Better Than Beginnings: A Better Than Good Short Story Collection (Better Than Stories Book 5)

by Lane Hayes

  “Here. This one is for you.”

  I opened my mouth for him to pop a piece of candy in, but he pulled it away and turned in my arms to face me. “No, silly. Read it.”

  “Kiss Me.”

  I held his chin and softly brushed my lips over his. Aaron moaned into the kiss, licking my lower lip as he deepened the connection. We twisted our tongues lazily, then broke for air. I kissed his nose and motioned for him to turn over the half-empty box. I poured a few into my hand and immediately found the one I wanted. In purple. I cradled the tiny piece of candy in my palm, then presented it to him like a precious gift.

  “It’s upside down. What does it say?”

  “Read it,” I prodded.

  “I Love You,” he whispered.

  I stifled a sigh when I felt his muscles tense. I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing playfully before taking the candy and shoving it between his lips. Aaron made a straight, firm line with his mouth, so I tickled his sides and tried again. This time when he turned in my arms and licked at my lips, he broke the heart in half with his teeth and fed me one side.

  Interesting. I’m not great at reading between the lines, but I’d learned in a relatively short time that Aaron had a unique communication style that didn’t always involve words. Maybe in his own convoluted way, he was telling me he loved me too. Or maybe he was half-sure he did?

  I spent the next day at Aaron’s apartment, studying while he was at work. He was an assistant to the editor in chief of a fashion magazine and usually had somewhat normal office hours, which made his place ideally quiet during the daytime. When it was time to take a break, inspiration struck. I made a quick list before grabbing the spare key from the orange bowl on the kitchen table and heading to the grocery store.

  My cell phone rang just as I pulled into a parking space ten minutes later. I glanced at the caller ID and furrowed my brow.

  “Hi, Mom. Is everything okay?”

  “Of course. Everything is fine. I just haven’t talked to you in a while. I miss you. What are you up to?”

  “Well, I’m actually heading into the market right now. I’m making pasta tonight,” I replied, closing the car door and making my way to the entrance.

  “You’re cooking?” she asked incredulously.

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” I grabbed a basket from the stand and walked aimlessly toward the produce section.

  “Actually, it’s not.” My mom was hysterical. “Please tell me you aren’t doing this to your new girlfriend?”

  “First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend. And second—”

  “Sorry, sorry. Your new special someone? Matt, that just isn’t nice.”

  I wanted to be insulted, but it was true. I was not known for much in the kitchen besides boiling water and pouring cereal. Still…

  “What isn’t nice? My cooking?”

  “Sorry honey, but…yes. Tell me exactly what you have in mind. Maybe I can help you out.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not trying anything fancy. I found a recipe online for pasta with vodka sauce. It looked easy enough.”

  “You actually looked up a recipe? Wow! Who is this lucky girl? Erin, right? I cannot wait to meet someone who rates you going through the effort to look up a real recipe rather than opening a jar of store-bought sauce.”

  While she chuckled at my ineptitude, I cringed at her assumption that my “special someone” was a girl. I’d given them his name—or maybe my roommate Curt had let it slip to my family during graduation—but I hadn’t set them straight…pun intended. They didn’t know who Aaron was or that I was crazy about him. And no…they didn’t know he was a man. My family was the final frontier, the last and most important piece of my “coming out” process. I was planning on doing it in person, but the timing had been off.

  “Are you done making fun of me now? Any helpful hints besides ‘Buy the store-bought for backup’?” I kept my tone light as I threw some romaine lettuce into my basket.

  My mom laughed before adding a few helpful tips, like how much garlic and olive oil to use, and how to make my own salad dressing. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. I swung down the condiment aisle and tossed a bottle of Italian into the basket, throwing in an occasional “Mmhmm” so she knew I was listening.

  “Good luck with your dinner tonight, sweetheart. Follow the instructions and I’m sure it will be wonderful. Call me if you have any questions.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Let me know how it turns out and—oh, wait! I almost forgot. I have news. I’m coming to DC to visit you!”

