Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
DEX
I definitely don’t regret what Rome and I did, but obviously, he does. He smashed his way out of my apartment the morning after being caught by Leaf and hasn’t looked my way since.
Not that I care.
Really. Not even a little bit.
Never mind he’s all I’ve thought about since that night. Never mind I wake up hard and frotting against my mattress at the memory of the way it felt when he touched me. Never mind he’s fucking here in the gym right now, very clearly avoiding me.
Meh. Whatever. I’m over him. I had my bisexual awakening, and now I can go find another hotter, nicer guy. And maybe I’ll parade him around in front of Rome and show him what he’s missing.
But I meant what I said. I don’t care.
My hand flexes on the dumbbell a little too hard, and my hand cramps. Damn it.
I can see him just on the other side of the gym, the muscles of his arms straining, his skin glistening with sweat.
Fuck, why can’t I get him out of my head?
The way he felt around me, the sounds he made, those eyes peering up at me?
I wanted to ask him what he was thinking before he stormed out of my apartment the morning after our night together, but I couldn’t.
I can’t communicate in his language well enough yet, and it didn’t seem fair to make him speak or write everything down.
Part of me wishes I could fast-forward a few years to when my skills are at least conversational and I’m able to understand him at Deaf speed, but hell, I’m not even sure it would matter if I were fluent. He won’t even turn my way.
His back is facing me right now, his eyes looking everywhere but at me.
Still, I know he can’t forget, even if he wanted to.
He has the video of what we did. The video of my cock buried deep in the back of his throat.
The moment he begged me to record on his phone so he could keep it.
I wonder if he rewatches it while jerking off to thoughts of me.
My cock starts to perk up in my pants, and I sigh. This is not the time for my dick to get hard in public for another man, but then again, when is a good time for that?
Rome has awakened something in me, and fuck, I want more.
I set the dumbbell down and bend over to grab a heavier one.
Maybe the burn in my muscles will travel down to my dick, and the semi I’m sporting right now will disappear.
I have to try something, or I’m going to get in trouble for indecent exposure.
I’m wearing baggy shorts with Lycra underneath, but it won’t hide much.
My eyes flick over to Rome again, and oh shit, he’s staring back at me.
He looks away quickly, but his cheeks are flushed red, visible in the mirror.
Biting back a smile because I know that will only irritate him more, I flex my abs at him.
I’m not close enough to hear, but the expression on his face tells me he’s probably making that little growling noise he does when he’s turned on and irritated.
And when he’s turned on and irritated, he’s handsy.
If I flex hard enough and smile wide enough, will that get him to storm over here and pin me to the bench?
God, I can picture it—his hands flying, his face a storm cloud, his lips pursed and ready to take my cock.
But no. This is not the time, and my gym is not the place for that. I have a reputation to maintain, and I don’t want to be known as the guy who got fucked against the abs machine with an entire gym full of customers watching.
I force my gaze away and focus on my workout. I don’t need any more distractions, and from the way he left me the other morning, I’m not sure he wants a repeat. Shit, I’m not sure I want a repeat.
I feel my cock continue to thicken in my shorts.
Well, okay, maybe I want a little one. A nice little taste.
A nibble, if you will.
I drift off again, lost in the memory of how his teeth felt digging into my tendon as he sucked on my neck. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a bruise behind, but it was hard enough to let me know he wanted to.
I almost drop my weight. Fuck.
I set it down, realizing that I’m never going to get a full workout done if Rome is in the same room as me, and this distracted, I’m probably going to hurt myself. I need to go shower and call this workout a wash.
I have a class in the afternoon, but in the meantime, I have a mountain of paperwork to distract myself with until it’s time. Or until Rome’s gone.
Either way, I need to focus on anything other than what happened between me and him. I can’t let this sudden and intense crush distract me from my responsibilities, and I have a lot of them.
I run PUMPT with my brother, but Thom’s dyslexia means he struggles with numbers and letters, which leaves the administration stuff to me. Which is fine, of course. I don’t mind that kind of busywork.
Maybe getting lost in accounting will help me stop thinking about Rome and his mouth. And his eyes.
His hands.
His dick.
His—
Enough! God, I have a serious problem.
