Chapter 32
Sienna came back every night that week, always late, and always ready to go straight to bed. As soon as Justine closed her arms around her, Sienna’s naked body relaxed against hers, and mere minutes later, Sienna’s breathing slowed before settling into the most adorable purr. She was exhausted in every single way, that much was obvious.
Despite her father’s sudden death, Sienna was a professional making a movie, and she wanted to do more than just a decent job. Those two things—grieving and playing Rochelle in Gimme Shelter —were clearly all she had energy for right now.
If Justine’s only contribution was to let Sienna fall asleep in her arms each night, she would gladly oblige. She had patience. She had time. They could talk later.
But of course it moved her, in more ways than one, to hold a near-naked Sienna in her arms every single night. To push her breasts against Sienna’s soft skin and feel the heat of her body radiate onto hers for hour after hour.
Justine was still madly—and maddeningly—in love with Sienna but, apart from turning up to sleep in her bed, and arms, every night, Sienna hadn’t given any signs of wanting anything more from Justine.
It was Friday and if Sienna showed up tonight, she wouldn’t have to rush off to the studio in the morning. They might find some time to talk tomorrow—they might even have breakfast together. Although sometimes Justine considered that it was to her advantage that Sienna didn’t stick around for anything else than sleep, because it helped to curb the increasing urge to kiss her. Or to reach for her in the night, when their bodies had separated during sleep, and do so much more than just hold her.
Justine might have patience and time, she also has a wildly pulsing clit each night and surely Sienna must feel how hard her nipples grew when Justine pressed her breasts against her back?
Time ticked away and it was well past midnight when Justine stopped puttering about. She’d been keeping herself busy, waiting for Sienna, who still hadn’t turned up. The evenings before, she had always texted to politely inquire if it was okay to come over, but Justine hadn’t received a text yet tonight. Maybe Sienna had other plans tonight. Maybe she was out. Maybe she was with her family. Maybe she was fully rested. Or maybe—who knew?—she was on a date. Either way, her plans didn’t include Justine which made perfect sense because Sienna had told her that she couldn’t be with Justine. That it was too difficult. That she couldn’t trust her.
Still, you didn’t turn up at someone’s house each night to sleep in their arms, as though it was the only place in the whole wide world where you could find some peace, and not have some sort of feelings for them. Signals were mixed and things were complicated. That was pretty much the story of Justine’s life.
Because of Sienna’s presence in her bed, Justine hadn’t gotten enough sleep herself, and she was exhausted. She got ready for bed but kept her phone on, as always, and put it on the nightstand.
But Justine couldn’t sleep. Not without Sienna in her bed. Not so much because she needed her there, but because she was worried. Sienna was fragile. Only a few days ago she had turned up at Justine’s door in the middle of the night looking completely unhinged. Even though there was an explanation for that—severe sleep deprivation—there were a million other reasons why Sienna could go off the rails. There were the obvious ones that Justine knew about such as her father’s death. And the woman she was seeing not turning up to the funeral. But it was the reasons Justine didn’t know about that worried her the most. Because Justine knew what feelings that lurked under the surface could do—what they could make you do. She knew how vulnerability could make humans react in ways that weren’t in their best interest because she witnessed the result of that every single day.
But she didn’t want to call Sienna. She didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on her. Nor did she have any claims to make. Sienna hadn’t made her any promises—on the contrary—and Justine had offered her help freely and unconditionally. Worries after midnight were the price she had to pay.
Justine must have nodded off, despite her worries, because she was woken up by the doorbell. She hurried downstairs and, sure enough, Sienna stood in the doorway.
“Once again,” Sienna said. “This isn’t forgiveness.” She all but pushed her way into Justine’s house again, but instead of walking past Justine, she grabbed her by the shoulders, and pressed her against the nearest wall.
Sienna gazed at Justine through red-rimmed eyes—Sienna’s pain had obviously gotten the better of her again.
“I didn’t want to come, but now I can’t stay the fuck away,” Sienna whispered, before leaning in and touching her lips against Justine’s.
Oh, fuck. Justine wanted to kiss her back so badly. And she did, but only for a short moment. Sienna was in no state to do this. She was obviously not herself. She was hurting and stressed because of the movie and all the scenes she still had to shoot. She was blowing off steam and it took all of Justine’s willpower to say no, because all week long, she had craved this very thing. But this was not how she wanted to resolve the tension between her legs. Nor did she want it to be something that Sienna might regret tomorrow—that would be the hardest to bear.