  Okay. Not good.

  I broke out in an all-over insta-body sweat. The kind you get when you’re in situations of extreme duress or pressure and everything is about to go sideways. I dropped the basket at the edge of the checkout stand and flashed an apologetic grimace at the woman in front of me when I knocked over a box of feminine products. Then I shoved my free hand through my hair and tried to think of a way out.

  “Mom…you know I’m busy studying for the bar. It’s not really a good time.” I was stalling and probably coming across as a complete ass, but the panic was real.

  “Oh, please. Knowing you, you’ve been studying nonstop since graduation. It’s only one night. I’m actually going to meet your Aunt Jill in Virginia, but I arranged to stop in DC first. I’ll take you to dinner. Feel free to invite Erin too. One night, then I’ll be out of your hair. I promise.”

  I gulped and took a deep breath. “Sounds good.”

  What else could I say?

  By the time I was back at Aaron’s and unpacking my ingredients, I’d expertly filed my mom’s impending visit under “things to deal with later” and gotten on with the business at hand. Cooking was going to require all of my concentration.

  Aaron sent me a text before he left his office, letting me know he was on his way home. He had made it clear months ago that I was welcome to use his place to study or hang out, but there were no expectations I’d be waiting for him or that we’d sleep together every night. It just seemed to work out that way more and more often. I doubted he was overly surprised when I answered his text, saying that I was still at his place.

  I sprang into action, trying to clean the colossal mess I’d made. I wished there was a door I could shut so he wouldn’t be aware of the chaos I’d stirred up creating my first-ever homemade pasta dinner. No such luck. The galley-style kitchen had a pass-through counter that made it partially visible from the living area. I moved a potted plant strategically to the middle in a panic, but I wasn’t sure it would do much to detract his attention from the mess on the other side. I almost moved it back, thinking Aaron’s keen eye would catch my clumsy attempt at hiding a mess and actually draw him right to it. He was going to freak. There was tomato sauce everywhere. I cleaned the biggest spots, but the tiny red flecks dotted every fucking surface in the kitchen. If my pasta didn’t kill him, he might just kill me. Aaron had a thing about cleanliness.

  I gave the kitchen a once-over with a sponge and figured I’d do a better job later. Then I set the table for two and opened a bottle of wine before jumping into the shower. I’d just pulled a clean shirt over my head when I heard Aaron’s key in the lock.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi…” Aaron came farther into his apartment. He cast a curious glance at the set table and then at me.

  I crossed the room to pull him into my arms, taking a moment to appreciate how amazing he felt and smelled. I nipped at his ear and kissed his lips before letting him go.

  “Welcome home, baby.”

  “Why did you set the table? Did you get takeout? I have to admit, I am hun-gry!” He looked me up and down as if looking for a clue, but he didn’t seem overly concerned as he moved past me to get to his bedroom. I noticed him give the plant a second look, but thankfully he didn’t stop to adjust it or ask how it got there.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower and change. I feel sticky.”

  He was already undressing, pulling off his belt and unbu
ttoning his shirt. Everything in me wanted to stop and watch him strip, but I mentally shook myself and backed up.

  “Okay, I’ll pour you a glass of wine. Take your time,” I suggested before heading for the kitchen.

  I put the pasta in the boiling water, setting a timer as my mom had instructed, and poured a couple of glasses of vino. Aaron came out freshly showered and more comfortably attired in workout shorts, a snug-fitted tank top, and bare feet. My dick jumped to attention. He looked effortlessly beautiful with his damp, tousled hair and casual clothes. I must have been staring, because Aaron cleared his throat and held his hand out to take one of the two wineglasses I was holding, with a lopsided grin.

  “You are up to something. Fess up!” He raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his wine.

  “Well…” Saved by the timer! “I’ll be right back. Um…can you maybe just take a seat on the sofa while I bring dinner out?”

