Getting Real - By Ainslie Paton Page 0,127

the keys to the Triumph. “Sure, let’s get out of here.”

Back at the hotel, Rielle ate a twenty-five dollar room service hamburger and loved every bite of it. Sprawled on the plush suede sofa, Jake watched her lick tomato sauce off her fingers. Now she could read him, the expression on his face told her he wondered what else she might like to lick.

Seated at the dining table, she said, “I’m still hungry.”

He laughed, his voice husky. “For someone so little you sure can put away food.”

“Not that sort of hungry.”

He was on his feet and across the room in less time than it took for her to push away from the table. They made love in four rooms and used half a dozen surfaces starting with the dining table, moving to the moonlit balcony and then to the bedroom via the massive double shower.

Neither of them was tired. They were fuelled by the touch of each other’s skin, the sounds of each other’s sighs, and the knowledge that their time together was almost over.

With one Sydney show down and only three to go, the tour had reached its climax, and everyone was already tuned in to the next thing. Sharon had completed all the forward arrangements, airfares and freight for equipment. Stu and Ceedee were going home via a week in Bali, Jeremy and Brendan were detouring to the Great Barrier Reef, and Rand was working out agenda items for meetings set up in LA prior to the start of the European leg of the tour. Even the crew were talking about their next jobs, some of them moving on to the summer festival season and others taking jobs with smaller touring bands.

For Rielle, lying in Jake’s arms was release and relief. A sweetness she knew was only borrowed; a tenderness that made her throat close up and her eyes water. When she thought about the future, she concentrated on what was critical: seeing Jonas, looking at the whites of his eyes to know if he was well again, the music video edit, planned interviews with media in the UK and Germany, and the kick off of the European tour in Spain. That’s all she could afford to think about. She had to stay centred on the business, keep moving forward, because if she thought about the personal, about her life, if she looked in the mirror too closely, or over her shoulder for one minute, she knew she was lost. If she thought about Jake she knew she was already heartbroken.

“You should sleep, baby.” Jake trailed his knuckles up the curve of her neck. She was as reluctant as he was to let the night end. She hooked her leg across his hip and settled on his chest, her chin on her hand.

“We still have time,” he said.

She shook her head. “I was thinking about how much time we wasted before we got to this point.”

He smiled and stroked her back. “I think maybe we needed all that to get to here.”

“Maybe.” Rielle felt tightness behind her eyes. How could she leave this man whose every touch told her he loved her without conditions? Who’d promised her he’d never ask for more than she could give, and never had?

“Ah Rie, what’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes. “I guess I am sleepy.” Rielle let the pull of tired muscles and the threat of tears drag her into fractured dreams.

For Jake, sleep was elusive; kept away by a growing sense of bitterness born of the knowledge that despite what they’d become to each other, Rielle fully intended to walk away, and he had no idea how to stop her.

44. In the Hand of God

The default setting was drift. Jake knew it and let it happen. He and Rie drifted through the next two days, wrapped in each other, avoiding any talk of the future, of coming apart—of ending. They slept late and woke to make love, stayed close until it was time for the show, and afterwards came together again with a strength of emotion that left both of them gasping.

He gave up any notion of proper sleep. When Rielle finally closed her eyes, he lay awake to watch her, memorising the contours of her face, the shape of her eyes, the line of her cheekbone and the curve of her jaw.

This would be what he’d have to survive on; this and the memories of touching her, loving her, making her claw his back and call his name. He listened to

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