TWENTY-THREE
Rebound
TIA
Tia leaned back.Placing her hands behind her on the stage, she didn’t mind a little bit of dirt. She stretched her legs out, crossed her ankles, and tilted her head to stare at the hangar roof. While she made herself comfortable, Ryker tuned the guitar.
It wasn’t music, not in the strict sense of the word, but the soulful sound resonated deep within her chest. The way it started off was discordant, and then, with tiny tweaks, it became perfect, blowing her away. Not that she would know what perfect was, except it sounded good.
“I like the way it feels,” she said.
“The music or something else?” he asked.
That was a good question. She meant the music but loved their easy banter. Things hadn’t really changed since they had sex, except that they had. The easy familiarity between them remained, but it was deeper now. When she was with him, a desire curled in her belly. It promised something more, a physical release she desperately craved after the events of the day.
They were exploring new ground. Opening themselves up in ways they’d never done before. She shared more of herself, tiny pieces she normally kept private, and he was doing the same. Casual, when it came to sex, wasn’t a part of her vocabulary. She was either committed or not.
Instead of telling him all of that, she thumped her chest. “In here. I feel the vibrations rumbling through my chest. It’s kind of cool.”
“Just wait.” He rolled his shoulders back. “I need to warm up. Do you have any favorites?”
His desert fatigues cupped his groin, and she couldn’t help but linger on the fullness behind the buttons of his fly. Those strong legs of his promised sinful pleasure, and she craved more of what they’d started the night before.
She arched a brow. “I have lots of favorites, but I have no idea who plays them, and don’t you dare ask me to sing one or try to hum a tune. I’m musically illiterate and tone deaf, and even the cats screech when I try to sing.”
“That bad?” He gave her a wink, a heart-stopping, belly-fluttering thing. He devastated her with the slightest expression.
“Worse,” she admitted. “You have all the talent. What do you want to play?”
“Nothing really comes to mind.” But he hit into the opening chords of “The Sound of Silence.” It had recently been covered by Disturbed, breathing new life into the classic Simon & Garfunkel masterpiece.
She recognized that song and was hard-pressed to say which version she preferred. With Ryker on the guitar, she bent her elbows and leaned further back. Soon, she would be flat on her back, fast headed to the silence of dreams. Exhaustion pulled at her as her body relaxed, and her mind followed.Had this been his intent in bringing her here?
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“I do,” she said with a nod. “Which version do you prefer?”
“I thought you said you didn’t recognize tunes.”
“Well, that one is iconic.”
“Okay, let’s test your knowledge.”
“Oh Lord, you don’t want to do that.”
“Here’s one. The bass is subtle but powerful in its presence.” He played for a bit, and it sounded familiar.
“Tip of my tongue, but no go.”
“That was Midnight Oil,” he said, looking surprised. “Try this one.”
His fingers traveled over the neck of the guitar, fascinating her with his skill, but she still couldn’t figure out the track, even though it too sounded familiar.
“I’ve got nothing.”
“Oh, come on. ‘Magic Man’ by Heart? It was their breakout hit.”
She shook her head.