Justine pulled back as much as she could while standing with her back against the wall.
“Let’s talk,” she said. But Sienna came for her again, pressed her lips against Justine’s again.
“It’s too late to talk,” Sienna groaned in between kisses. “I don’t want to talk.”
“Okay.” Justine put her hands between their bodies. “Time out. Stop.”
Instantly, Sienna took a step back. The look of hurt dejection on her face was almost too much for Justine to bear.
“Let’s take a breath,” Justine said softly.
“I don’t want to talk,” Sienna repeated. She took a step back and crashed against the opposite wall. The hallway of Justine’s house was so narrow that they were still standing close to each other. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
Justine closed the remaining distance between them. She took Sienna’s hands in hers. “I know it’s hard. I know that it hurts.”
“I wasn’t even that close to him. I don’t get why it feels like I’ve been torn in half. Like a part of me is missing.” Tears trickled down Sienna’s cheeks.
“He was your father,” Justine said. “He was a part of you and he always will be.”
“I don’t know what to do to feel better.” Sienna’s voice broke all the way.
“Can I hug you?” Justine asked.
“Please.” Sienna’s voice was barely audible, but Justine heard.
Justine folded her arms around Sienna and held her close.
Sienna put her head on Justine’s shoulder and cried and cried.
Justine couldn’t take away Sienna’s pain, but she could offer her arms and all the tenderness she had inside her. Although tenderness may not be the perfect antidote for pain, it was the best place to start healing.
Sienna woke up with her head sore from all the crying she had done the night before. All those tears she was shedding for a man who had barely made time for her still didn’t make much sense. But now that the shock of Bobby’s death had subsided, it had left her surprisingly unsettled. Like a permanent dent had been inflicted on her previously carefree life—a hole in her soul that not even time could mend.
It was early and Justine was still sleeping. Sienna examined her still shape, her peaceful face, and it made her feel a little bit better. It made her feel as though, when all was said and done, she could learn to live with that dent. Being with Justine made her feel as though her soul, even with a big Bobby-shaped hole in it, might find unexpected ways to be all right. Because Justine was all kindness and patience, even after last night and how Sienna had turned up at her house—once again filled to the brim with hurt and demands.
When Sienna had started composing her usual text message to Justine to ask if she could sleep over, something had come over her. An unshakable urge to feel something other than all the nothingness inside her. Something, she knew, only Justine could provide. Something much more intimate than just sleeping in her arms.
Sienna realized she had gone about it the wrong way. Maybe she’d even deliberately sabotaged herself because she knew Justine would not respond to how strongly she was coming onto her—although you never knew with Justine. She presented as the epitome of being dependable only to not show up at your father’s funeral.
Perhaps it could have gone either way, but Justine had put a stop to it immediately. In hindsight, it was a good thing, because Sienna hadn’t been thinking clearly. She seemed to have lost that ability ever since she got that dreadful call about her dad. Because how could you possibly think clearly, or expect to have a logical, sane thought ever again, when a person’s life could be over in the blink of an eye? When her dad could be alive one second and be gone the very next. When nothing made sense any longer.
Justine turned on her side toward Sienna, and Sienna was engulfed with a wave of something. She didn’t know if she was still in love with Justine. Probably. Why else was she here? Why else had she tried to kiss her last night? But Sienna didn’t trust her own thoughts, let alone her feelings. Nothing about her could be trusted right now.
With her eyes still closed, Justine reached for Sienna. She put a warm hand on Sienna’s belly, then slid it over her side, onto Sienna’s back.
Sienna might be grieving, might be experiencing a brand-new kind of pain in her life, but she also knew that Justine was the one who made it more bearable. Justine not only helped her sleep—she did so much more than that. Maybe that’s why Sienna had tried to get it on with her last night. Her body, once recovered from the shock, had not stopped wanting Justine. If anything, it wanted more of her. And soon, only Justine’s arms around her would no longer suffice. Justine might have stopped their kiss—and rightly so—but something else hung in the air.
Sienna scooted closer to Justine, until their bare breasts touched. A flutter stirred in her belly. Maybe, last night, Sienna had just followed her gut. And yes, she had been too aggressive, but Justine had just stopped her—she hadn’t turned Sienna away. She hadn’t asked her to leave.
