Beautiful Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy Book 2) Page 4

  “Georgie,” Reed says. He gets up from the bed, clearly intending to comfort me.

  But I hold up my palm. “Stop.”

  He stops in the middle of the room, mere feet away from me, his bare chest heaving.

  “I get that you couldn’t possibly love Alessandra’s music the way I do. And I know in your world nobody gets a gold star for progress, only results. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel crushed in this moment, to hear your brutally honest opinion. It doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to feel whatever I honestly feel, and give myself time to process it and try to move past it. I’m sorry you’re not getting laid tonight, like you planned. Like you think you’re owed. But you should know I’m not withholding my body from you because you didn’t give me the result I wanted on the demo. I’m not a spoiled brat. And I’m not a whore. I’m withholding my body from you because I’m pissed at the way you spoke to me. The way you assumed I’m so quick to trade on my body.” I take a deep breath. “Now, I’m going to my room to be alone for the rest of the night, to process my emotions and anger, because, if I don’t, I’m going to say something I regret. Or, quite possibly, punch you in the face.” With that, I swing open Reed’s door with gusto, tossing over my shoulder, “See you in the morning, Mr. Rivers. But only because you’re my fucking job.”

  Chapter 5

  Reed

  After Georgina slams my bedroom door shut behind her, I stride to it, every fiber in my body urgently wanting to fling it open and follow her. But I stop myself. Indeed, I stand at the door and press my forehead against it and force myself to stay put.

  Goddammit. Why did Georgie have to push so hard about that demo? I knew listening to it would lead to nothing good. I could feel it in my bones. But she pushed and pushed. And now, here we are.

  Doesn’t she know I went in wanting to love Alessandra’s music? Doesn’t she know nothing would have given me greater pleasure? But I had to be honest. Brutally honest. I’ll lie and fudge a little about certain things. But not about my professional judgment. Not for friends or family or anyone else. Not even for the most electrifying girl I’ve ever met in my life.

  Fuck. I thought I’d be tying sexy Georgina’s limbs to my bedposts tonight, and then fucking her to bliss like she’s never been fucked before. Not making her hate my guts. Yeah, making Georgina storm out of my bedroom tonight most definitely wasn’t the plan. Neither was making her cry.

  For the love of fuck, how was I supposed to know about Georgina’s mother? Somewhere in my brain, I vaguely remember Georgina saying something about Alessandra losing her father as a kid... I think? But Georgie’s never said a word about her own mother. How was I supposed to know Georgina’s grief about her mother, and her love for Alessandra, and for Alessandra’s music, are all tied up together inside her? I mean, if I’d known that, it wouldn’t have changed my opinion in any way. It wouldn’t have changed the ultimate result. But maybe I would have phrased things slightly differently. With a touch more, I don’t know, gentleness? Am I even capable of doing that, though? I sincerely don’t know.

  Shit!

  I want so badly to march into Georgina’s room and explain myself. Or maybe, just try to comfort her. But I know I can’t. Georgina said she wants to be alone, and I can’t chase her. Long before she stormed out, when she was perfectly calm earlier, she requested a separate room, much to my dismay. Which means she didn’t want me the way I want her, even before this latest fiasco.

  Sighing, I straighten up from the door, drag my exhausted ass back to bed, and turn off my lamp. God, I’m exhausted. This has been a long damned day. I close my eyes and command my body to sleep. But, soon, it’s clear my body isn’t going to obey. I’m way too wound up.

  Muttering expletives, I grab my laptop and click into a licensing agreement requiring my review. But I can’t concentrate. Because... Georgina.

  Goddammit! I knew she’d fly off the handle about the demo. I knew it, without a doubt. Because underneath all that beauty beats the heart of a fucking psycho. There. I said it. She’s beautiful and sexy and smart and funny. And the most exciting woman I’ve ever met. But all that comes with a price. Namely, that she’s also a fucking psycho.

