Page 29 of Kiss-Fist (Deaf Hearts #1)

But after a while, he shifts and looks down at me, his gaze slightly hazy. Fucked out of his mind is probably more like it.

‘You have name sign?’ he asks me, and I blink up at him, my brain a little slower than normal. ‘Did Denver give you one?’

I frown. He hadn’t. Was he supposed to? I didn’t think we knew each other well enough for that. ‘No. Is that bad?’

He wets his lips and then eyes me, shaking his head. ‘No. I’ll give you one.’

That makes my chest constrict. I know about name signs. Learned about them from Leaf and again from my ASL teacher, Denver. They’re given to people in the community by Deaf individuals. Usually, they’re something that represents who they are as a person, what characteristics stick out about them.

I know this is special. It’s important. It’s a privilege I’m going to assume Robbie hasn’t given to a lot of hearing people before.

The weight of his gaze on me is heavy and intense.

It’s almost too much, but it’s also impossible to look away from him.

He leans in, lifts his hand to my face, and traces my jaw with the tips of two fingers.

He follows a line toward my chin, then traces around my mouth like he’s learning me by touch.

His fingers press down a little harder and coast over the front of my throat. He pauses, and I swallow. His brows lift, so I groan a little.

I’m rewarded by his smile. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.

His head tilts to the side as he moves his fingers to my temple and brushes them against it.

‘Do you know smart?’ he signs.

I frown before I realize he’s asking me if I understand the sign for it. I nod my fist. ‘Yes.’ It was in one of Denver’s first lessons when he was showing us the signs for class and study and learning.

He points at me, then signs, ‘Smart.’

I want to argue. In some ways, I am, but in other ways, I never will be.

It’s like there’s a giant wall between me and the ability to learn some of the things I want to learn.

Like written language is a code I will never be able to crack.

Usually I’m at peace with it, but being around Robbie is… intimidating.

He’s like a literal genius.

He sighs and shakes his head, then makes a T and taps it on the side of his forehead—near his temple, but not quite on it.

It takes me a second to realize that it’s for me. My name. I point to myself, and he nods.

‘What does it mean?’

‘Male,’ he signs, then indicates the space above his nose. Denver taught us this too. Male, female, and neutral placement for gendered things. Then, he shrugs again as if to say, ‘And.’

I wait.

He points at me again. ‘You’re smart.’ He signs something else, but I don’t have enough vocabulary to understand.

The look on his face seems like he’s daring me to argue with him.

It’s tempting. It tends to end well once we’ve worked it all out, and my dick gives a feeble attempt to get interested, but I’m more than spent.

Instead, I copy the sign, and he smiles softly, nodding.

‘You like?’

He cocks his head, and I nod. Then he bites his bottom lip.

‘Or your name sign could be…’ He taps the side of his mouth, right where my dimple would be.

I repeat it, and he grins.

‘Yes. I like both.’

I do too.

He leans down and kisses me before retreating and signing, ‘My Thom.’

My heart skips a beat. ‘My—’ I stop. I realize I don’t actually know what name sign I should use for him. I’ve seen the one he gave me at the gym, but his friends use a different one. ‘What’s yours?’

He sighs and looks a little annoyed, which is interesting. ‘I have a few, same as you.’ He makes an R with his hand and taps it over his heart. ‘Mom and Dad.’ His name from his mom and dad. He makes another sign I don’t recognize before adding, ‘My sister and her kids.’

I nod .

He does another short series of signs—something with two fingers up and thumb tapped against his forehead. It’s…different.

‘What does that mean?’ He shakes his head quickly, and I lift a brow. There’s a story there. I lunge at him and pin him to the bed. ‘Tell me.’

He grins and signs something too fast for me to follow, then bursts into laughter at the outrage on my face. I kiss him hard, a little meanly, then push away and grope for his laptop.

‘Interpreter,’ I start and attempt to get the lid open, but he rolls me and pins me with a strength that’s surprising—but also kind of hot.

He grins down at me. “No,” he says aloud.

My dick kicks.

He looks down and smiles again. “Kiss me.”

Dear god, sign or speech, it doesn’t matter. I will do literally anything he asks.

