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I put our drinks down, take a seat, and wait for her to return. She comes out of her bedroom with her phone and hooks it up to a speaker system.
Over her shoulder, she says, “I listen to music all the time, but especially on Sundays. Today, I'm in the mood for my Back in the Day playlist, if that's okay?”
“Sure.”
I wonder what songs she would classify as “back in the day.” The very first song is Stevie Wonder's “Superstition”. Okay, I wasn't expecting that, especially for someone her age. The music plays as a soft background noise. Ryan comes to sit down with me, and we start to eat.
“What are the other men in your family like? You said that y'all get together every month to go shooting, right?”
“Yeah. We're simply a bunch of very competitive men with too much testosterone. I mean, it is a group of men shooting guns, talking smack, and throwing in a dirty joke every now and then.”
Ryan laughs lightly. “That actually sounds really fun. With the things that come out of my mouth, it's easier to be around guys than girls sometimes.”
“Build Me Up Buttercup” comes on, and I'm continuously surprised by what music is on her phone. “We're getting together this upcoming weekend. We can still get a private lesson in first. If you wanted to go, that is.”
Ryan watches me while we eat silently. She's quiet for so long that Elvis' “Jailhouse Rock” starts playing before she answers. “Okay, sure. But even if I have fun when I'm with you, I don't kno
w if I want to participate with your family.”
“Fair enough. I think you'll like it though.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Kind of hard not to enjoy it. You'll see.”
Tina Turner starts singing some song I've never heard about the rain. When we finish eating, we put our plates in the dishwasher, and I excuse myself to the restroom, taking the opportunity to brush my teeth as well. I step out and hear The Temptations. Faintly, I hear Ryan singing “My Girl” as well. She has a pretty voice, but once she hears me coming, she stops.
“You didn't have to quit,” I whisper in her ear when I come up behind her, grabbing her hips.
She giggles. “I didn't think you heard me.”
“I did. You're good.”
“Helps when I've taken singing lessons before. I'll be right back.”
She disappears down the hall to the bathroom, and I sit on the couch, noticing she threw away the forgotten popcorn from last night. Chuck Berry starts singing “Roll Over Beethoven”. I have to say I like her choices, and I'm impressed she has an entire playlist of songs like this. As I sit on her couch, I realize that I'm still shirtless in her apartment. That I slept here last night. I haven't figured out a lot about Ryan, but what I know so far has kept me coming back to her. Odd doesn't begin to cover my behavior, but I can think about that later.
Ryan comes back, but instead of sitting next to me, she straddles my lap, her hands resting flat on my chest. I instinctively hold her hips, trying not to let my hands wander down to her bare legs that are now seriously begging me to touch them.
“I've been thinking about something,” she says. By that familiar look in her eyes, I know her mind is in the exact spot as mine.
“Oh yeah?” I question, my pulse already speeding up. I vaguely realize that “Let's Get It On” comes on.
Ryan realizes it because she laughs, clearly cracked up by the song. “I think my playlist is conspiring against us.” I chuckle and she continues in a softer, no longer focused on the music, voice, “I've been thinking about these.” Ryan lifts a hand and places the tip of her finger in the middle of my bottom lip. “And this,” she says, moving her hands over my chest, up to my shoulders. Then she starts going down my arms, gently squeezing my biceps. “And these too.” Ryan lets her hands go all the way to my own. She plucks them from her hips, my hands lifeless in hers, giving her complete control. She holds them up before intertwining them with hers. “Last, but definitely not least.” Inch by inch, Ryan leans forward until she is close enough to press her lips against mine. “But mostly these.”
She kisses me then, just as slow but even more intense then last night. There's too much sexual tension between us. I'm already turned on, and Ryan knows it because her lips lift a little against mine as she rests fully in my lap. These basketball shorts aren't hiding anything either. Ryan tastes minty, but the longer we kiss, the more I taste her. She lets go of my hands to hold onto my shoulders instead. My own don't even bother going back to her hips. They head straight for those toned thighs of hers that I want wrapped around my waist.
The silky smoothness of her skin disorients me more than anything. I have just enough clarity to keep my hands from exploring because the moment they do, I'll be lost in her again. Ryan withdraws from my lips, kissing my jaw, before going to my neck. That beautiful shoulder is in front of me, so I start from the right, kissing and sucking my way to the crook of her neck while her lips travel to nibble on my ear.
“Gabe?” She breathes.
I hum against her shoulder in response.
“Let your hands move.” I feel her hands over mine, lifting the fingers a little. “Your grip is too tight.”
That clears some of the haze, and I pull away to see her giving me a small smile. “Sorry.”
“It's fine.” The moment clashes as Aretha starts singing about respect. Ryan sits upright, looking down at our hands, and I lean back into the couch. After a moment, she peers up at me from underneath those lashes, her red hair framing her face perfectly. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to keep putting you in situations where you feel the need to restrain yourself. I'm not exactly used to people holding back. Am I really that bad that you would feel guilty about me? Because that's how you felt after our date, isn't it? I don't understand why you keep coming back if I made you feel that way. I-”
