Page 190 of Delicious

I want him to crave it.

I want him to craveme.

‘Wow.’ His hand shakes loose in front of his chest, his eyes wide. He’s not faking it. There are very few people in the world talented enough to lie to me with their expression. Everyone has tells, but none of his are going off. ‘This is the best thing I have ever eaten.’

Okay, that’s probably a lie, but in the moment, I think he believes it. My head swells a little, and I bite my lip. I can see his half-hard dick twitch in his pants again. He probably thinks it’s not obvious, but it is.

I will have to make sure it’s taken care of before I send him back to work. The last thing he or Robbie needs is a fired terp because of lewd behavior. Though I’m not sure fucking in my food truck in the school parking lot is the best idea. Honestly, it could be a health code violation.

‘Thank you,’ he adds.

I realize all I’ve done is stare, and I brush my hands off on my shirt before answering him. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

‘Does this make us even?’

Fuuuuuck. ‘Youdidsave my life. I’m not sure a burger can make up for that.’

His cheeks pinken, and he glances away for a beat before he looks back, half-panicked. It’s the same thing all hearing people who sign do. They were taught once that not keeping eye contact with a Deaf person is considered the rudest thing you can do in conversation, and they always take it to the most literal extreme.

He’s not staring into my eyes like a crazed serial killer like some do though, which is a plus. But I do wish he’d relax. I wish we were somewhere I couldmakehim relax. Fucking him would definitely get the truck rocking, and I can’t afford that on my record, but maybe a little foreplay…

‘What did you have in mind?’

I almost choke on my tongue. That was forward, and I want more of it. I set aside my untouched food, and he mirrors me. With one hand, I close the truck door, and with the other, I brace myself on the floor beside his ass. His legs are under me now, and mine are stretched far enough to make my over-worked thighs ache.

But I barely feel it. Not with the way he’s looking at me. His hunger goes deep, and his hands are trembling in his lap.

I glance down, and he’s fully hard now. By the size of his tent, I think I’m going to like what’s behind his zipper. Looking back into his eyes, I lift one hand. ‘Yes?’

He nods.

I don’t know if I should kiss him. That seems very intimate, and I have no idea what this is—or what it could become. He’s breaking all my rules, but they suddenly seem so damn arbitrary and pointless. Have I been missing out on something good all because I had this idea of what love was meant to be like for me?

Whoa, wait. No. Hold on. This is not love. This isn’t even close. This is some guy—some hearing, nerdy academic who, granted, is fluent in my language with only a little bit of an accent, but still—in my food truck after saving me from the big, bad wasp.

I am panicking.

Rhett seems to notice, thank God, because he doesn’t hesitate the way I did. His trembling fingers lift and curl around my jaw. He holds my gaze for another second more, and then his eyes close and he guides me into a kiss.

It’s…not good. It’s not bad, but it’s awkward as fuck. Neither one of us can seem to find each other’s rhythm. We’re out of sync. I open my mouth when he closes his. I try to give him my tongue when he tries to give me his. We fumble like we’re fighting, but amidst that chaos, something shifts.

It changes.

It’s like the world takes a sighing pause, and then suddenly, everything makes sense. I slot my chest against his, lowering my ass to his thighs. His hands move from my face to my hips, and he drags me closer, encouraging me to rock against him. His lips part, and he offers me his tongue to taste.

And God, he tastes like my food. My spices. My spit.

Mine, mine, mine.

The word chants like a pulse under my skin, and I deepen the kiss, grabbing his hair and shoving his head back so I can devour him. I feel him groan against me, and I catch the sound in my mouth, swallowing it down.

This is dangerous. We’re out of our minds with want, and I can’t hear if I’m being too loud—and I know I am. I’m not the most experienced, but I’ve done enough to warrant complaints from people who can hear.

The campus isn’t busy, but there are still people around, and fuck.

I pull back with a gasp, and he stares at me, half-betrayed, half-dazed. ‘What’s wrong?’ His hand misses his chin before he corrects himself.

‘Students.’

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