  “O-kay…”

  I raced to the kitchen to deal with the noodles before they turned mushy. I found the colander and a bowl for the pasta. Of course, I created another splatter mess when I poured the sauce from the pan over the noodles too quickly. I swore under my breath, knowing anything out loud would cause Aaron to come investigate. My goal was to get dinner on the table with no assistance from the head chef. I took a deep breath, then carried the salad and two bowls of pasta to the table.

  “What is all this?” Aaron had moved from the sofa and was watching me warily as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

  “I made dinner.” I think I actually blushed.

  Aaron glanced from the salad to the pasta before turning to me.

  “You made dinner?” he repeated.

  If I wasn’t standing right next to him, I might have missed what he said. His voice was soft and full of wonder.

  “Yes. Um…here…sit.” I pulled his chair out and waited for him to obey before taking the seat next to him.

  “Very simple, really. Salad and pasta with vodka sauce. Oh, and bread. Fuck! I’ll be right back!” I jumped out of my chair and ran over to the oven to pull out the very toasty extra-crusty bread. I shrugged. It looked edible. I cut a few slices and brought them to the table on a plate. Aaron glanced up when I returned with an unreadable expression on his face.

  “It’s a little crispy. Sorry. I should have set a timer for the bread too. I think it’s still good.”

  He was so quiet. So not Aaron.

  “You okay? Give it a try. I think it tastes all right. I tried it to make sure I wasn’t going to endanger either of us, and I think I followed the directions correctly. It’s a vodka sauce. I added sausage too. And the salad is just basic. Well, really it’s all pretty bas—”

  “Shhh, Matt. Stop.”

  He was right, I was babbling. My face still felt like I’d been out in the sun all day rather than over a hot stove. I was on pins and needles, waiting for his verdict.

  “Try it.”

  Aaron’s eyes looked suspiciously wet. He hadn’t seen the kitchen up close yet, so it couldn’t be that.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  “You haven’t even tried it. It might suck.”

  “I think it’s going to be amazing. You know, no one’s ever made me dinner before.”

  “No one?” I narrowed my eyes incredulously.

  “Well, my family and my friends have, but not…someone important. Thank you, Matty.” He lowered his gaze shyly before leaning in to kiss me.

  Aaron straightened, then unfolded his napkin with a flourish before setting it on his lap. He picked up his fork and made a production of serving himself salad and taking a big bite. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he chewed with gusto. Then he went suddenly still, dropped his fork, and clutched the edge of the table before keeling onto the floor next to my feet.

  I rolled my eyes. “Ha-ha. Very funny. Now try the pasta. You may have that reaction for real,” I warned.

  “Just teasing, darling.” He hopped to his feet with catlike grace and kissed my cheek before picking up his fork again. “First, tell me all about the recipe. Is it a super-secret family recipe? Will you be disinherited for sharing it with me?”

  “Take a bite, funny guy. I got the recipe off the internet. No big secret. I did ask my mom for a little assistance, though.”

  Aaron froze. “You looked it up and asked your mom for help too?”

  “Well, she happened to call when I pulled up to the market, so…take a bite. You’re stalling now.”

  He winked at me before gamely raising a fork full of pasta to his mouth. “Very good.”

  “You’re just saying that.” I picked up my own fork and decided it actually wasn’t bad after all.

  “What do you think?” he challenged me.

  “I think it’s pretty good, for a first-ever effort.”

  Aaron grinned and took another bite before regaling me with tidbits of his day at the office. Aaron-style. That meant his hands were moving a mile a minute, and his facial expressions and voice modulations changed theatrically to suit the story. I laughed appreciatively at his overembellished tales of office woes. He had a way of making even the most mundane daily happenings sound interesting.

  “…I couldn’t believe Marsha didn’t have a cow. It was the photo shoot from hell,” he said as he stood and gathered our plates.

  I grabbed his wrist before he got anywhere. “Wait. What are you doing?”

  “You cooked, I’ll clean.” He was off and moving toward the kitchen before I could stop him.

  “No, I’ll do it!” I jumped up after him, but I was too late.