Twenty minutes later and I’ve forgotten what we were wrestling about entirely. My libido is interested but exhausted, and while Robbie has zero problems flirting and playing with me, his soft cock tells me that he’s also spent, probably emotionally as well as physically.

We make out like horny teenagers for a while instead before he flops back and watches me as my second med starts to wear off and the twitches begin. I’ve been in fairly decent control of my ADHD for years, but the evening always has me a little restless.

‘You okay if I—’ I have no idea how to sign it, so I mime doing sit-ups .

He gives me a go-ahead gesture, then rolls onto his stomach and props his chin up on his hands, grinning as I drop down. I like this. I like being watched by him. I ruck up my shirt, then start to curl, flexing every muscle I can as I work my core.

I can see his face going a little pink, his lips parted, pupils wider than usual.

I wink at him as I flip over and begin a series of push-ups. I hear a soft groan as I lift—up and down, up and down—trying to clear away some of the energy fizzing through my veins.

My biceps begin to burn, and I push through it a bit longer before dropping down into a plank. I hold that for a while, until my abs begin to twitch, and then I hop up and turn away from him so I can sink into squats.

The moan is louder this time, kind of a low, needy rumble. I back up as I continue to drop and rise, and eventually, I feel two warm palms over the globes of my ass.

After the fourth set, I pause in chair pose, then turn my head. ‘You like?’

His ears are dusky rose with his blush, and he nods before bringing his fist to his mouth and kissing it slightly. I know the sign. It means he really, really loves it. ‘Fist-kiss your ass.’

I burst into laughter, falling on my backside from the force of it, and he slides off the bed and straddles me, pinning my wrists to the floor. From the look on his face, I know he knows I could flip him at any second. But I like this. I’m obsessed with the feeling of his weight on me .

He leans in and takes my mouth in a long, lush kiss, then eases back and whispers, “Shower with me.”

I don’t know why he’s speaking so much. Maybe it’s a concession. Maybe it’s because he knows—at least I hope he knows—I will never ever ask for his voice. I will never demand it. Never expect it.

Maybe he knows that everything about him turns me on to the point of zero reason.

Whatever the case, today has been both the worst and best of my life, and I’m not going to squander a moment of it. I have no idea how long he’s going to want this. When will he ask me to leave so he can have his space back?

I hope not until tomorrow at least. I want to stay. To live in his presence. To just…be with him.

He drags me into the bathroom, and we’re both a little harder now as we strip down, and he turns on the water. It chokes and spits before coming out in a steady stream, the little tub barely big enough for both of us.

I step in first, then offer him a hand and shove him under the spray. I don’t mind the cold. Not when I can lather bubbles between my hands and run them all over his body.

He groans again, and I feel drunk on the sound as I press him to the wall and begin to stroke him. I don’t think we’re working to a conclusion. I don’t think we have a goal. Just being able to bask—to simmer—in this emotional ecstasy is enough.

And he returns the favor once he’s rinsed off.

It’s heaven to be touched by him. I feel like I’m melting as he strokes those impossibly talented fingers over my sensitive skin.

I kiss him as he helps me rinse my hair, and that lasts for a long, long while.

I rock my cock against him, and he moves with me until we’re both a little breathless and the exhaustion is impossible to ignore.

It’s getting late. I need to eat and sleep soon, but I also don’t have my car, which means wasting money on a rideshare or calling Dex.

As I shrug back into the clothes Robbie had given me, I steal a glance at him, and I find him dressed and watching me with that intense look back on his face. He seems…nervous?

No. He can’t be.

Is he?

The moment I tug my shirt down, he seems to unfreeze, crossing the room and putting his hands on my hips. His shoulders are tense as he digs short, blunt nails into my waist.

‘Tell me,’ I say. There’s something on his mind.

He lifts his gaze to mine, and our eyes lock. Then he lifts his hands and mouths along like he doesn’t want me to miss what he’s saying. ‘Stay.’

I swallow thickly.

‘With me. Stay. Tonight. Please.’

I yank him close and kiss him. I can’t believe he was afraid I was going to say no.