  I sit up in bed and drag a palm over my face. God, she’s sexy as hell when her psycho peeks out. I shouldn’t get turned on by her flashes of anger the way I do, but, oh, God, I do. So fucking much.

  I sit up, grab my phone, and text Owen: You up?

  Two seconds later, I get his reply: No, I’m asleep.

  Calling now.

  Oh, yay.

  Of course, Owen dutifully picks up after one ring. Because he’s Owen.

  “Hello, boss,” he says. “How lovely to hear from you at midnight after I worked all day and night.”

  “Yeah, don’t you mean after you fucked up? You’re the one who let Georgina out of your sight, just long enough for C-Bomb to get her alone.”

  “I let Georgina out of my sight because she was with Leonard and his daughter, and you texted me a demand to meet you outside the VIP door.”

  “Okay, we’re wasting time. Moving on. I need a favor.”

  I explain what I want and Owen tells me what I’m asking for might as well be the moon and the stars, thanks to the short turnaround time I’m demanding.

  “If anyone can work a miracle, it’s you,” I say.

  Owen mutters something under his breath.

  “I’ll pay triple market price,” I toss out. “I don’t care how you make it happen. Just do it.”

  He sighs. “Okay, I’m sure I know someone who knows someone who can help me. I’ll see what I can do. No promises, though.”

  I smile to myself. When Owen Boucher says he’ll “see what he can do,” the task is as good as done.

  “So, based on this ‘favor,’ I’m assuming Georgina’s interview of you is either going very, very well... or you’ve somehow really pissed her off?”

  I roll my eyes to myself. Fucking Owen. Nothing gets past him. “It’s door number two, unfortunately. She’s in my guestroom down the hall at the moment, trying to resist her stated desire to ‘punch me in the face.’”

  Owen chuckles. “Oh my. What did you do, Reed? And is it wrong I’d kind of like to see her follow through with that threat?”

  “I did something monstrous.” I flap my lips together. “I didn’t sugarcoat my opinion regarding her stepsister’s music demo.”

  “Oh, the horror.”

  “I know.”

  “Were you harsh about it?”

  “No, I was honest.”

  “You were harsh.”

  “No. Well, maybe a little bit. I got pissed for a second there, so maybe I didn’t word things as nicely as I should have.”

  He chuckles. “Was she already planning to sleep in the guestroom before you listened to the demo, or is she freezing you out because of the demo?”

  “She was already planning to sleep there.”

  “Well, that’s good, right? At least, you know she already hated you, even before you pissed her off.”

  “There was never any question she’d sleep in a guest room,” I lie. “Georgie and I have a purely professional relationship, Owen.”

  “Oh, really? Then why wasn’t I allowed to let C-Bomb get her alone?”

  “Which you fucked up.”

  “And why am I moving heaven and earth to arrange that delivery for first-thing tomorrow morning?”

  “For your information, I had the idea to give Georgie this present hours before she wanted to punch me in the face. I just didn’t get around to asking you to arrange it before now.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I can give a gift to a woman I’m not romantically interested in. Look how many gifts I’ve given to CeeCee over the years, to celebrate a birthday or whatever accomplishment.”

  “CeeCee isn’t a twenty-something-year-old fireball who’s built like a brick house. And CeeCee isn’t staying at your house for a full week, at your invitation, when a hotel would have been perfe
ctly convenient. And CeeCee isn’t a woman you won’t let tour with RCR, or party with C-Bomb, even though both things would have made for an awesome article, and you know it. Should I go on, or are you going to cut the bullshit?”

  “No, don’t go on. In fact, shut the fuck up.”

  He chuckles.

  “I’m already cranky, thanks to Georgie hating me and wanting to punch me. Why are you actively piling on?”

  Owen laughs uproariously. “Wow, she’s really gotten under your skin, hasn’t she? Good for her.”

