Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined Book 2)

by Nikole Knight

  Sniggering, I trailed kisses down his neck as he relaxed under me. “I was being serious. Nothing lifts your spirits like an orgasm.”

  “Are you seriously hitting on me, right now? I look like I played Chicken with a freight train and lost.” His smile was crooked, his puffy lip distorting the picture.

  I wiggled my eyebrows playfully. “Well, it was incredibly stupid of you to rise to his bait, but you did defend my honor. And it was kind of sexy watching you go batshit on his ass. I’m pretty sure you broke his nose, again.”

  My fingers followed the shape of his collarbone as his lips pursed in reprimand. “I should have broken more than just his nose.”

  “No!” I flicked the tip of his nose, and he flinched with a grunt. “No talking about him or what he said. We’re focusing on the benefits of a hand job, right now. Stay focused.”

  His lips thinned in displeasure, even as his eyes splashed with entertainment. “No offense, but I’m not exactly in the mood to pursue your line of thinking.”

  “Party pooper,” I grumbled, and he shook his head in exasperation as I winked.

  “You’ve just got a one-track mind,” he chided.

  “And I’m apparently terrible at the art of seduction.” I faked a pout as he pinched my side halfheartedly. Squirming, I inhaled sharply as warm fingers spanned over my ribs. “I thought you weren’t in the mood?”

  He smirked as my breath shuddered past my lips. “I’m not, but you’re not the only one who gets to tease.”

  Without warning, his hand at my waist slid to the waistband of my sweatpants, and the fire in my veins turned to ice. As his palm grazed the front of my pants, I choked. Musk fogged my brain, and I cinched Ben’s wrist in a death grip.

  “Stop.” I swallowed the sudden hysteria as I shoved his hand away violently, my panic morphing to frustration. “Don’t fuck with me just to leave me hanging.”

  The playfulness on his face shifted to remorse then hurt.

  I scrambled from his lap and mussed my hair, tugging subtly on the strands until my scalp pinched.

  “Si—”

  “You’re melting.” I snatched the soggy bag from his body and grabbed the defrosted peas I’d used earlier.

  Unable to face him, I left the living room.

  Tossing the bags into the sink, I gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles whitened. My pulse pounded in my ears as my lungs constricted, and tears clogged my throat.

  After a moment, the fear subsided almost as quickly as it appeared. I ground my teeth as I glared at the kitchen faucet. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  “I’m sorry,” Ben’s regretful tone cut through the air and sliced through my chest. “I thought we were playing around. I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s fine.” I forced the anxiety away and turned to face him. He stood at the end of the breakfast bar, watching me warily. The insecurity in his expression twisted my stomach. “We were playing. I’m just, um, being an ass. My face hurts, and I’m tired. It’s… just forget it.”

  He studied the linoleum and nodded. “Okay.”

  The oppressive awkwardness thickened until I couldn’t stand it, and I crossed the kitchen until we stood toe-to-toe. “I’m not, like, mad or anything. I just have resting bitch face.” His lips twitched, and I tentatively reached for his hand. “You should just ignore me when I’m cranky.”

  His eyes flashed mischievously from underneath his lashes. “So, all the time, then?”

  I wrinkled my nose with a harrumph. “Watch yourself, Adams, or the only company you’ll be having is your right hand.”

  Rolling his eyes, his pale cheeks dusted pink as he reached for my hand. “Nothing much will change, then.”

  Our fingers twined as he snickered into his shoulder, and I threw my head back with a chortle. “Keep talking like that, and I really will get horny.” I winked as his neck colored to match the blush on his cheekbones.

  “Not sure how you can be attracted to me with my face looking like this.” He waved at his wounds.

  I stifled a laugh as my free hand traced the dark bruise around his eye. “I’d like you even if your face was melted by acid.”

  He chuckled painfully, hand on his side. I tucked my face into his neck, pecking his throat.

  “How romantic,” he panted between agonized laughs.

  We stood in the loose embrace for several minutes, our laughter drifting away. When Ben angled my head to scrutinize the bruise forming on my jaw, I took his hand and squeezed it, kissing his mangled knuckles.

