One More Time

by Laurelin Paige

  I open my mouth to disagree, but then I close it again. Is Tanner right? Did I put my acting career on hold for him?

  I think back to that time, to all my fears and worries. The same fears and worries that have plagued me over the last ten years. “I might have put some things off so I could be with you,” I admit, putting my palms against his chest. “And you thought if you pushed me away, I’d focus more on my dreams? You sacrificed us…for me?”

  He nods. “I didn’t want you to give up all your chances and then one day find you resented me. I wanted you to stop putting me before you. I loved you too much for that. So when the video happened and you left…it killed me to let you go, but I did.”

  A tear slips down my face. I’m a mess inside with conflicting emotions from his latest confession. On the one hand, he’s so dumb. The idea that I’d be better at anything without him is ludicrous.

  On the other hand, it’s the most incredible thing anyone’s ever done for me. And I wasn’t worthy of it. Because I’ve been lying to him and to myself about those early days.

  “I can’t believe you did that for me, Tanner,” I tell him, my hand cupping his cheek. “I know you meant well. But the truth is that I was using you as an excuse. I was scared too. Modeling came so naturally. I barely had to work for it. But acting was harder. The auditions I did go to ended in so many no’s. What if I never got any further than that? What if I failed? I couldn’t bear to face that.”

  His eyes soften, soaking up my painful confession. “Oh, baby, you could never fail. Not if you get back up again after you’re knocked down, and you always get back up. And look where you are now! You’re so strong and self-assured and about ready to breakout in your first major role. A whole New Jenna.”

  I blink back another tear. “There is no New Jenna, Tanner. Everything you see right now? It’s only been because of you. I started faking my confidence to get me through seeing you again. And I’ve only been able to keep it going because you make me feel strong.”

  He studies me. “I don’t believe that. You’ve always been this strong.”

  “How can you say that? I run away from everything. I ran away from the best thing in my life because I was afraid. It’s all an act.” Tanner’s shaking his head even before I finish my sentence.

  “It’s not an act. This is you. I’ve seen this you on the catwalks of Paris and on cover magazines. You just haven’t let yourself believe that you were meant to be a star anywhere other than the model world when I’ve known all along that you shine everywhere.”

  I know he believes what he’s saying. And it’s true that I’ve always been pretty brave, all models are to do what we do.

  But I know the truth.

  I am only the woman I want to be when I’m with the man standing in front of me.

  16

  Tanner

  I’ve imagined this moment for years, what it would feel like to clear the air. How she would react. I thought for so long I only wanted the vindication of proving that I didn’t cheat on her. That I would never have cheated on her.

  But here when it’s actually happening, while we’re laying everything out on the table, the thing I want most is for her to know how sorry I am. And that she still owns my heart.

  I pull back so she’s forced to look up. “Jenna, I have never stopped loving you. I have never stopped wanting you in my arms. And I’ve been a fool for waiting this long to say that.”

  The tears spill over, and down her face.

  Worried, I use my thumbs to brush them away.

  “It’s fine. They’re happy tears,” she says. “I thought you stopped caring about me a very long time ago. But today… I really hoped you hadn’t.”

  I’m so relieved.

  Despite the chemistry between us—the constant pull, the amazing sex—her messaging has been consistent from day one that we were keeping it casual. I had no reason to believe she’d want to hear any of this from me.

  I have one card left to prove how far I’m willing to go for her, and it’s time to lay it on the table. No more secrets between us.

  “I have something else to confess,” I say.

  She stares at me, concern written on her face.

  “I tried to move on over the years. I dated other people. But I never stopped thinking about you. Finally, I realized I never would. So, uh… well, I’m sort of the one who put the Janner movie together. It was my idea.”

  The world stops. There’s total silence. Even the water seems to stop its bubble and babble for a moment.

  Jenna doesn’t move. She doesn’t say a word. She just stares at me in complete and utter shock.

  And then, after the longest three seconds of my life, her lips shift into a giant beaming smile, and she leaps into my arms.

  “That’s either the most romantic thing on earth, or the most self-indulgent,” she says between kisses. “But I’m awfully glad you did. And, see? I told you I needed you.”

  And just like every time we kiss, it seems, it becomes apparent that we aren’t going to stop with kisses. I call our driver to come collect us, and we make out like teenagers while we wait. As we hop in the car, I fire off a text to the concierge to fill my room with rose petals and candles. I don’t just play a romantic in the movies.

  And the happy surprise on her face when she sees it is enough to make me understand why men do it so often on-screen. Such a simple gesture for such a sweet reward, I think, as she pulls me in for a long, deep, slow kiss.

  We’ve kissed a lot lately, and a lot before, but each kiss since I’ve realized I still need her in my life has felt different.

  We aren’t kissing the people we thought we knew anymore. We’ve finally shed our characters—not the ones from Reason To Love, but the ones we’ve been playing for the world. Each tentative touch of our tongues sends a shiver down my spine, this private conversation of ours that’s totally unscripted is the best love story ever told.

