“How often do you play at home?”
“Probably every day.”
“Why don’t I know this about you?”
“Because we never shared those pieces of ourselves,” he said softly. “I hope that’s changing.”
“You know,” she said, sitting up suddenly, “I agree, and I’m glad Scott turned out to be a jerk.”
“I’m really sorry how he treated you,” Ryker said with a sigh.
“Why? Him leaving opened the door for you.”
“As the rebound guy,” he said with a twist of his lips. “I hope you realize that’s not what I intend on becoming.”
“What do you see yourself becoming?”What kind of a future did he envision?
“I see days turning to weeks with you curled up to my side every morning. Weeks turning to months. I see lots of hot and heavy sex.”
“How heavy?” Whenever he talked sex, she ached for him in the best possible way. She squeezed her thighs together against needy pulsations.
He snorted. “As heavy as you want, but it might be a bit soon to be talking about our kinks.”
“You have kinks?”
Of course Ryker had kinks. As soon as he found out how incredibly boring she was, he’d probably leave.
“Everyone has kinks,” he said.
“That’s a non-answer,” she countered.
“That’s because we have company and probably shouldn’t be discussing ropes, blindfolds, cuffs, and crops.”
His words sent her heart racing. Two reasons. First, he was a lot kinkier than she’d imagined. That turned her on rather than turned her off. Sex with Ryker could become something wickedly delicious and fun. The second reason her pulse spiked came in the form of five men crossing the hangar. Sex on a stick, the men of Angel Fire were beyond gorgeous.
A quick glance at Ryker, and she realized how seamlessly he fit in with the band. Put him in worn jeans and a T-shirt, and it would be impossible to say he didn’t belong right beside them. Ash, Bash, Spike, Noodles, and the ever-imposing Forest closed the distance with their long strides.
“Whatcha doing?” Forest called out.
Ryker stood. “Just goofing around. Smiley said it was okay. I hope I haven’t overstepped.”
Ash placed his palm down on the stage and vaulted up. The others followed suit.
“How’s Bent?” she asked.
He’d been taken for X-rays after their arrival, and she hadn’t seen him since. She assumed he had gone to the operating room for stabilization of his injury.
Ash’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Compound fracture. He’s out of surgery but fucked up.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. She stood and dusted off her backside, moving out of the way. “What did Drummond say about his recovery?” A broken arm could be disastrous for a guitar player.
Bash kicked an electrical cord snaking its way across the stage. “He needs pins or some shit like that. But the doc said he should do well.”
“He’s going to need physical therapy,” Forest added. “Skye is talking with them now.”
“Good,” she said. “It’s good you have a doctor with you. I’m sure she’s asking all the right questions. I guess this means you’ll be packing everything up and cutting the tour short?”
They couldn’t possibly continue the tour. After the surgeons stabilized Bent, he’d need to be moved out of theater and back to a hospital in the States where he could continue his recovery. And Forest was right. He would need a really good physical therapist. She didn’t want to bring up potential nerve damage or what that break might mean for his future but sensed that thought had already crossed everyone’s mind.