  I drag my palm over my stubble and say nothing. Because, what is there to say? It’s obviously true: Georgina has gotten under my skin. In fact, I think she’s done a whole lot more than that, not that I’d admit it to Owen. I’m pretty sure, just this fast, the girl has infiltrated my bloodstream. How the hell did Georgie do that? I’ve had all my usual guards and defenses up... But, somehow, she keeps finding ways to slither around and through and over them, like they’re not even there.

  “I’ve gotta go,” Owen declares. “My cranky boss wants something unreasonable, so I’ve got to move heaven and earth to make it happen. I wouldn’t want to get fired.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t fire you tonight, after I found Georgie with C-Bomb.”

  “I’m counting my lucky stars. I’ll call you if I manage to get a delivery scheduled. So leave your ringer on.”

  I smile broadly. “Thanks, O.”

  “Just think of me as your personal genie in a bottle.”

  “Oh, I already do.”

  We hang up, and I force myself to open up that licensing agreement from before. But I’ve barely made it through two paragraphs when I hear a splash outside my window that makes every hair on my body stand on end and my skin tingle with anticipation.

  I scramble to my floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room, and my heart leaps and bounds, every bit as much as my cock twitches. It’s Georgina. Swimming laps in the moonlight. Giving me a glorious view of her naked backside.

  Chapter 6

  Reed

  My cock is hard as steel and pulsing as I watch Georgina’s naked form swimming laps two stories below. Back and forth across the length of my moonlit pool, she goes, her toned legs and arms working furiously. Back and forth she goes, torturing me. Have I ever seen a more perfect ass? I’m certain I haven’t. I’m physically aching to bite that ass. To lick it and fuck it. I lean my forehead against the window, breathing hard. Feeling consumed with lust. Yeah, she hates me right now. But, even so, she obviously came outside to give me a show. Which means hating me isn’t keeping her from wanting me. Unless, of course, she only came out here to torture me—to dangle what I can’t have in front of me. Which, knowing her, is probably the case.

  After a while, Georgina stops in the middle of the pool, flips over, and floats on her back. And I’m gone. Jolted with carnal, unadulterated, white-hot lust and desire like nothing I’ve felt before. I saw swaths and peeks and segments of her gorgeous body earlier tonight at the stadium, but this is the first time I’m seeing her fully nude, all at once, although the dark water lapping at her sides is doing its damnedest to impede my view. And, good lord, she’s a wet dream. A goddess. The most beautiful creature I’ve ever beheld in my life, without a doubt.

  My eyes trained on Georgina, I slowly pull my briefs off, freeing my straining cock, and toss them onto the floor. My breathing heavy and tortured, I bound over to my nightstand, open the top drawer, and quickly sift through the accoutrements I keep there—soft cuffs, cords, and various vibrating toys—until I locate a bottle of lube.

  After briskly wetting my palm, I return to the window. And with my forehead pressed against the glass, and my eyes trained on Georgina’s floating form below, I grip myself and get to work. I move my palm slowly, not wanting to get myself off too rapidly. But that’s easier said than done, when your visual is Georgina Ricci floating naked in a moonlit swimming pool.

  All too fast, I’m hurtling toward release. I feel my balls tightening. Tingles shooting through my core and cock and balls. I lay my free palm flush against the window, to the side of my forehead, and give myself permission to lose it. But just before I come, Georgina opens her eyes, turns her head, and looks straight at me, shocking the hell out of me and stopping my hand mid-pump.

  There’s a split-second pause, where neither of us reacts.

  I’m a thief. She’s a cop with a flashlight.

  And then... Georgina smiles. And, thankfully, it’s a bold, brazenly sensuous smile. A smile that tells me she likes what she sees. A lot.

  My eyes locked with Georgina’s, I resume my work—this time, far more slowly than before, just in case Georgina gets the bright idea to join me.

