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This was no exception. Fortunately he had a few moments to breathe through it and settle, before he felt her touch on his arm. It must have still been in his face, though, because Skye was looking up at him, concern marking her brow. She had donned his shirt, but was barefoot. He slid an arm around her. “Nothing. Just a weird dream.”
She made a gesture. “No, I don’t need to talk about it. Just need to shake it off. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She made a shivery gesture. “Oh, sorry. Your human heater left, hunh? I can make you some coffee. Or we can head back to bed.”
He brushed a kiss over her mouth, using the pleasure of it to banish his personal mind fuck. “Your sub could go down on you and give you a hell of an early morning orgasm.”
She pushed at him, amused, but a spark in that sleepy look said he’d made an impression. Proving it, she slid the heel of her hand against his morning erection. It hadn’t diminished in the slightest, thanks to the shot of pure adrenaline when he thought he’d heard that engine.
The shift in attention helped ease the pain of knowing he hadn’t. He wasn’t lying to her or hiding the truth, because he had no idea what the hell had just happened. If the white noisecrap didn’t go away, he’d let the hearing doc take a look. He had another checkup coming when he got back.
Skye curved an arm around his neck to lift herself on her toes. It pressed her against him, so he dropped a hand to grip her ass and hold her closer, trying to lose himself in the deep kiss she offered. When she drew back, she put her hands on his temples, telling him she could see the headache. Could probably also tell he was a little spun up. He shook his head, confirming he was fine. He hiked her up so she wrapped her legs around him.
When she signed, the two words he picked up replaced a pointless wish with a far better reality.
Coffee. After.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After he left the doc’s office, Tiger stood by his truck for a while. Then he started walking. He didn’t have a destination in mind, just needed to think, but an hour and several miles later, he stood in front of the TRA offices.
He texted Skye, but after a few minutes with no response, he realized she was probably still in her Monday staff meeting. He should go. Instead, he called the general office number and watched the transcription scroll across his screen as Bastion picked up. “Thomas Rose Associates. This is Bastion. How can I help you?”
“Hey. This is Tiger. Is Skye available? If she’s not, it’s not a problem. She’s not expecting me. I was just in the neighborhood.”
Before his hearing loss, he’d only talked directly with Bastion a couple times, but he could easily recall the deep baritone. Bastion made an impression with his football player build, waist-long locs and a sexuality that resisted instant classification. He might address a male as “honey” or “baby” one moment, then offer him a beer and shift to “dude” or “bro” in the next, depending on his mood or the person.
The gate buzzer blinked. Since he had his hand on the wrought iron bar between the finials, Tiger felt the vibration when the lock disengaged. As he pushed it open and stepped through, Bastion responded. “She’ll be out of her meeting in about twenty minutes. Come on in and we’ll get you set up with coffee and a pastry.”
“If it’s all right, I’d like to wait for her out here.”
A pause, then the screen bloomed with words again. “Sure thing. I can have the coffee brought out to you.”
“Oh hell, no, but thanks. I’m not a client. Don’t worry about me. If it gets past a half-hour, I’ll leave and catch her another time. But if she gets out…I’m here.”
“You don’t have to be a client to be treated like a welcome guest. We have a good coffee blend Cyn likes, a minor step up from motor oil. I’m guessing it will suit your palate.”
The transcription turned that into “pallet,” which, along with the words, gave Tiger a tight smile. “Seriously, I’m good. But thanks for that, man. And yeah, I do prefer it strong and black.”
“Don’t tease me, honey. I’m at work.”
That did make him chuckle.
The guy was a Dom, something Tiger had found out because Bastion came to Progeny as Ros’s guest several times. On one of those nights, he’d chosen two subs for play, a man and a woman, handling them together with skill and memorable creativity.
Progeny wasn’t his usual venue, either because he preferred to play elsewhere, or couldn’t afford the membership. TRA offered above average salaries, Tiger was sure, but Bastion had expensive taste in clothes. He was also partial to jewelry. That night he’d worn a dark gold ring on his forefinger. The setting had been a snarling lion, a ruby resting in the grip of his jaws. Tiger remembered how Bastion had caressed his female sub’s cheek with the sculpted metal and glittering stone. Letting herfeel a taste of the cold and unyielding over the warmth and gentleness she might earn…if she was good.
Tiger moved toward a concrete bench that kept him within sight of the front door. The gardens were a mix of native favorites with fancier flowers and shrubs. Statuary placed among the greenery ranged from classical to sensual or whimsical. A good reflection of the women who ran the business.
This section had the classical type, a woman with her abundant hair piled on top of her head, face tilted as if listening to something. The statue reminded him of Skye, her posture when using all her senses to take everything in.
Butterflies flitted over the flowers, a baby praying mantis crawling along the edge of his bench, the bug smaller than his thumbnail. Near the base of the statue, a writing spider created a full novel on her web. A frog, perched on a birdbath framed by wispy white flowers, had his eye on a juvenile Eastern garter snake, ribboning through the azaleas.
Sitting on this bench, a person would witness the opening of blooms in summer and the dropping of leaves from the live oaks in fall and spring, before they became winter mulch. Birds and squirrels hopping from branch to branch would persevere through the changing of the seasons.
He’d expected to miss conversation and engine noise. But how much he’d missed the background noise of life had been the real surprise. Birdsong, traffic, voices in the grocery store, that current of noise was something that made a person feel like they were in it, included in the rise and fall, the changes and cycles. Without it, he stood apart.
When he’d first been struggling with the hearing loss, the crazy silence in his head and his inability to hear himself talk, he’d woken in a sweat too many damn times from the same nightmare. In it, he was shouting, and realizing that not only could he not hear himself, no one else could either.