  The guilt returned, choking me, as I led him to the sink and washed the dried blood from the back of his hand. He guided me until he could wrap his free arm around my waist from behind, his chin falling on my shoulder. His breath warmed the nape of my neck as the cool water cascaded over our hands. For a moment, I wished I could stop time.

  I wanted to stay here in this moment forever, the warmth of his body at my back as he held me securely. Sturdy, reliable, safe, he supported me, and I hoped he never let me go.

  Ten

  The fight with Boyt notwithstanding, the following weeks were possibly the best weeks of my life. It was sickening how deliriously happy I was. Ben and I were practically inseparable, connected at the hands and, in more private moments, the mouths. We waltzed down school corridors with my arm around his waist, my fingers tucked into his back pocket, as he rested his arm along my shoulders. Had it been anyone but me, I’d have barfed at our sappiness.

  Of course, I kept things P.G. when we had company, but behind closed doors, all bets—like Ben’s shirts—were off.

  Ben shirtless was becoming my favorite view. Any time we hung out in his room, I did my utmost to undress him as much as possible before he got too shy and rebuked me.

  So far, I’d gotten him shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned. He was always amiable for above-the-belt play, but anything below was still off-limits. No amount of pouting had changed his mind… yet. But I was anything if not persistent.

  Granted, it was a blessing in disguise given my shaky emotional state. I could handle a heavy make-out session, no problem, but if hands—even mine—got too close to my crotch, I broke into a cold sweat.

  It was infuriating.

  But even our make-out sessions stayed pretty tame since Ben was wounded and frail, like an old lady. It took a week for his face to heal, and even longer for his side. Even now, two and a half weeks later, his torso tinted the gross yellow-green color of faded bruises.

  The last Monday of the semester was frigid. Snow mounded in deep drifts, and ice slicked the roads. Mabel fish-tailed at every turn. I crawled along at a measly fifteen miles per hour to ensure I didn’t end up in the ditch. With Dad gone till Saturday, I’d have to call Ben’s uncle to dig me out.

  Thankfully, I made it to school in one piece and parked my truck a few spaces down from Ben’s silver Impala. He leaned against the hood, dressed in his bulky winter coat and fluffy hat. The moment I rolled to a stop, he loped over to me.

  His blue eyes were bright, no longer shadowed by bruising, and I couldn’t stop my responding grin as he waited for me on the sidewalk, bouncing on his toes. His smile was contagious, and my fingers twitched with the desire to rip off his hat so I could see his dimple—and kiss his face off, of course.

  “Hey, Silas.” He tugged me close and—hunching to adjust to our height difference as he teetered on the edge of the curb—he plopped a deep, close-mouthed kiss on my lips. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, indeed. What’s got you in such a good mood?” I pecked his mouth again, his lips chilled from the wind. His cold fingers twined with my warmer ones as he guided me toward the school.

  “Can’t I be happy to see my boyfriend?” he deflected.

  I narrowed my eyes as he practically dragged me into the bustling building. “I’m glad to be the reason for your happiness, but it’s Monday, and we have semester exams this week. So…”

  Rolling his eyes, he huffed. “You know, the glass is
allowed to be half-full sometimes.”

  “I substitute your reality for my own, and in my reality, there is no glass.” I stuck my tongue out at him, and he chuckled.

  “Come on, Debbie Downer.” I scowled at the name as he tugged me down the slowly filling corridor. “The semester is almost over, and there’s a lot to be happy about.”

  “Not this happy,” I quipped suspiciously.

  The giddiness to his demeanor both confused and frightened me. What was he planning?

  Less than a minute later, the bright colored streamers and bobbing balloons attached to my locker revealed the secret to Ben’s excitement, and heat flooded my face as we came to a stop. The words, Happy Birthday, Silas, were glued to the door in rainbow construction paper, and I could barely find my combination dial through the plethora of festive decor.

  Students gawked, some laughing while others made embarrassing “aw” sounds as they passed. I fingered one of the lime green streamers as I fought my mortified pleasure.