  We explore each other for what feels like ages, just inside the doorway, by the glow of candlelight as the smell of roses mingles with orange blossom in my nose. Barcelona’s couture perfumerie may work for another two hundred years, but nothing can ever capture this scent, with its undercurrents of hope and arousal. Finally, I pull back to gaze at her dilated eyes and kiss-swollen lips, my eyes moving down and up at this out-of-my-league woman I’ve somehow gotten lucky with, not once, but twice over.

  And then I realize—she’s worn red.

  I think she realizes at the same time, because her sensuous mouth widens into a devilish smile as she steps out of her dress, letting it pool at her feet, and stands before me as proud and nervous as she did the first time we made love.

  I’m not wearing a tie tonight, but I take off my vest and toss it onto the couch, a signal that I understand.

  This is our first time. For the second time.

  I hold out my hand, and she silently accepts. Together, we walk into the bedroom, my perfect girl and me.

  “You ruined me for anyone else, you know,” she whispers.

  I don’t answer. There’s no need to. I didn’t say that to her all those years ago to brag, and I don’t need to gloat now. It was never about being a sex god—though, I won’t shun the title. It was about us, as much then as it is now, and the connection that only two people in love can possibly have. And maybe since she was my real first love—and I was her first love—makes our connection deeper. I was the first man to have been inside her, the first man to both love her and make love to her—how could we not be forever marked by that?

  And even though the sex that first night was movie-perfect, the real standard we set that night was how much we felt for each other. I’d gladly trade in every kinky, sexy fuck we’ve had this shoot to make sure she knows I still feel that much for her tonight.

  She steps ahead of me to recline on the bed and removes her bra. This time, there’s no breathless concern that she’ll know what to do and how to please me. She teases me with a smile and toys with her nippl
e while she waits for me to join her.

  My shirt cannot possibly come off fast enough.

  “You know if you rip it, you can afford another one,” she says.

  So fuck it. I do. I need to be on top of her right this second. On top of her and inside her, and thanks to the destroyed shirt, I almost am. I start low, at the arch of her foot, adoring every inch of her skin with my mouth. My tongue hums along her landscape as I move slowly up her leg. I run along the smooth surface of her thighs and feel her skin prick with goosebumps at my touch.

  Jesus, I love how I affect her. How I can make her shiver and moan and writhe. How I can make her use my name like it’s a curse and then like it’s a prayer. It does more for my ego than any award or public recognition could.

  As I move to nibble along the inside of Jenna’s thigh, she brings her hands up to run her fingers through my hair. The feel of them on my neck and ears and scalp makes my dick throb, and it’s tempting to rush to bury myself inside her, to relieve the ache.

  But I’m not going to hurry this. I have a lot of lost time to make up for.

  I make my way to her pussy, sucking and licking along the length of her folds, avoiding the place she wants me most, until she’s soaked and squirming. Then I nudge my tongue under her hood and lave her clit with long, lush strokes.

  She comes quickly, her fingers twisting in my hair as she moans out a string of curse words begging me to stop.

  But I don’t stop. Instead, I clamp down on her bud, sucking the tender swollen flesh that brings another orgasm crashing through right on top of the last.

  Fuck, she’s so gorgeous. So sexy. So perfect, twisting under my mouth from pleasure. So entirely mine.

  My balls are aching and my cock is heavy like lead when I finally strip the rest of my clothes and climb over her. I want to love all of her, want to cherish her breasts and her flat stomach, but I also can’t wait any longer to be inside her. So I settle for attending to her body with my hands, gently plumping her tits while I center myself between her thighs. As though it’s where they belong, she hooks her legs up around my waist, and I slide into her wet, tight warmth.

  We sigh in unison when I’m seated perfectly to the hilt. And then we rock together, our foreheads pressed to each other, both of us murmuring words of love and desire. I move in and out of her unhurriedly, letting the next round of pleasure twine inside of her in slow, languid furls, and when she finally crests again, I speed my thrusts up until I’m climaxing with her, diving off the edge, hurling into a sea of ecstasy.

  We’re sweat drenched and exhausted when I roll off her, but I take her with me, wrapping her tight in my arms. “I love you, my perfect girl,” I whisper, kissing her temple.

  “Tell me one more time,” she says, sleepily, her eyes already closed.

  I do. And then I tell her again.

  I’ll tell her a thousand times. I’ll tell her every day until we die, because now that I have Jenna back, I’m never letting her go again.

  17

  Jenna

  Opening my eyes the next morning gives me the same feeling as a child on Christmas morning—there’s something wonderful waiting for me, and nothing in the world can dampen my enthusiasm about it.

  I peek over at Tanner in the bed next to me. He’s still asleep, so I slip out of the covers and go splash some water on my face. It isn’t until I glance in the mirror that I realize I’ve been grinning the entire time.

  Out in the living area, I grab a room service menu. Strong tea is on my mind. But then a stray memory creeps in, this silly thing we used to do back in the day when we were a new couple and couldn’t fathom being far enough from the bed to go to the buffet.

  I actually giggle out loud. We were so ridiculous. I decide to surprise him with a recreation. The guy I place our order with doesn’t quite fail to mask his concern when I tell him we only need two sets of silverware and mugs to go along with the Belgian waffles, lox, avocado scramble, corned beef hash, breakfast burrito, and one each of every side on the menu.

