Staring at the ceiling, the questions ran through my head. Okay, maybe she was just scared of guns. Lots of people were. But where did she get that shiner on her eyebrow? And the bruise on her arm? Why did she dye her hair? Why did she have so much cash in her wallet? Who was she really? What was she running to, or better yet from?
Truth was, she and I were two fucked up, broken people that would probably do nothing but drag one another down. Getting closer to her would be asking for nothing but trouble. It was stupid to have kissed her.
So, I got out of bed and did the sensible thing. I pulled her car out of the ditch, then checked the roads. With my 4WD I could probably make it, but I knew there was no damn way that dinky little Chevy of hers could make the pass. Soon enough though, she’d be able to.
But goddamn…that kiss. I couldn’t let go of that kiss.
Back in my house, task finished and still clueless, I hopped into the shower, replaying it in my mind. The feel of her plump bottom lip as I suckled on it. That satisfied hum vibrating from her throat as my hand rested on the back of her neck. The fresh, clean scent of her hair, and how soft it felt threaded between my fingertips.
That one kiss was driving me absolutely insane. My cock stirred to life and I reached down, stroking it as the hot water pelted my body. I imagined what her tiny, little body would feel like next to mine. My lips showering kisses on every inch of her skin—showing her the pleasure that she deserved. The tenderness that, I feared, whomever she was with before me didn’t.
I imagined her soft, pouty lips wrapped around my dick, balls-deep in her throat, looking up at me with those hooded, amber eyes. Those nails of hers digging into the flesh of my ass. The hum of her moans as they vibrated against my cock.
I braced myself against my tile wall with one hand, and the other on my cock, yanking out my sexual frustration one stroke at a time until at last I finally came.
Maybe the kiss was a mistake, but I couldn’t let it go. She’d crawled her way underneath my jagged scars and gotten under my skin.
So, when I got out of the shower, I did something equally as stupid as kissing her. I texted her and asked her to come over for breakfast.
It was quite possible that I was making yet another mistake, but honestly, I didn’t give a flying fuck. I wanted, no I needed to see her again.
G was quite the eater for a tiny, little thing.
Not that I was judging that. I actually loved how cute she was as she unashamedly stuffed her face with a second helping of French toast.
When the meal was over, I tried to get her to sit and let me clean up, but she was having none of it. She smiled and gave me a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it look. So, I got a little playful and twisted up the dish towel. Grinning, I took the towel and tried to shoo her out of the kitchen with a flick in her direction. Her grin got wider, and flirtier, so I knew I didn’t take it too far, and I went again. I had wicked good aim and knew just how far to tease her without actually landing. Because I would never, ever dare put one mark on that pretty, olive skin of hers.
Snapping the dish towel a third time, she giggled and squealed, running around the kitchen island as I toyed with her, trying to chase her out of the kitchen. Archie followed along behind her, just as excited, wagging his tail. Her smile was crooked and wide, and I bet her laugh sounded as fantastic as it looked. I knew it had to be loud by the way her mouth fell open and her head would rock back to the sky.
I never really got sad that I was Deaf, but in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hear her laugh. But watching it was just as fucking epic.
I slung the towel over my shoulder, leaning my arms on the granite counter, just mesmerized with her laughter. I sensed that it was as rare of a thing for her as it was for me. Yet here we both were, laughing like fools with one another.
And once again hope bloomed in my chest that we could tear down our walls with one another brick by brick.
She stopped running and cocked her head to the side, catching her breath. “What?” she asked.
I just smiled and shook my head. You. That’s what. She brought joy to me, and until that moment, I’d never realized just how damn much I missed that feeling. The more I was around her, the more my guilt for having those feelings waned.
As much as I hated to say it, my sister had been right. I needed to put myself out there again and have a life. It had been three long years, and I’d tortured myself enough.
I rolled up my sleeves, flipped on the water, and began scrubbing. She walked around the counter, yanked the towel off my shoulder and settled in next to me. I washed, she dried.
After we finished cleaning the kitchen, I could see her glancing at the door, a bit wary, wondering if she should leave, but also kinda like she didn’t want to. So, to help make her decision easy, I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the living room.
I opened up the cabinet on the bottom bookshelf that housed all my games and playing cards, the items collecting dust. The last time they’d been used had been well over two years ago, my first Christmas after Alex died, when Brock, Tyler and my parents came to visit. I didn’t feel much like celebrating that year. I’d refused to leave my home. Much to my dismay, they all showed up on my doorstep Christmas Eve bearing presents. Looking back, I’d decided that I was glad they came.
Perusing my options, I realized other than chess, most of the games were multiplayer. I wasn’t sure if she knew how to play that. So, I opted for one of the decks of cards and held it up to her, raising my brow.
“Cards?” she asked.
I gave her a why not shrug and sat down in front of my ottoman.
“I don’t know many card games.” She shook her head as she sat crisscross on the other side. “What are you thinking?”
“Strip poker,” I said deadpan as I shuffled the cards with one hand like a pro, still signing with my other. Her eyes widened and she swallowed. I couldn’t keep my straight face long. I busted a gut laughing. “Kidding.” I gave her a lopsided grin with a wink, finishing off the shuffle with a waterfall flourish for an added flair.
She rolled her eyes, let out a heavy breath, and chuckled. “I…” she tugged on her lip “… know Go Fish.”
Alright. Go Fish it would be. I bobbed my head then dealt the cards.
Her mouth puckered into a cute little O shape. “These have signs on them.”
I gave her a toothless smile and another nod. Yeah, they were ASL playing cards. Showed each sign on the card for the respective number.
I pointed to her, telling her to go first.
She fanned her cards out, holding them up in front of her nose, peering at me with her sexy as hell come-fuck-me eyes and I just about busted a nut. God damn, she was killing me. She had no clue how hot that one innocent look was.
She lowered her deck. “Do you have any…” She held up two fingers.
I shook my head, pointed to her, and signed, “Go fish.”
She understood. Pulling from the deck, she smiled, swaying her cute little shoulders, then put down her pair of twos. I jutted my chin to her, letting her know she could go again. But she missed her next turn and I got a shot.
I made the sign for eight by putting my middle finger down against my thumb. She scrutinized her cards, trying to figure out what number that was, and quickly passed over all her eights.
We sat there for the next hour, playing Go Fish like a couple of kids, only breaking once for her to go to the restroom. G kicked my ass the first two rounds, but I got her on the third. By the end of it all she knew all the signs for the numbers and how to sign go fish.