  No one had ever decorated my locker for my birthday before. To be honest, my birthday was usually swept up in Christmas festivities since it was only three days before the major holiday. The folderol was utterly ridiculous, but the meaning behind the gesture filled my stomach with foreign butterflies.

  I’d never felt special before, at least not in a good way. But I did in this moment. I felt ten feet tall, and it took all my self-control to stop moisture from filling my eyes.

  Instead of blubbering like a pathetic baby, I adopted my sass. “Why does it look like a birthday party threw up on my locker?” With hands on my hips, I rounded on Ben, who was busy giggling into his hand like a little kid. “It’s not my birthday till Saturday.”

  “It’s during vacation, so…” He left the statement hanging, shifting his weight as his joy dulled to worry. “Is it too much? I can take it down if—”

  “Oh, shut up,” I griped and threw my arms around his neck. “It’s great. Really.”

  He kissed the nape of my neck and squished me. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “Yeah, right. You totally did.”

  Grinning like a fiend, he released me from the embrace. “Okay, maybe a little.”

  I inspected my birthday locker again, and my cheeks ached from smiling. “Well, it’s nice. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I had help.” Ben glanced over his shoulder, and I was immediately assaulted by heady hair spray, floral perfume, and lots of hair as Caroline and Kim attacked me.

  They giggled and shrieked, singing a terrible rendition of Happy Birthday, and I prayed for the floor to swallow me.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t.

  “Oh my God, it’s not even my birthday. Get off me, she-devils.” I struggled, but their arms entrapped me like pythons. “Benjamin, this is your doing. Help me!”

  “You love it, and you know it.” Kim planted a slobbery kiss on my cheek, and I caterwauled in protest.

  Thankfully, Ben freed me from the mire of breasts and lip gloss, and I took refuge against his side as the seven-minute bell rang.

  “Away with you, wench and concubine!” I hissed like a cat and received two matching eye rolls and Kim’s middle finger.

  “Should have made you a birthday crown and sash,” Kim said, and Caroline squealed with laughter. “You’d look hella fabulous!”

  “I already look hella fabulous, biatch.” I snapped my finger with an obnoxiously feminine flair, and Ben groaned. He hated it when I acted flamboyant. “Now scram so I can suck face with my boyfriend.”

  They scampered away, roaring with laughter, and I winked at Ben as I opened my locker and fought through the balloons to reach my econ binder. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ben.” He chuckled as I batted away the balloons. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

  Once I retrieved my binder and shoved my backpack into my locker, I popped onto my toes and kissed him. He smirked against my lips.

  “We don’t have time to suck face,” he mumbled against my mouth, and I nipped his bottom lip.

  “Well, then, I guess you’ll have to come over after practice so I can suck something else,” I purred, and he stiffened instantly.

  Blue eyes widened, and his face turned a hysterical shade of puce as he choked out unintelligible sounds.

  A lascivious grin spread over my face as I dragged a finger down his sternum, ending at his belt buckle. I tapped it once. “Have a good morning, Benjamin. I’ll see you at lunch.”

  With another peck to his frozen lips, I strutted down the hallway, cackling at the furious, yet heated, way he watched me leave. My stomach bubbled pleasantly, and I hugged my binder to my chest. Today was going to be a good day.

  Classes were dedicated to test preparation, and my eyes glazed on more than one occasion as I fought to remain conscious. Instead of focusing on study guides, I fantasized about Ben and all the naughty things I wanted to do to him after school. Sure, I couldn’t exactly satisfy myself, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t impatient to get inside his pants.

  By lunch, I was sporting a semi, and when I met Ben at the entrance of the cafeteria, I practically attacked him.

  Smiling under the onslaught of affection, he kissed me back while simultaneously fighting to quell my enthusiasm. It was a losing battle, and eventually, he surrendered, allowing me to dominate his mouth.

  “Well, hello.” His cheeks flushed red as he gasped for oxygen.

  I grinned madly. “Hey.”

  With a nibble to his bottom lip, he twined our fingers and guided me to the lunch line. “I should decorate your locker more often if this is the thanks I get.”

