I watch as he grabs my towel from the bench and wraps it around him, grabbing his clothes and shoes and walking out.
He leaves me drained, sopping wet, half-satisfied, and utterly confused.
CHAPTER THREE
DEX
It takesme way too long to move my brain from my dick back into my head and decide not to let him go so easily, but eventually, I manage to squeeze my wet skin into dry clothes fast enough to rush after Rome. I catch sight of him just as he’s passing through the front doors, and I burst into the main gym, running so fast I nearly brain myself coming around the row of ellipticals.
I become very aware that I have no shoes as the parking lot asphalt cuts into my bare feet, but I don’t stop as I try to close the distance between us.
“Rome! Wait—” I call like a jackass because of course he can’t fucking hear me.
But he does stop and turns toward me with a glower. It takes me a second to remember that Deaf is a spectrum. I’ve never asked how much Rome can hear because he’s made it clear that’s none of my business, but definitely, he heard me shouting his name.
He’s flushed, breathing heavily, one arm holdinghis gym bag, the other brushing rough fingers through his shower-wet, uncombed hair.
Fuck, why does he have to look so good? His brows lift, and he jerks his chin a little as if to say, ‘What the fuck do you want?’
I appreciate that through Denver’s ASL class, I’m learning to read body language better than I ever have. I come to a halt, wincing as I step on a big piece of rock and shift to my other foot as I fumble in my pocket for my phone.
Rome huffs and rolls his eyes but gestures for me to go on.
Me: Your number?
He blinks at me, then signs an angry ‘Why?’
I learned that one in my first lesson. But for some reason, I’m still jittery every time I communicate with a Deaf person, so I don’t try to answer back in sign.
Me: I want to give you my address.
‘Why?’ he repeats.
Do I really have to spell it out for him? I give him a pointed look, and after a beat, he scoffs but rips the phone out of my hand and types on it for way too long. I see a very faint flashing in the pocket of his gym shorts, which tells me he’s sent himself a text, and my heart does a little flip.
This is so unlike me. Even with women, I take a hundred years to build up the courage to do this. My ex and I danced around each other for months before I asked her on a date, but with Rome, it’s different. I’m not going to say it’s easy because it sure as fuck isn’t, but he’s the kind of person who knows what he wants, and maybe that’s who I need in my life.
When he commandeered my rideshare the night after the club, that was the moment I knew working for it was going to pay off.
And so far, as frustrating as he is, it has been.
He slaps the phone back into my hand, and I take a step back, scrolling to the contact he put in. It’s just the letterRin the name, but that’s fine. This will be ingrained in my mind for all eternity.
Then I see the text he sent himself.
Me: dickhead himbo from the gym
I wonder if that’s how he’ll save my name.Dickhead Himbo From The Gym.
I can’t bring myself to care. I just want to know he’s willing to try something with me. I want him to be able to contact me whenever he has the urge to sink to his knees again.
When I look up, he’s halfway across the parking lot again, and this time, I don’t call after him. Instead, I turn and head inside, rushing straight to my office before anyone can stop me.
I’m still reeling from what we did in the shower, and I don’t think I can handle conversation right now. I can still feel his hands on me, his mouth around my dick. I can still see the light glinting off his piercings and the way he looked when he stroked himself into oblivion.
Sitting at my desk, I stare at my phone for another beat, then finally pick it up. I’m done being cautious. I can admit to myself now that Rome isn’t the first guy I’ve been curious about, but it means something that he’s the first guy I’ve been brave enough to touch.
And fuck, I want to do so much more touching.
