Beautiful Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy Book 2)

by Lauren Rowe

  She nods, looking relieved—and incredibly turned on. “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you trust me to take good care of you?”

  “I do.” She softens. “I really do trust you, Reed. I’m nothing but excited.”

  I hold her trembling face in my hands. “You loved the swing, right?”

  “I loved it.”

  “Then you’re going to love this, too. Even more.” I trace the contours of her striking cheekbones, before dropping my hand to my side. “Now, suck my cock, kitten. And make it the best fucking blowjob you’ve ever given.”

  Unbridled lust washes over her features. “Yes, sir.” She dips down, sending her round ass into the air, and her breasts and necklace against the table, and gets to work. And, soon, I’m on the cusp of total Nirvana. Hurtling toward a release my body wants, but the rest of me knows won’t serve my greater purpose.

  “Stop,” I choke out.

  She obeys, her chest heaving.

  “Come here.”

  I put my arms out and Georgina comes to me, wrapping herself around me the way she did in the swimming pool. When I’ve got her firmly in my grasp, I carry her out of the dining room, through my living room, and up my staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Finally, when I reach my bedroom, I lay her down on my bed, the head of my cock dripping, and open the top drawer of my nightstand.

  Chapter 25

  Reed

  I’ve lost count of the number of orgasms I’ve pulled out of Georgina tonight. The number of times I’ve gleefully licked up the evidence of her complete and total surrender. I’ve marked her tonight. Literally, with my teeth and cum. Figuratively, with the tattoo I left on her deepest desires. Maybe even her very soul. Property of Reed Rivers.

  She’s mine now. Sex with anyone else will never measure up to what she’s found with me. I’ve ruined her for anyone else. The same way I ruined Audrey. And Isabel after her. And then Natasha and Corinne and Veronica, and anyone else who’s been fortunate enough—or, perhaps, unfortunate enough—to attract my undivided attention for any length of time. The only difference with Georgina is that, for the first time, ever, I’m pretty sure I’ve been ruined, too.

  It’s a thought that would terrify me, if I weren’t so exhausted. If I weren’t so drunk on Georgina and the perfection we shared tonight. As it is, though, in this moment, after this incredible night, in addition to exhausted, I’m feeling high. The kind of high an explorer feels after discovering, and conquering, a new land. I led Georgina to The Promised Land tonight, in a way she couldn’t have fathomed. I showed her pure ecstasy, repeatedly, and watched with glee as her flames turned into a raging forest fire, and as that forest fire burned out of control. I watched everything she previously thought about her sexuality, and deepest desires, turn to ash. And, finally, I watched Georgina rise like a Phoenix from those ashes and unabashedly claim her new sexuality, without apology. There’s no turning back now. Georgina Ricci will never be the same again. And, almost certainly, neither will I.

  After one last, lingering kiss, I remove the soft cuffs from Georgina’s ankles and wrists. I sit on the edge of the bed, pull her slack body to mine, and cradle her. And she wraps her legs around me and melts into me.

  Still holding her, I lean toward my nightstand and grab a water bottle for her, which she gulps down greedily when I give it to her. I remove her ruby necklace with a soft kiss on her shoulder, and place it on my nightstand, next to her now-empty water bottle. And finally, holding her tightly, I carry her into my bathroom, to the shower, and wash my little kitten in warm water from head to toe.

  Our shower done, I dry her off, stopping occasionally to suck her nipples or kiss her belly or thighs, and then wrap her in a thick white towel and carry her back into my room.

  I place Georgina in an armchair. Change my bedsheets. Clean and put away my various cuffs and toys. I send a quick text to Owen, telling him to cancel my morning meetings. And then I bring the shades on my large windows down, turning my room into a dark cave. I carry Georgina’s sleeping frame from the armchair to my bed, crawl next to her, pull her backside into me. And, finally, I exhale from the depths of my soul.

  Holy shit.

  I’m sure I’ll start panicking tomorrow. Freaking out she’s going to start demanding things from me I can’t possibly give her. But I can’t be bothered to feel any of the usual shit right now. I’m too exhausted. Too relaxed. Too... happy. And so, I simply clutch Georgina to me, just a little bit tighter, and revel in the overwhelming desire I’m feeling to protect, protect, protect what’s mine... and, slowly, drift into the deepest sleep of my entire life.

