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 sureIwant a repeat.
I feel my cock continue to thicken in my shorts.
Well, okay, maybe I want a little one. A nice little taste.
Anibble, 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 thisdistracted, 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 asswhile 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 quiethuh. 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 hotquickly. 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.
