Page 30 of Nothing Heals Me Like You Do
Sienna’s body tensed all the way up, the prelude to surrender—to the biggest pleasure she knew. Her skin glistened with sweat. Her hips bucked wildly upward. Her muscles contracted, then released, as the fire in her belly spread its flames throughout all her cells. Sienna came hard and long and, fuck, all she could think of, even in the throes of that profoundly satisfying climax, was how soon she could get Justine to do that for her again. It was part of Sienna’s most persistent character flaw not only to chase after a woman who was wired to play hard to get, but to do it over and over again.
“Was that worth two-fifty grand?” Justine had the most delicious smug smirk on her face.
“Wow.” Sienna was still catching her breath and the sight of Justine with the toy strapped to her hips didn’t make that any easier. “That’s the first thing you ask me?” Sienna shook her head. “You’re so bad.”
“It’s beginning to dawn on me that you quite like that.” Justine pressed her lips to Sienna’s cheek and the kiss soon morphed into something hot and lingering again, only confirming to Sienna that Justine couldn’t get enough of her.
“I likeyou,” Sienna said after they broke from their kiss.
“Ditto,” was all Justine said.
Sienna could most definitely work with that.
Chapter16
Justine had lived in Los Angeles since she was seventeen, yet she’d never been to a movie set before. Not even on one of the studio tours that tourists went on—she wasn’t a tourist, after all, and it wasn’t as though she had any family visiting her.
Equally, she’d known Rochelle, who’d worked in Hollywood all her career, and had been a casting director for most of it, for the better part of her life. But Rochelle knew that visiting a sound stage where actors pretended to be fictional people would just be a waste of time for a woman on a singular mission like Justine.
But to see, with her own eyes, the earliest version of the Rainbow Shelter rebuilt on set, was even more of a trip than meeting Alexis Dalton for the first time. What was even more complicated for her to grasp was to see Alexis, dressed in the kind of clothes Justine wore back then, her hair styled to look as messy and uncared for as Justine’s did, interacting with Sienna, who somehow suddenly resembled thirty-six-year-old Rochelle as though she was her twin.
Obviously, Justine knew how movies were made, yet she couldn’t believe how this was possible.
Everyone she’d spoken to had warned her that it might be odd, definitely weird, perhaps even a little off-putting, but no one had predicted it would be this emotional. Justine had to bite back unexpected—and very silly—tears as she watched the scene Alexis and Sienna were playing. Just like that, it transported her back to when she was a naive, angry-but-hopeful-nonetheless twenty-five-year-old. And of course, Justine knew what acting was, still her brain could not comprehend how Alexis, whom she’d spent a little but really not all that much time with, could portray her so accurately. With the kind of intense and raw vulnerability Justine stomped through life with back then.
“Cut,” Mimi, the director, said. “You ladies are blowing my mind.” She beamed at Alexis and Sienna. They’d started shooting a few days ago and Rochelle had implored Justine to come to the set for this scene specifically—the moment when Justine and Rochelle had met. “Let’s do another take just to be sure,” Mimi said. “Have a breather while we reset.”
“Are you okay?” Like no other, Rochelle could sense a change of mood in Justine. “It’s quite something to watch.”
Justine nodded. “Yeah.” Inadvertently, her glance skittered to Sienna. They’d hooked up again last weekend—Sienna was insistent, and she had a way about her that Justine still found impossible to resist—but, apart from a couple of texts back and forth, they hadn’t really spoken since the shoot had started. Sienna had said the beginning of a shoot was emotionally very engrossing and time-consuming.
Alexis was the first to walk up to Justine and Rochelle.
“No hugs or kisses.” She came across as a lot more relaxed than before. Maybe she was most in her element in this particular environment. “Makeup will kill me.”
“Consider our minds fully blown as well,” Rochelle said. “Look at you.”
“The power of make-believe,” Alexis said. “What did you think?” She looked at Justine.
Justine exhaled dramatically. “I don’t know. Obviously, it’s amazing what you can evoke, but it’s hard for me to wrap my brain around. To see you as me. It’s, um, quite astounding.”
“That’s to be expected.” Alexis smiled. “I guess it also means I’m doing a good job. I’d have to ask myself some serious questions if you weren’t somehow a little shaken by it.”
Suddenly, the vibe on the soundstage changed, as though a current of electricity crackled through the air.
Nora Levine, followed by a man and a woman—Juan and Imani, Justine knew from Marcy—walked onto the set.
Justine’s muscles tensed. Not because she disliked Nora Levine—on the contrary, there was a lot she absolutely loved about Nora, mainly her involvement with, and generous checks to the Los Angeles LGBT Center—but because she knew who Nora was playing in this movie. Her mother.
“She’s probably just here to see her girlfriend,” Rochelle said.
“Nora and her entourage have been here every day. She’s extremely supportive of Mimi,” Alexis said. “It’s kinda cute. I hadn’t really imagined Nora like that.” Alexis brought her hand to Justine’s arm. “Nora’s scenes are only scheduled for next week.”
Justine was certainly not planning to visit the set on the day those particular scenes were being shot. She knew they were part of the movie, and she had given her approval, but she had no desire to relive the drama of her parents kicking her out of the house. She had no intention of opening up that old wound, even though she was pretty sure the layers of scar tissue that had grown over the years would not open very easily—possibly never, not if she could help it.
She scanned the set for Sienna again. She wouldn’t mind looking into her pretty face right about now, just for a touch of comfort, to be pulled out of all of these emotions swirling within her.
Nora must have spotted them and walked over. They exchanged polite hellos. Justine was grateful that Nora’s personal trainer—her ex, Marcy—wasn’t part of her entourage, because that would surely have tipped her over some sort of edge right now. Where was Sienna, damn it? Perhaps she was keeping a respectful distance in order to avoid anyone finding out about their affair—if you could even call it that. They hadn’t agreed on a code of conduct. It hadn’t seemed important when they’d said goodbye last Sunday at Sienna’s penthouse.
