed on the couch, my feet in Ben’s lap. I rubbed my swollen belly, moaning as he massaged my socked feet. I wriggled my toes with a naughty smirk as I patted my muffin top.

  “What shall I name my food baby?” I asked conversationally.

  Ben grimaced in horror. “I thought we already established I hadn’t knocked you up?”

  Cackling, I lifted my shirt to present the exaggerated bulge from my overindulging at the table. “If this isn’t a food baby, I don’t know what is.” Ben screwed up his face in disgust, and I poked his stomach with my toes. “Ben! Help me name my food baby.”

  He rolled his eyes impatiently. “I don’t care what you name your baby, Silas, just don’t expect me to pay child support.”

  With rosy cheeks, he winked, and I roared with laughter. “Fine, no child support, but you should still help me name our Christmas love child.”

  “Love child? You’re incorrigible.”

  Our laughter faded when the parents joined us in the living room. I rose to a sitting position to make room on the couch for my dad. Aunt June waddled to the Christmas tree and carried a small stack of gifts to the couch. Depositing them in my lap, she repeated the action for Ben.

  Ben shifted uncomfortably as three sets of eyes watched us, the only ones with presents, but I had no such qualms. I ripped open the wrapping paper, feeling like a little kid again, and Ben swiftly followed suit.

  A gift certificate for the movie theater, a pair of Christmas reindeer socks, and penguin slippers were the first presents revealed, and I thanked Aunt June with a smile. Ben’s presents were similar, though his gift card was for a restaurant and his slippers were snowmen, not penguins. Our socks matched.

  “Wait, is this for real?” Ben asked as he unfolded several pieces of paper from an envelope, and Aunt June beamed, nodding. “Wow, this is great. Thank you!”

  He gave his aunt and uncle each a hug, then returned to his seat and showed me the gift—a plane ticket to California at the end of February.

  “Your friends chipped in, too, so be sure to thank them,” Aunt June said, and Ben nodded.

  “I will, I will.” Ben shook his head, his lips stretching in a huge grin. “I haven’t been back since moving out here. This is… Thank you.”

  I shared a smile with him as he read the details of the itinerary, but deep down, I was already selfishly wallowing. It was only a weekend, but just the thought of Ben being gone for that long and leaving me here alone depressed me. Of course, I was being pathetic and egocentric. I shook off the melancholy and refocused on the rest of my gifts.

  The next wrapped item was from Ben, and I furrowed my brow in confusion when I found a calendar inside. “A calendar?”

  “I designed it for you. Check inside.”

  Obeying, I flipped through the months, each one depicted by a beautiful scenic photo with a quote. The cheesy pictures puzzled me until I read the first quote, and everything clicked. Guffawing, I went through each month, my eyes watering. He’d designed a Silas-inspired calendar, and I read January’s quote to explain my amusement to the befuddled adults.

  “Never wish upon a star. It’s been dead a million years, just like your dreams.” Ben snorted as I chortled, turning to February. “Just have patience. If you wait long enough, eventually all the people you hate will die of natural causes.”

  Dad understood immediately, laughing at the pessimistic quotes. Aunt June shook her head with a simper, sipping at her wine.

  “Oh my God, this is gold. Thanks, Ben.” I landed a sloppy kiss on his cheek as he carefully peeled the tape from his first gift from me.

  “You’re welcome.” Where I had shredded the wrapping paper, Ben carefully unwrapped it, folding it neatly before scrutinizing the shoe box. “Should I be scared?”

  I shrugged, biting my bottom lip. He lifted the lid cautiously only to throw his head back with a laugh at the contents. Dumping the box on the floor, he shoved my shoulder as individual silver-wrapped sticks of spearmint gum scattered across the carpet.

  This time, Dad was the one misunderstanding the joke, but I was too busy cackling to explain it.

  “Well, I won’t be running out of gum anytime soon.” Ben knocked my shoulder with his. “Thanks, Silas.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After we gathered the sticks of gum and returned them to the box, Ben watched me open the gift bag. I cleared the tissue paper and gazed inside, my stomach simmering as I discovered his California hoodie inside.

