Getting Real

He laughed. If he played this right, she’d be under here with him.

“I’m waiting.”

Muffled by the sheet, he said, “Me too.”

She stepped up onto the bed and stood across his hips, like the day when he’d been under the amp stack. He flipped the sheet back off his head and looked up at her, not sure if he should expect a choke hold or a cuddle. He went to reach for the back of her knees and she bounced away.

“Oh no! Get up, Jake. Come on. We’re going to do a workout.”

He groaned and she dropped to her knees, bent over him and whispered hot in his ear, “I promise you’ll like it.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jake was showered, dressed, standing in the empty gym and watching Rielle lock the door with a key she’d acquired. He wasn’t complaining, but he was wondering what she had in mind.

It was a well fitted out gym with a full set of weights with a bench press as well as the usual cardio equipment. It opened out onto a rooftop pool. Treated floor to ceiling glass stopped the sun from blazing through and helped to keep the room cool while allowing a great view of the city. Rielle locked the door to the pool as well, then pressed herself against the glass, a wicked smile on her face.

Jake was catching on quickly. A surge of desire licked through his body. “Just what sort of a workout were you thinking about, Ms Mainline?” he said, in the guise of the personal trainer.

She shrugged, played it cool. “I like to be worked hard.”

He groaned. As sex fantasies go, this one was up there with the best of them: a bewitchingly beautiful woman—a famous rock star; an empty, locked gym; a glittering pool and a shimmering skyline just outside. Add to that he was in love with the rock star, and not entirely sure whether people claiming deck chairs by the pool could see inside the gym or not, and Jake was near twitching with excitement.

“Have we met before?” he said, advancing on her. He could meet her one hundred times and not be able to understand all of her.

“I don’t think so.”

“You look familiar.” She looked like a fighter, a survivor.

She shook her head. “I think I’d remember if I’d met you, honey.”

She looked like a lover who was stronger than he’d ever imagined. “No, we’ve definitely met before.” He crowded her into the cool, dark glass, a hand either side of her shoulders.

She looked away, licked her lips, one finger rolling under the strap of her fitted Lycra gym top. She made it slap against her skin and Jake inhaled quickly. “Yeah, we’ve met. You’re following the band.”

She changed her rhythm completely, dropped cool and turned fan girl. “Yeah, I’m a groupie. I’m desperate to meet th

em. Do you know them?”

“Oh yeah, I know them. I work on the show. I could get you backstage, baby.”

She fluttered her eyelashes, quirked her head to the side, and bit her lip. “You could?”

“Oh yeah, baby. But we’d need to come to an arrangement.” Jake brought his face close to hers, breathing in the perfume of her soap.

Rielle strained to hold still. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted to touch him. “What kind of an arrangement?”

“One of mutual benefit.”

“Yeah, what exactly were you thinking?”

“I was thinking a whole bunch of things my mother wouldn’t want me to say out loud.”

She laughed, broke character. “Jake! Good thing your mother isn’t in the room.”

“Damn good thing.”

“So this arrangement, would it have anything to do with me putting out?”

“That might work.”