Chapter 7
DENVER
Arhe reaches past me to open the closet door, and he gently pushes me inside, waiting for me to reach up and pull the dangling cord for the light. It bathes the small space in a soft yellow glow, and after closing the door behind him, he steps directly under the lamp.
It gives him an almost ethereal glow—like a halo shining behind his head, though I know he’s anything but heaven-sent. Our eyes are locked, and I feel his soft, puffing breath across my cheeks, and I can smell that he’s just had a fresh mint.
Was that for me? I’m too afraid to ask.
He leans in closer, and his hands curl into fists at his sides, almost like he’s stopping himself from touching.
And god, I know the feeling. I can see the jagged shape of the scar he has on his face.
It extends from the end of his eyebrow down to his lips.
I want to reach out and trace it, but I don’t.
‘Face. Scar.’ My finger drags down my face to show the placement of it. ‘Happen?’
His head cocks, and he lifts two fingers. ‘Knife.’
My eyes widen, but he doesn’t elaborate.
‘You want to expand on that?’ He blinks at me, and I sigh. ‘Okay, well, fine. Not Deaf-friendly, but whatever.’
His head cocks slightly. ‘Why not Deaf-friendly?’
I cock an eyebrow at him, but he just continues to stare at me. ‘You need to explain what happened. Details,’ my fingers and wrists snap. ‘Need. Details.’
He cocks his head once more, examining me, and then wets his lips. ‘Secret.’ He clenches his fist in front of his mouth, and I stare at him.
Well, I suppose that’s fair. I’m not used to secrets in my culture and my community, but in spite of his fluent ASL, it’s obvious he’s not part of it. And everyone is entitled to their own business, even if it kills me because I want to know every single thing about him.
I take a breath, then slide half a step away from him, and his frown deepens as he watches. His eyes flick down to my hands, rising up as I lift them to say, ‘You left me. Ass out. Waiting. You didn’t come back.’
‘I know.’
My jaw clenches. ‘Why?’
He tilts his head slightly. ‘I had good reason.’
I purse my lips, and his eyes flick down to them. The air thickens. I feel that heat well up inside of me. It isn’t anger at all. It’s lust. Pure, unrestrained, impossible to mistake.
‘Reason?’ I ask, my brows lowered. ‘Another secret?’
He takes a step closer, his chest nearly brushing mine. Oh, fuck. ‘Cat,’ he says and then adds, ‘Sick.’
My eyes widen. ‘The one you caught?’
He nods, and my shoulders slump.
‘They okay?’
He shrugs. ‘Maybe. See-see.’
Shit, that’s not good. I reach out and graze my fingers against Arhe’s sternum, my hand then landing flat on his chest. His body trembles at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away. He turns his head down, tipping it to the side like he’s basking in the feeling of my hand on him.
It’s then that I notice he has earplugs that look a lot like hearing aid molds in his ears. They’re very thick and probably block out most, if not all, sound.
‘Loud?’ I ask, and he nods as his gaze flickers back to mine.
‘Don’t like loud. Hurts.’ He grimaces with the sign.
My hand slips away from him, but he reaches out, hesitates a moment, and then pulls my palm back to his chest. His heart beats steadily under my hand, but the air between us is anything but that.
It’s thick, hot. Unbreathable.
Nearly unbearable.
I inhale deeply, my lungs expanding, and then his fingers curl into mine, and he tugs me forward. We’re centimeters apart. His breath ghosts over my lips, and his chest trembles against mine with his heavy exhale.
One of his hands threads into my hair and tugs gently, forcing my head back, exposing my neck. His nose runs along my collarbone, inhaling me. And then I feel the scrape of his teeth against my Adam’s apple.
I let out a soft moan, and his hand clenches around mine. He still hasn’t let go.
I don’t think I want him to. My resolve not to bend over for the man who left me vulnerable and alone in the cemetery has crumbled to dust at a single touch.
There’s something about him I can’t resist, and I find myself pushing into his grasp, tilting my head more so he can taste the sweat on my neck.
His teeth sink deeper into my throat, almost like he’s trying to consume me, and pain erupts under my skin.
He must hear the small sound I make in protest, and he releases his bite. He doesn’t let me move though. His hand stays tight in my hair, keeping my neck vulnerable to him, and his eyes aren’t on mine. They’re locked on my neck, where he must have left a mark, and he looks hungry.
Then he leans down, and his tongue is there, laving against the bite, making my entire body shiver.