  “This is yours, you idiot.” I pulled the hoodie out and admired it.

  “Well, it looks better on you.”

  I stuck out my tongue at the lame compliment, and he huffed, his eyes glittering as I slipped the loose hoodie over my head. Ben liked the shirt I’d bought him, reading, There are 1 0 types of people, those who understand binary and those who don’t.

  He’d laughed, especially when I admitted to not understanding the joke.

  When we’d opened all our presents, we gathered the discarded wrapping paper and tossed it in the garbage. The parents talked in the living room, and Ben and I escaped to the kitchen under the guise of washing the dishes.

  We did do that, but we also made out. A lot.

  Shushing me at even intervals, he attached himself to my mouth as I moaned at the overwhelming mint on his tongue. My soapy hands tangled in his hair as he dropped his hands to my hips before shaping my ass and sliding them lower.

  With a firm grip on my thighs, Ben hoisted me onto the counter and shoved between my legs as I attempted to stay quiet. The risk of getting caught was strangely exciting. I’d never noticed how much noise I made until I had to consciously hold myself back. Maybe I really was a screamer.

  Ben sucked on the nape of my neck, and, after checking his handiwork, he grinned. Of course, he would feel the need to mark me. Now I would be sporting a hickey for all to see. How embarrassing.

  “Seriously? A hickey?”

  Unaffected by my rebuke, he nodded and kissed me. “So,” he mused against my lips, “about that V.I.P. party in my room.”

  I hummed in interest, but my dad’s voice cutting through the room shattered the lusty atmosphere.

  Ben stepped back, creating distance, and my palm scrubbed my face in hopes of removing the aroused stain on my cheeks.

  “Silas?” Dad entered the kitchen followed by Aunt June. “You ready to head out?”

  Ben answered before I could, sporting an innocent, charming smile. “Actually, Charlie, I was hoping Silas could stay a bit longer. I’ll drive him home, of course, if you’re ready
to leave, but would it be alright for him to stay?”

  With a shrug, he studied my flushed face and mussed hair, wincing slightly. “Uh, sure thing. Just don’t be too late. It’s starting to snow again.”

  “We won’t.” My face blistered as I hopped down from the counter, praying no one noticed the situation in my jeans. “Come on, Ben.”

  Grabbing his hand, I dragged him to the stairs, and we trampled down the steps like a herd of elephants. I tripped twice, and Ben saved me from face-planting, teasing my clumsiness. I ignored him, bursting into his room before shutting the door behind us.

  I aimed for looking seductive as I locked the doorknob, biting my bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily when he swallowed. Mission accomplished.

  “So, as the V.I.P. guest, do I get to pick the dress code?” I waltzed across the room and sank into his mattress, hands clasped between my knees.

  Instead of joining me on the bed, he leaned against the pool table and crossed his arms over his chest. “Dress code?”

  “Mhm, the dress code. I think I should choose.”

  “Of course, you do,” he drawled with a smirk.

  “Naturally, now lose the shirt.”

  With red cheeks, he shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “How about this? For every question of mine, you answer honestly, I’ll remove an item of clothing.”

  Oh, things were getting interesting. “Like Strip Truth or Dare?”

  “Strip Truth or Truth,” he corrected, and I laughed.

  “Okay, Casanova, ask away.”

  He pretended to ponder, tapping his chin. “When did you know you were gay?”

  “Not the question I expected.” I ran my hand through my hair as I thought back, trying to pinpoint the moment. “I dunno, I guess in middle school. There was this girl, Candace Schrock, and she liked me. All my friends told me I should kiss her during recess, but I never did because I didn’t want to. I wanted to kiss Cameron Matthews. He was a grade above me and really cute. Unfortunately, Cameron had a girlfriend, so…” I splayed my hands mournfully, and Ben grinned.

  “Ah, unrequited love.” I motioned for him to remove his shirt, and he chuckled as he obeyed. I grunted in annoyance at his undershirt, and he winked. “Your turn.”