  “Holy fuck!” Aaron stared at the pots and pans stacked in the sink, the bits of pasta stuck in the colander sitting on the counter alongside numerous crumbs, courtesy of the extra-crispy bread. I didn’t think he’d seen all the renegade tomato sauce spots yet.

  “I know, I know. I got this. Don’t worry.”

  Aaron stood perfectly still before slowly letting out a breath.

  “Honey. There is no way you can do this yourself in one night to my admittedly high standards. We’ll do it together.”

  So we did. I washed the bigger pots and pans and tackled the crumb problem while Aaron scoured the cooktop, ridding it of the offending sauce spots. He cranked up his favorite dance music at one point—“to make the job a bit more fun,” he claimed. Aaron shook his ass and twirled in circles to his techno noise while singing loud and off-key for my entertainment. Usually the incessant junglelike beat gave me a headache, but tonight, it made me smile. He made me smile.

  “Miracles do happen!” Aaron spun around the cramped space with his arms in the air.

  I caught him in my arms and backed him up against the counter. I ran my hands down his chest, then around his waist, cupping his ass and pulling him against me. I bent my knees so we were closer to the same height. Then I tilted my hips, groaning at the first feel of friction, before crashing my mouth over his. We made out with twisting tongues and roving hands as we grinded shamelessly. Aaron inched away to suck in a gulp of air, then jumped onto the countertop. He grinned mischievously as he wrapped his legs around my waist and pulled me between his thighs. I chuckled softly, biting his bottom lip before yanking my T-shirt off. I lifted Aaron’s over his head too and tossed them both over my shoulder.

  Aaron wrapped his arms around my neck, molding his chest to mine. I raked my hands through his hair and along his spine, alternately licking his lips and sucking his tongue. Then I slipped my fingers under the elastic of his workout shorts and briefs to trace his crack. He lifted his hips and purred in approval. Fuck. Shorts had to go.

  I licked a trail along his jawline before whispering in his ear. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go to bed.”

  “No. Stay. This is so sexy.”

  I inched back to look at him. “Don’t you want to—”

  “Yes. And I’m always prepared.” Aaron opened what he referred to as his “miscellaneous drawer” with his toes. He leaned over, then popped up and flashed a meg
awatt grin. “Look what I found.”

  He presented a small bottle of lube, and the half-empty box of candy hearts he’d shared with me yesterday. I plucked the lube from his fingers and pushed my shorts down before smacking his hip lightly and tugging at his waistband.

  “Put the candy away. Let’s get these off you.”

  Aaron tipped the box and pulled out a single heart before lifting his ass. I didn’t know what he was up to with the candy, and I didn’t really care. I needed to get inside him. Fast. I shoved the fabric out of the way and hiked my arms under his knees to slide him to the edge of the countertop so he was fully exposed to me. Fuck, he was beautiful. So open and confident and sexy. I poured some lube onto my fingers and massaged his entrance as I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock.

  “Mmm. That’s nice. Put your finger in me,” he demanded before popping the heart candy in his mouth and sticking out his tongue to show me.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered as I tapped his hole and stroked him.

  He rode my finger and begged for another. “Mmm, feels good. Kiss me.”

  I leaned forward to brush my lips over his just as he stuck his tongue out and fed me the candy heart. The casual sensuality paired with the intense lust in his eyes undid me. I dragged my teeth over his bottom lip. “What’d it say?”

  “ ‘Fuck Me.’ So you better do it, Matty.”

  I chuckled lightly as I lined up my cock at his hole and then pushed, slowly making my way inside. Aaron’s breath hitched when I was fully seated. He wiggled his ass and tightened his hold around my neck.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. So good.”

  Aaron pulled me closer and dug his heels into my lower back, wordlessly urging me to move…I started slow, hoping to make it last, but he wouldn’t let me. He wanted harder, faster, and more. And I gave it to him. We fucked madly and passionately, clawing at each other to get closer and find the right angle. It didn’t take long for me to lose control. I roared when my release hit, riding out the aftershocks until Aaron came a few seconds later.