Without another thought, I move toward the showers, waving to a few regulars as I head across the room. I can feel Rome’s stare on my back, burning a hole through my shirt, piercing my ribs and lungs. I want to look over and see if he’s following me, but I’m not brave enough.
Honestly, I don’t think I want to know. If he isn’t, the rejection will be a little too painful for me to deal with right now.
I opened myself up to him in ways I didn’t even know I could, and I think some of the reason I can’t stop fixating on him is because it was so raw and fresh, and he’s acting like it meant nothing.
Shit, this is all so much. Not seventy-two hours ago, I hadn’t done more than admire a guy’s peachy, round ass while he was doing squats—and okay, maybe I did jerk off a time or two while watching the guy in whatever porn I could find that was cheap and virus-free—but it was nothing more than that.
I never really questioned it before, but Rome has destroyed that for me now. There’s absolutely no going back or denying that not only did I enjoy it with a man, but I want to do it again.
My only saving grace in this whole situation is that being as close as I am with Thom, I suppose there’s no real shock to deal with in realizing I’m bi.
Just a quiet huh. Which I can handle. And I doubt anyone we know will care, which makes it so much easier to accept about myself.
At the very least, I’ll be supported. At the most—and my friends really are extra—there will be bi-flag-colored confetti.
That takes the sting out of Rome’s rejection and makes it a little easier to head out and slip into the locker rooms.
There are a few guys changing, most of them familiar regulars, and I shoot them a nod, though I keep my gaze toward the ground. It’s not so much that I don’t want to look at their dicks, but more that I don’t want to have a whole conversation about my life.
It’s kind of shit. I haven’t dated in forever, my one hook-up has been a disaster emotionally, and I have no one to talk to about it. I don’t even know what the fuck Thom will say when he finds out I slept with Rome. That’s a whole bag of wet cats I don’t want to open.
I think, in the end, he’ll be happy Rome’s distracted and not still fixating on Robbie, but I can’t help but wonder if this is a betrayal of some sort. God, did I fuck this up?
Taking a deep breath, I grab my shower tote out of my locker and slip into one of the stalls, closing the door firmly behind me. The water comes out cold at first, turning hot quickly. The burn helps as I press my hands against the tile and let it beat down on my back.
It’s not really helping, but it’s not making things worse, which is…something, I guess. I grab the soap and lather up, my hands skimming over my body and…god fucking damn it.
My dick is still hard, which is the opposite of what I wanted. It’s making it difficult to focus on scrubbing the sweat stains out of my pits.
Fuck. Will I have to live with a Rome-induced erection for the rest of my life? I can’t avoid seeing him completely. He might be Robbie’s ex—whatever—but they’re still friends, which means he’s always around.
And I can’t erase the memory of what happened after the club.
Wrapping my hand around my hard length, I stroke myself.
My head falls back against the tile as I squeeze down at the base, sending tendrils of pleasure through me.
The other guys are still in here. I can hear them finishing up with getting dressed, not a care in the world.
Not a sexuality crisis to be had amongst the group of them.
They’re blissfully ignorant about this pain.
They don’t even realize one of the co-owners of the gym they belong to is in the shower ten feet away, getting off to thoughts of a guy who can’t stand him.
Who won’t even look at him.
Who refuses to date hearing people.
Who has made me his one-night stand full of regret.
I roll my lips between my teeth, trying to bite back a moan as pleasure skirts up my spine. It’s really unfair that I’ve gotten this far in life without ever being with a guy, and the one man I lose it for is Rome.
If he wasn’t so fucking hot—if the way he hated me didn’t turn me on so goddamn much—this would be easier. But everything he does seems to trigger a needy fucking boner, and I can’t resist getting some relief.
My hand twists around the head of my dick, and my balls ache, begging for release.
And seconds before my orgasm hits, the shower door flies open.
I freeze, gasping and trying to cover myself when I realize it’s Rome’s face taking up my entire field of vision. He looks furious, and his dark, narrowed gaze darts down to where I’m still holding my dick, then up again to lock with my eyes.
How the fuck did he know where I was? Did he open every shower door and peek inside?
I open my mouth to ask, but he pulls his shirt off and tosses it onto the bench where my clothes are piled, and all other coherent thoughts flee my brain.
I fixate on his chest as it heaves with his breath.