Chapter Twenty-Seven

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Ever since his first time, sex has been a game for Tristan. An intimate one, but a game nonetheless. The sensations, the curves of a woman's body, were all part of an adventure. A delightful dance, but once it had run its course, he was done. He'd move on.

Gazing into Jada's peaceful face, Tristan sensed he'd never be able to perceive it that way again. She looked so perfect laying beside him, flushed yet content. He wasn't much of a cuddler, but he would have stayed there indefinitely, except for one small detail: his bedside clock glaring at him in angry red numerals.

"Jada, I'd love to snuggle up in post-coital bliss, but I'm afraid we both have somewhere to be." Tristan nodded towards the clock.

"Oh shit!" Jada said. She jumped out of bed, scrambling to recollect her clothes. He followed her example, although most unwillingly. Watching Jada cover up wasn't as exciting as helping her undress.

"It's okay. We still have enough time to get there, especially if we--"

"Take your death mobile?" Jada groaned.

"Hey, hey. I am a very safe driver. Harley-Davidson and the LAPD both approve of the way I maneuver my so-called death mobile."

Jada gave one more distrustful whimper which Tristan chose to ignore.

"Apúrate, mi reina. We've got a role to score."

He grabbed hold of her hand and wouldn't let go until she was safely astride his bike. At that point, she became the clinger, grasping his waist tightly as he took off. Tristan faintly heard her screaming the first few minutes, but between the bike and turbulent traffic, he missed out on most of it. She settled down the closer they got to their destination, but her grip on him remained surprisingly strong.

They made it to their audition a few minutes early, but not as much as either of them would typically like. The receptionist agreed because she gave them a disapproving scowl at their near tardiness. However, her opinion proved lacking when Logan spotted them in the lobby on his way down the hallway.

"Tristan! Jada!" He waved at them in excitement.

"Hi Logan," they said in unison.

"Shouldn't you be inside for the auditions?" Tristan asked.

"I just popped out to go to the loo."

"How British of you," Jada stifled a laugh at Logan's colloquialisms. He merely winked in response.

"Well, since you're both here right on time, why don't you audition together? Two birds with one stone and all that."

This option was ideal since Jada and Tristan had already rehearsed together like crazy. They eagerly jumped on the opportunity and Logan led them away, much to the surly receptionist's discontent.

"Donnie, this is Tristan Maxwell and Jada Berklee. Guys, this is Donnie Haverford. The director of Love and War," Logan introduced them to the new director.

Jada and Tristan traded salutations with the nice but bland looking man. Tristan didn't have a read on him yet, but he knew he and Jada would knock his socks off. 

"You can begin when you're ready," Donnie said graciously.

Jada and Tristan traded a knowing look. This audition piece was merely a higher stakes performance of their time acting in Jada's apartment. Together, they would nail it and be the new stars of this future billion-dollar film.

With ease, they picked up the scene again, playing off one another as if they'd been doing it their whole lives. Well, at least for the past few weeks. Their newfound sexual discoveries of each other only heightened the desire between the two characters. It was undeniable: he and Jada had kickass chemistry.

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