  Biting her lip, Georgina glides to the side of the pool, hoists herself onto the ledge, and stands underneath my window—giving me my first wholly unimpeded view of her naked body. And she’s glorious. Her curves are an hourglass in the moonlight. Her nipples erect. Her wet hair is slicked back, showcasing her high cheekbones and full lips. She’s a goddess. A fantasy come to life. And... Oh, God, I think I’m gonna come.

  Condensation begins pooling on the glass in front of my face. I’m a caged lion, an unruly beast trapped behind glass, being teased with a slab of meat. Oh, fuck, I’d pay her any amount of money if she’d come to me now and suck my dick. If only she’d get her hot ass up here and let me touch and lick every square inch of her and then fuck her every which way.

  “Touch yourself,” I mouth to her. And then again. And again. And again. Until, finally, her face lights up with understanding. Her body trembling with arousal, she sits on the ground, spreads her smooth legs wide, and touches herself, right where I’m dying to lick her.

  Oh, God, this is so fucking hot.

  With a loud groan, I lick at the glass, wishing my tongue were licking her sweet pussy. And that does it for her, apparently. Her eyes roll back into her head, her body stiffens and then quakes with her orgasm.

  As my balls tighten and ripple, I grip my cock and aim it right at her tits, and, two seconds later, I’m streaking the glass with the physical evidence of my need. When the deed is done, and my painting complete, I press both palms against the glass, yearning to touch her. It’s a good thing I don’t do coke anymore. Because, I swear to God, if I were high on blow in this moment, I’d grab that armchair from the corner, crash it into this window, and leap through the jagged, gaping hole to get to her naked body two floors below. Which, obviously, wouldn’t be good.

  “Come to me,” I mouth.

  And she immediately responds by rising to her feet, her tits aimed right at me, and lapping at the air with the full length of her tongue, like she’s licking up every last drop of my cum off the window.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” I murmur, every cell in my body exploding with desire. “Come. Here. Right. Now.”

  A naughty smile breaks free across her sultry face, telling me she’s understood my command perfectly. To my thrill, she moves from her spot... but not to come to me, as instructed. No. Georgina is having too much fun torturing me to do that. She grabs a towel off a nearby lounger and returns to her spot, which is where she begins drying herself off, for my benefit. Slowly, Georgina towels off her arms and shoulders. Slowly, Georgina dries off her perfect tits and stomach and pussy. And, finally, with a little wink, she turns around, bends completely over—thereby giving me a view that nearly gives me a heart attack—and slowly proceeds to towel off her feet and shins and calves.

  “Oh my God, you evil woman,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against the glass. “You’re the devil.”

  Her task complete, she straightens up and turns around to face me again, her tits pushed forward and her nipples erect. And then, with a little swish of her hips, she strides across the patio toward the French doors... and disappears from my line of sight.

  My heart crashing with anticipation, I race to my bedroom door and press my ear against it, awaiting the sound of her footsteps in the hallway. She�
��s got to be coming to me now, right? She wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave me alone tonight after that.

  Finally, after what feels like half my lifetime, I hear movement in the hallway. But the sound stops before it gets to my door. Is Georgina standing at the far end of the hallway, deciding whether to come all the way to the end, to my room? Or is she summoning the resolve to head to her own room, just to emphasize her point that, although she’s staying here with me, she’s far from a sure thing?

  Yeah, I know exactly what’s going on inside that glorious, devious mind of hers. She’s standing at the end of the hallway, deciding which she wants more in this moment: to fuck me... or punish me?

  I spear my fingertips into the door, wishing I could physically claw my way through the wood to get to her. Frankly, I’d wear my fingers down to bloody stumps to get to her, if I thought it would convince her to come to my bed tonight. I’d open a vein and give her every last drop of my blood, if it would mean she’d open her thighs to me tonight. I’d pay her any amount of money. The only two things I won’t do? Lie about that fucking demo. Or beg. I begged her once, that very first night, right before she double-flipped me off and peeled away in an Uber. And I swear to God, I’ll never do it again.