Page 10 of Kiss-Fist
He looks over his shoulder and says something, and the moment shatters.
I really think the lack of oxygen to my brain did something to me. I’m full-on fantasizing about this guy now.
It’s that, or illegal substances reallyarebeing pumped through the vents. I could believe either at this point.
But the reality is, no matter how much my dick wants, nothing can happen. I don’t date hearing people, and I don’t hook up with them if I can help it. I’m a teacher. I have to deal with college kids all damn day. I don’t want to go home and teach my partner.
And I don’t want to give myself to someone like that only for things to most likely not work out. Deaf and hearing relationships usually fall apart for a reason.
And while there are the exceptions, like my sister, I doubt with my luck that I’d be one. No, Nipple Dimple Thom and I can never be more than spank-bank fantasy that I intend to use the moment I have full use of my arms again.
I sigh and take another swig of water, dribbling some down my chin.
Seems I’ve lost the ability to swallow too. How sad. That was a very good skill set to have.
Swiping at the wetness, I mentally chastise myself. I’m not going to fantasize about this man anymore. Then Thom bends over, tying his shoe, his ass on full display. Between one blink and the next, I’m fantasizing about sticking my face right between those hard globes.
Damn it!
I lasted a millisecond.
He stands up and turns toward me, and I tell myself that I’ll be startingnow.It’s just hard to focus when someone is this good-looking. I’m not used to it. Maybe this is why I’ve avoided the gym all these years. Not only is exercising a deterrent, but the hot men are intimidating.
But before I can work myself into major anxiety, he stops and points to his chest. ‘Thom.’
I mean, I knew that already, but I realize he’s showing off his fingerspelling skills. I cock my head as he does it again. He spells it accurately this time too. So I return the gesture.
‘Robbie.’
I have to spell and mouth it several times before he gets it. But something swells in me when he does.
I like that he understands me, so I offer him my sign name—the one I use at school, not the jackass one my brothers gave me—and he repeats it. I give him the Deaf applause, hands waving in the air.
He grins widely, showing me those damn dimples again.
My happiness fades when Thom points to the dumbbells sitting in a nice row before me. Fuck. I want to whimper and plead to die. But I hold the dramatics back as he hands me two very small weights.
I stare at them, blushing when I see that they’re only four pounds.
He must really think I’m a weakling.
I mean, to be fair, I am. The seven minutes of hell on that running machine was pretty telling.
As soon as they’re in my grip, my shaking arms fall to my sides. My elbows crack, and I feel a blush spread through mycheeks. This is deplorable. I need my arms and hands to sign, to communicate. If I work out too hard, I won’t be able to lift them. Rhett will never let me live it down.
Thom mimes lifting them, and I stagger to my feet and try to follow his lead. He touches me far too much, correcting me without using words. And I’m so flustered that I don’t even notice the bulge in the front of my pants.
Seems my dick didn’t fall off after all.
Shame.
Honestly, at this rate, you’d think all the blood would currently be in my arms with the weight I’m lifting, but it seems I have an extra supply of it just for my dick.
Thom is standing right in front of me now, both of his strong hands on my arms, his veins popping out, helping me lift them above my head. I’m panting, sweat rolling down my temples, and all I can think of, all I can feel, are his hands on me.
Why is this so hard?
Why amIso hard?