Fuck, I don’t know why I like that so much.
He moves up my neck to my chin and cheek, and his warm breath hits my skin until he’s hovering right over my ear. His teeth scrape against the lobe, and as he bites down, a rough gasp escapes me.
He pulls back and loosens his hand in my hair, allowing my eyes to meet his. The black of his pupils consumes almost all of his irises, and I’m sure mine are the same.
His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips, and then he reaches up and brushes a thumb across my mouth.
Everything about this is erotic.
I’ve never been touched like this. I’ve never looked up into a man’s eyes to see such raw need, such raw hunger, directed at me. Like I mean something. Like I’m special and wanted.
No. Not wanted.
Needed. Craved.
I let out a shaky breath as he pulls the collar of my loose-necked shirt to the side, exposing more of my shoulder. Then he pulls it all the way off my arm and runs his nail over my puckered nipple.
I bite back a moan as he pinches it between his fingers, rolling it, playing with it. He watches his own hands, and then his dark gaze flicks up to mine before his body sags and he sinks to his knees.
My breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh as he drags my silk shorts down my legs, exposing the purple thong I’m wearing.
His lashes flutter, and his tongue runs over his lower lip. He looks now the way he did back at the cemetery—starved for me—and the feeling is heady. It rushes to my head with the sensation of power over him that I don’t quite know what to do with.
My hands flutter, uncertain where to touch. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who wants to be held and confined, so I reach behind me and grab onto the metal shelving for leverage.
My cock is ridiculously hard and starting to leak from the tip.
I know I wasn’t supposed to let this happen.
I was supposed to make sure he understood that what he did was fucked-up.
That if this—whatever the hell it is—is going to be something between us, even just a casual fuck, he can’t treat me like I’m trash.
But then he leans in and runs his nose up my achingly hard shaft, and I feel the vibration of his moan, and all of that goes out the window entirely.
I want him, and I don’t care what I have to do as long as he puts his mouth on me.
He moves his hand between my legs and cups my balls in his palm, rolling them gently with his fingers. They ache with fullness, and all I can think about is my need to come. I haven’t gotten off since the cemetery. I spent so long worked up with no relief.
So right now, oh god, the sensation of him touching me makes me nearly melt into the floor. I haven’t felt this turned on in a long time, and I’m not sure what to do with this feeling besides beg, and I’m not quite there.
Not yet. But if he doesn’t do something soon, I probably will be.
He peels the silky fabric of my panties down, my cock exposed inch by inch until the fabric is stretched around my trembling thighs. His breath hits my sensitive skin, and my hands jerk against the metal bars behind me.
A roll of toilet paper tips off the top shelf and hits him on the head, breaking him out of his spell. He glances down at it and then up at me.
My eyes widen, horrified, terrified he might get up.
But then his lips twitch, and without warning, he grabs onto the base of my cock and sucks me into his mouth.
I let out a chest-deep shout of pleasure as he takes me all the way to the back of his throat.
It’s rough and hard and sweet fuck, I can feel his teeth, but I don’t stop him. I like it.
I want more.
I want it rough and feral and wild. I want it different from every person who ever touched me before because Arhe is different.
I want to know every second that it’s him and to know that no other person will ever come close to the man who saved me, abandoned me, and is now sucking my soul out through my dick in a tiny storage closet.
And somewhere in the back of my lust-hazy brain, I know that’s unhinged and unrealistic, but I don’t care. I’m not a man who believes in fate, but that resolve is being tested as his teeth gently scrape along my shaft before he tucks his lips around them and begins to suck me in earnest.
He moves his hands up to cup my bare ass, and his calloused fingers dig into my skin, squeezing my globes roughly. I bark out another shout as he chokes around me and pray to god that anyone with any residual hearing isn’t anywhere near this closet.
Forcing my eyes open, I stare down at him, and he seems lost in his task. He’s sucking me like it’s his only purpose in life, his eyes closed, bliss on his face like he’s savoring this. Like I’m something worth having.
And it’s that look that sends sparks up my spine, knowing he wants this as much as I do, and I can tell I’m not going to last long. Just a few more rolls of his tongue, and I’m going to shoot over the edge.
Then suddenly, his eyes open, and they lock on mine. My breath is trapped in my chest as he hollows out his cheeks and then pulls almost all the way off. My cock is wet and exposed as he drags his lips over the tip, swirling his tongue around the slit before sucking it back in again.
And then he does it again.
And again.