Justine’s eyes were still closed so she was presumably still sleeping, yet her hand tightened around Sienna’s waist. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe even of this.
Sienna couldn’t possibly know that, so she quickly dismissed the thought of making Justine’s potential dream come true. All she could do was wait for Justine to wake. But Justine had slipped her hand around Sienna’s waist, so Sienna could do the same to her. She did. Their bodies pressed closer together and it was a natural movement for Sienna to position her head just above Justine’s breast. It was a hell of a lot more than the naked-but-chaste spooning they’d been doing all week, yet it felt, to Sienna, exactly as things should be.
“Hmm,” Justine groaned low in her throat, making Sienna wonder whether she was really still asleep.
“Are you awake?” Sienna whispered.
“Hmm,” Justine replied, then shifted so her lips were dangerously close to Sienna’s.
Next thing Sienna knew, Justine’s lips were on hers. Justine was kissing her. Half asleep or not, Sienna kissed her back. Sleepwalking might be real, but Sienna had never heard of sleep-kissing before.
Justine’s hand slid from Sienna’s back to her belly, then, deliciously, up to her breast. Oh, Justine was very much awake. Maybe she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Maybe she needed this to happen in that fuzzy dreamlike state between being asleep and awake. Justine cupped Sienna’s breast and slipped her tongue inside Sienna’s mouth.
It was all Sienna wanted. It was what she needed. She craved Justine’s soft skin. Her deft, unique touch. Sienna had missed it so much, she instantly wondered why she had denied herself this. Why she had denied herself Justine. Because if anyone could make her feel the tiniest bit better, it was Justine Blackburn—and her alone.
Justine skated her thumb along Sienna’s rock-hard nipple, then let her hand travel down. Instinctively, Sienna rolled onto her back and spread her legs. God, how she wanted Justine. How she wanted to feel her fingers inside her. How she wanted to feel something else than all this grief and pain she’d so suddenly been saddled with. Not just for her dad, but for Justine letting her down when she needed her the most. But none of that mattered right now, because Justine’s fingers were traveling down still, slowly but securely, to exactly where Sienna wanted them.
“Fuck me, please,” Sienna whispered. “Oh fuck, Justine, I need you.”
Justine’s fingers slid between Sienna’s legs. If she could, Sienna would spread farther, but she was already spreading as wide as she could. For Justine. But also for herself. Just as the warm embrace of Justine’s arms around her had helped her sleep, maybe this could help her heal. Or at least help her somehow, if only by being connected to another human being, by feeling alive instead of numb for a few moments, by experiencing the closeness of intimacy and the power of a climax delivered by someone who—unmistakably—cared for her.
Justine gently stroked Sienna between her legs, her fingertips featherlight and oh-so controlled, making Sienna aware of how fully awake she must be. This was not the handiwork of someone half asleep. Justine kissed her way from Sienna’s lips to her neck, then to her ear.
“I’m here for whatever you need,” she whispered, then pushed herself up and looked Sienna straight in the eye as she, gently and slowly—as was her way—slipped her fingers inside Sienna. As she did—again—what Sienna had asked of her. As she fucked her.
Sienna’s breath stalled and, with it, all the agony that had been eating her from within came to a stop as well. It disappeared to a place from where it could no longer hurt her. Because Sienna was captured in Justine’s tender gaze, by the smooth strokes of her fingers, and the nimble positioning of her thumb over her clit. There was no room for anything else, especially not for pain and grief. Effortlessly, Justine took her back to the time when Sienna’s father had still been alive. When she and Bobby, although estranged, still had all the time in the world to get to know each other. To forge a better father-daughter bond. To, quite simply, be better at being a parent and a child. Everything was still possible because Justine was doing the one thing that was impossible. She stopped time. When she looked into Sienna’s eyes, with all that love so brazenly, so easily, on display in her face, she made the minutes stop. Justine had that power. And Sienna loved her for it.
It didn’t take long—not nearly long enough—for Sienna’s body to surrender to Justine’s touch, but most of all to her attention, to her care and focus and understanding. To all that she had given Sienna from the instant she had come knocking on her door.
Justine’s fingers were no match for Sienna’s exhausted body, her defenses crumbling as though made out of water instead of something stronger.
Sienna came hard and loud and with her muscles shuddering at Justine’s hands. Of course she did. Such was Justine’s power over her.