  Arching a suggestive eyebrow, I snuck a hand around his waist and squeezed his ass. “If you were trying to seduce me, you didn’t have to go to such great lengths.”

  He tsked in reprimand and removed my hand from his ass. “I wasn’t trying to seduce you.”

  “Pity.” I pouted, turning to fill my tray with chicken strips and ranch, and he shook his head with a humored sigh.

  The moment we sat down to eat, Kim rounded on me with eyes bright and brows furrowed.

  I froze like I was facing a T-Rex. Maybe, if I didn’t move, she wouldn’t see me, and I could escape before she ripped me apart and ate me with her terrifying jaws.

  “Are you guys coming to take pictures with us before dinner or just meeting us at the restaurant?” Her question confused me, but the banner hanging on the wall behind her head jogged my brain.

  I burst into disbelieving laughter. “We’re not going to the dance!” I glanced at Ben, disappointed at the lack of amusement I expected.

  “You don’t want to?” He cocked his head to the side, curious.

  I sobered quickly. “W-What?”

  “The dance? You don’t want to go?” His thumb rubbed circles over the back of my hand, and I fought to read his serene expression.

  Was he serious or fucking with me?

  I faced him head-on, smothering my bewildered laughter. “Wait, you do?”

  He shrugged, grunting a non-verbal affirmative.

  My jaw dropped. “Are you insane? The dance committee would drive us off with torches and pitchforks, and we’d probably give the principal a heart attack.”

  “Why? Because we’re guys?” His lips thinned impatiently as I gaped, speechless. “You realize we live in modern-day America, right? Nobody actually cares.”

  “You’re certifiable.” I tore off a piece of chicken and dunked it in ranch. “They’d probably stone us.”

  “You know, eventually, you’ll have to get over this complex of yours, right?”

  Irritation trickled through my veins, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “Complex?”

  “You don’t want to go to the dance? Fine. But don’t blame it on other people.” He waved his hand around the room, his tone clipped. “No one gives a shit whether we go together or not. So, stop pretending like we’ll get burned at the stake and you’re somehow doing me a favor.”

  He stabbed
his spaghetti violently with his fork, and the table fell into awkward silence. Harris stared at his plate as Kim and Caroline exchanged a heavy look. Jordan drummed his fingers on the table, and Ronnie did his best not to laugh outright.

  As the back of my neck heated, I focused on my plate, no longer hungry. I felt like a child being scolded, and my defenses rose instinctively. We bickered often enough, but Ben had never gotten mad at me in front of witnesses before. It was kind of humiliating.

  “Well, I don’t even dance,” I snapped after an uncomfortably long silence, and Ben’s shoulders slumped.

  “Fine, then don’t go.” He fished his wallet from his pocket and retrieved two tickets, tossing them at Jordan. “Here, you still needed to buy tickets, right?”

  He’d bought us tickets?

  Guilt assaulted me as Jordan saved the tickets from drowning in ketchup, mumbling a thanks. Kim and Caroline glared at me as Ben forced himself to eat, his face drawn.

  Well, shit on a stick!

  Swallowing my pride, I tentatively reached for his arm. “We can go, if you want.”

  “It’s not a big deal, Silas.” He withdrew from my touch automatically, and I cringed. “It’s just a dance. Don’t worry about it.”

  “You bought tickets. I didn’t know you bought tickets.”

  “It’s fine.”

  I gritted my teeth. “It’s not fine. I didn’t know you wanted to go or that you made plans. I just… You could’ve just asked.”

  The splotchy crimson on his cheeks leaked down his neck as he pushed his pasta around on his plate. “Well, I was going to—It doesn’t matter.”

  A smile teased my lips at his sudden shyness as my fingers grazed over the back of his wrist. “You were going to do one of those lame, superfluous, asking-me-to-the-dance things, weren’t you?”

  Embarrassed, he shrugged noncommittally.

  I ignored the obvious attention from the others at the table as I scooted closer to my distraught boyfriend. “I’ll go with you. Maybe it’ll be fun.”

  “You’re only saying that because you feel guilty.” He met my gaze, annoyance and discomfort swirling in his eyes. “That’s somehow worse.”