  What can I say? We have the kind of sex that works up an appetite.

  The knock on the door comes just as Tanner is ambling out in nothing but Calvin Kleins, and as the room service attendant ushers the massive amount of food in, I can’t quite decide which looks more delicious—him or it.

  “Did you order one of everything on the menu?” he asks.

  “Pretty much.” I pour a large mug of coffee for him and doctor it up the way he used to like it, with cream and no sugar.

  “Any western omelets in there?” He hands me my tea, fixed the way I like to drink it--sugar, no milk.

  “No…” I say, suddenly worried that I should have just asked him what he wanted before going on this ordering binge.

  “Thank God,” he says. “I am sick to death of eating those without you.”

  I’m not entirely sure what he’s talking about, but who cares, because he’s just dragged a piece of waffle through some whipped cream, and he’s holding it out for me to eat.

  I lick every single bit of the whipped cream off the fork, then dab a little on him so I can lick that, too.

  It’s not long before this escalates. Twenty minutes later, we’re forced to call down for more whipped cream, and I’ve just performed the tastiest blowjob of my life.

  The food isn’t any less delicious for now being cold. I’ve spent so much of my time off-set sneaking around with Tanner that I’ve forgotten to work in a good room service experience during our Vancouver filming, and that used to be my favorite part of fucking in hotels.

  Well, we’re more than making up for that today.

  We take our time enjoying the dishes, making a mess of crumbs in the bed during the process. Finally, we’ve slowed down on our bacon intake. I take my plate back out to the living room, then return to the bed to crawl beneath the covers. Tanner meets me there, and we lie on our backs, my head on his shoulder.

  Neither of us has addressed the fact that shooting will end tomorrow.

  “So,” I say. I’m not avoiding this discussion. I’m really not. I’m just easing into it.

  “So?” He lifts the hand of the arm I’m lying on and trails his fingers up and down my waist.

  “What’s next, Tanner?” I roll over so I can look at him, but he continues to stare at the ceiling above us.

  “Los Angeles. Warm weather. Press junkets. Premieres.” He’s listing our commitments to the film, not to each other. “I start filming the next Jet movie in another month. You have a zillion offers to sift through.” I roll my eyes at his exaggeration about my newly blossoming acting career. “Rinse. Repeat.”

  “Yeah.” Even though he’s talking about our jobs and not us, it’s kind of the same thing. These are all things we’ll have to navigate as a couple. We might have thrown the press off our scent for now, but it’s only going to take one sighting of us in our sunglasses and sweats grabbing an early-morning bagel for TMI to realize they’ve been played. And then there we are, back in the limelight, prey for the next desperate guy with a camera who wants to make a buck off of spreading rumors about us.

  It’s been heaven having all this private time with Tanner, but it’s not realistic to think that it will last. How will we weather the addition of the rest of the world into our relationship? We certainly didn’t fair well last time the outside got involved.

  “Maybe we should just take things day by day,” Tanner says, finally glancing toward me and meeting my eyes.

  “Yeah. Okay.” I roll onto my back again. My stomach knots.

  I understand the challenges we face—the public, our past. Last time we were a couple there was a ton of attention on us. Now, it will be ten times worse. And I haven’t exactly had a chance to prove that I wouldn’t make the same exact mistakes when the articles casting doubt on us inevitably appear. It does seem like what we have is precious enough to deserve some protection. Precious enough to take our time.

  Except… is it dumb that I don’t want to waste anymore
time?

  We’ve already spent a decade apart, why wait any longer to be together?

  I sigh, loudly enough for him to squeeze me tighter. Then I close my eyes and nestle into Tanner’s embrace. I’m not going to waste this time together freaking out about the challenges we face. That’s almost all I’ve done so far, when instead I could be enjoying the feel of his long, hard body against mine. I can pretend the outside world doesn’t exist for just a tiny bit longer.

  After tomorrow, our real life begins.

  * * *

  Our real life starts with a bang. Or more accurately, a camera flash.

  The news from Vancouver has filtered down to La La Land, so I’ve hardly set foot in the terminal before there’s someone in my face asking me if it’s true that Tanner and I have been faking a relationship for publicity.

  I don’t know what to say.

  We flew separately hoping to avoid a scene like this, but we probably should have had a plan for this situation, just in case. “Take it one day at a time” didn’t cover what our official line would be. I have several voice messages that came through the minute the plane landed from Carrie asking the same thing, and I can’t even bring myself to call her back.

  As much as I’d love to just say, we’re together but we’re keeping it private for now, even handing it off to our teams to handle feels like a violation. We need to have a real talk about this, Tanner and I. Tonight.

  And in the meantime?

  “No comment,” I tell the reporter as I get into the car that’s waiting for me. I take it to my house to drop off my baggage before continuing over to Tanner’s. My fingers fly across the keyboard of my phone as I desperately try to catch up on all the emails I’ve ignored over the past couple of weeks.

  Carrie texts me, How come you can give me opinions on scripts within a half hour of receiving them, but not tell me what’s up with you and TJ?