Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
ROME
Right now, I’m hanging on by a thread. Last night brought me right to the edge, but ass class with Dex pushed me over.
I’m free-falling and ready to land in his arms.
Or, at the very least, on his dick.
The towel around my waist is barely hanging on, my cock attempting to harden and lengthen, to knock that piece of fabric right off my hips. But I just manage to keep it together. I’m about to walk away and find my sanity elsewhere when Dex opens the shower door and I’m face-to-face with him.
And he’s as naked as I am.
Lust and anger surge through me in equal measure—lust because he clearly wants me, and anger because he looks even better than when I left, and he’s been haunting my thoughts ever since. My hand finds his neck, guiding him backward until the door clicks shut and his back meets the wall.
My fingers tighten, feeling the quick, nervous beat of his pulse beneath my palm. Fuck him for looking this good. Fuck him for being so impossibly hot.
My hand leaves his neck, and my forehead presses against his. I’m trying like hell not to kiss him, to get on my knees and beg.
I won’t do that. I can’t. I can’t let myself have him.
He’s with someone else. I’ve seen them more than once on my Instagram feed, smiling, looking into each other’s eyes like a couple in love. So who the fuck am I to get in between that. I can’t be that guy.
And yet here I am, unable to stay away.
I step back, and our gazes collide. His pupils are dilated, and I know his cock is as hard as mine. They’re both covered by towels, but that doesn’t matter. The sexual energy between us is electric.
It’s buzzing up my spine, making me a nervous fucking mess. But I’ve been that way since he showed up at my rental last night, so why not have a few more panic attacks. You know, as a treat.
And that’s probably what tips me over the edge into spilling my guts and unburdening myself. Not that it matters. He won’t understand me anyway, but something in me needs him to know. It needs him to see it on my hands, in my language.
‘Fuck you,’ I sign, and he probably at least gets that one.
‘Fuck you for showing up again when I spent so long trying to forget you. Why are you always here? Why do you have to torment me? I thought three years would make this feeling more bearable, but you show up, and once again, I can’t look away.
Why are you still living rent-free in my head? Why can’t I get over you?’
My chest heaves as my hands falter, his eyes steady on my face. He doesn’t respond, because of course he doesn’t. He has no idea the words I’ve just torn myself open on and bled all over him.
But then he moves so quickly that I stumble backward. His hands go around my waist, and he pulls me into him. The towel that was clinging onto me slips to the ground, my hard length pressing up against his miraculous abs.
His hand moves up to my neck, holding on tightly, and his thumb tugs my bottom lip downward, forcing my mouth to open.
Then he hits me with a soft kiss, so tender and so fucking familiar, I melt in his arms. I fucking sink against him, my hands grasping on for purchase, a desperate sound moving up the back of my throat and into his.
He swallows it, his tongue thrusting forward and tangling with mine.
It’s quick and short. A promise of what’s to come.
A threat of how it’ll ruin me, before he pulls back and stares.
My hands are still on his shoulders, my nails digging into the muscles there, my entire body on fire.
And then he does something that has me nearly fainting.
One hand moves up, and in a single motion, he starts to sign. He has an accent, but he’s fluid, like he’s been doing it his whole fucking life. It’s easy, clear, and I hold my breath until he’s done.
‘I understood you. I know exactly what you said. And I want to know more. But first, get on your knees and show me how much you missed me.’
My exhale meets his, and then I do something I absolutely shouldn’t. He has a girlfriend, he’s in love with someone else, but fuck…he understood me.
He speaks my language.
He learned ASL.
I don’t know if I’m willing to believe he did it for me, but I don’t care. In this moment, all that matters is what I want. All reason has been discarded for another time of self-reflection.
I fall to my knees, ripping his towel away from his hips, and I take him down in a single swallow. His hands curl in my hair as he thrusts his hips forward, and his cock tunnels down my throat.
I choke and gag, but I don’t let go. I hold on to him as he uses me, like if I release my grip, he’ll disappear.
And when he comes a minute later, it coats my tongue in that old, familiar taste I’ve been craving since the day I left.
The entire time, his eyes are on mine, watching, curious.
And so fucking angry with me.
But it’s all lost on me because the taste of him is like food for a starving man. I gladly accept it, feeling it nourish an aching, empty part of me I’ve been neglecting for the past three years. And as I try to swallow all of him down, some of it drips down my chin and onto my chest.
The sensation is so erotic, I can’t hold back. My own orgasm hits me like a freight train, and I grip my cock just once before I let go. I feel my own release escape me, hitting the shower floor, and I can’t help but wonder if it makes a noise.
I glance up, and my eyes meet his as I shudder and shake, knowing I must look like a mess. I’m covered in him. In all of our memories, as short as they were.
And despite all of it, the only thing that matters is that he’s here. That he can speak to me now.
And there’s no escaping him again.
Dex helps me up once I’ve regained my composure, his gaze intense on me as my knees start to shake. Fuck, I should rinse off. I need to get rid of the evidence of what we just did.
He seems to think the same thing because he grabs our towels off the ground and steps to the side, pulling me with him back into the stall and flipping the water on.
‘Wait for warm,’ he signs, one-handed again. And just the way those signs flow together makes me think that he’s used to doing this. Maybe he’s been practicing with his girlfriend. Maybe she’s Deaf. Maybe he found someone who could accept his hearing without prejudice.
Guilt hits me at the thought of him cheating on her with me when he ushers me under the water and his cum slips from my skin.
I don’t even move. I let it wash it away, though the guilt doesn’t abate. He helps clean me up though, soapy hands cleaning my chin, my neck, and my chest, sending tendrils of quiet pleasure through me.
I should confront him for cheating, but I’m still slightly high off him and don’t want to break the spell we’ve cast in this small space.
‘Better?’ he asks me, and I nod, letting him flip the water off. He hands me a towel, and I just hold it up to my chest, letting it collect the water all on its own. I don’t help it along at all. I just can’t. I just stare at him.
He towels off, his eyes flicking up to meet mine every few seconds.
‘You okay?’ he asks, and I swallow, nodding. ‘You surprised I know ASL?’
He pauses and then closes his fist near his throat, looking smug while he does it. He’s conveying my embarrassment and mocking me for it, but I have no response.
‘Fine. Don’t mind. I know you underestimated me. Think hearing people can’t sign fluent and can’t have Deaf heart.’ He ties his towel around his waist and then grabs mine and dries me off, tucking it around my hips when he’s done.
It’s hard to let him, and it’s impossible to push him away. I’ve never been taken care of like this, and it’s becoming addicting.
When he’s done, he stands up and flicks my nipple, making it pebble. ‘Proved you wrong.’
And then he turns around and strides from the shower, leaving me standing there for a long minute with everything but my dick out, my breath heaving in my chest.
When I finally manage to find some semblance of balance, I follow him out of the stall, my eyes scanning the locker room, trying to find him, but he’s long gone.
Fuck.
I shove my hands into my hair, and my trembling fingers tug on it as I try to regain my composure.
But it’s hard when I’m so confused. Everything is collapsing around me, and I’m half-naked in the gym, trying to focus.
You need to put clothes on, my brain screams at me as the locker room door opens and two strange men walk in.
They smile at me a little awkwardly, and I quickly turn toward the locker I claimed as my own.
When I’m dressed, I need to find him and talk to him. I need to find out what the fuck is going on between us and why the hell he cheated.
Or maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should just leave and save myself the trouble.
It’s not like he’s going to choose me over her, and maybe this was all my fault anyway.
He could have been happy if I never came back here.
He would have moved on and gotten married and had babies or whatever annoying thing couples do when they fall in love.
And I can go on with my life, even if I’ll never fully get over him.
I get dressed as quickly as I can manage.
I don’t know if I can escape without running into someone I know, but I’m damn well going to try.
I slip my shoes on before anyone can attempt to make small talk, then head out of the locker room before bursting into an almost jog, heading for the front doors.
And of course, I immediately spot the other man I don’t want to see.
Thom gets my attention with a wave, then points at my shirt. ‘Backward,’ he signs with a grin.
He’s right, but I don’t bother to stop and fix it. I need to get the hell out of here before I see Dex again and do something else I’m going to regret.