  ***

  A blood-curdling scream rips me out of a deep sleep, and my eyes fly open. In a heartbeat, my mind clicks into place. Georgina. She’s lying next to me in bed. She’s safe. Asleep. The scream came from her.

  “No!” she shrieks. “No, no!”

  I grasp her shoulder. “Georgie, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

  Her eyes fly open, and when she sees my concerned face staring back at her, and realizes whatever was terrorizing her is gone, she crumples into my bare chest.

  “You’re safe,” I whisper, holding her tight. “You’re here in bed with me. Nothing can hurt you.”

  She shakes in my arms and whimpers, and with each tortured sound that comes from her, my heart feels like it’s physically cracking.

  “What was your nightmare about?” I ask.

  “Mr. Gates,” she says. “Telling you about him... I think it made everything I’ve been stuffing down bubble up and come to the surface.” She pauses. “After he kissed me, he tried to do more, Reed. He tried to do a lot more, but I screamed and kicked him and ran away, as fast as I could.”

  I’m so full of the carnal urge to kill, I can’t speak, so I lay my cheek against hers.

  “I was terrified,” she squeaks out. “I ran and ran, and never looked back.”

  I turn my head and kiss her cheek. “You’re safe now, baby. You’re safe, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you, ever again.”

  Chapter 26

  Georgina

  It’s finally here! The morning of Reed’s party. I’m so freaking excited, and not just about the party. About life! About Reed. I can’t believe how close I feel to him. How much I’ve opened up and let him in. I never would have believed it possible, but... I think I’m no longer falling for him. I think the fall is complete.

  Which is so stupid, I want to slap myself silly. What sane, intelligent woman would ever let herself fall for Reed freaking Rivers—an intensely guarded, “non-committal” older man music mogul whose every third sentence is a bald-faced lie? The answer to that question is: no sane, intelligent woman would do that. Only an idiot. A felony stupid moron who’s clearly let her foolish heart hijack her rational mind.

  It’s why my mind keeps shrieking at my heart to snap the fuck out of it! But my heart won’t listen. And, really, I can’t blame it, after everything that’s happened in such a short amount of time between Reed and me. How could my heart possibly hold back, after the night of the necklace, and the way he comforted me after my nightmare? I didn’t want to wake up the next morning and look at Reed’s sleeping face on the pillow next to mine and think, “My love.” But that’s what happened, whether I wanted it or not... and has kept happening, at random moments over the past couple of days, ever since.

  My ruby necklace is gone now. As promised, Reed brought it back to the store the next day and used the proceeds to pay off my father’s condo in full. Which, hello, is even more reason for my heart to ignore my brain when it comes to my feelings for Reed. But I don’t need the physical necklace around my neck to feel its phantom weight against my skin. Surely, I’ll feel the power of those rubies, the power of that magical night with Reed, for the rest of my days.

  I don’t plan to tell Reed any of this, of course. My feelings for him have turned me stupid, but not dumb. I just wish I could stop feeling so damned smitten with him all the time. I
t’s actually annoying me to constantly feel like I’m swooning, even when I’m trying to work. I spent most of the morning in my room, researching the first half of the guest list for tonight. But the whole time, I felt physically buzzed. After that, I left my room and, for the past hour, I’ve been following Reed around the house as he’s made sure the various workers are preparing for the party to his exacting standards. I figured watching Reed manage the nuts and bolts of an event like this might be a cool metaphor for his hands-on management style, in general. And it has been. I’ve made several notes for my article. But, still, even as I’ve been working, I haven’t once stopped feeling that crazy buzz—that simmering in my blood and skipping of my heart that constantly makes me swoon.

  “No, no,” Reed says to a worker, his voice dripping with annoyance. “The bass rig needs to be set up there, next to the drum kit. Have you never set up a live music performance in your life? Bass and drums. Peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Rivers.”

  “Owen?” Reed shouts over his shoulder.

  Owen arrives, looking irritated.

  “Get someone over here who knows what the fuck they’re doing, for fuck’s sake.”

  “I’ll handle it, Reed.”

  Owen pulls the red-faced worker aside, just as a large black man taps Reed’s shoulder from behind. Which, of course, makes Mr. Cranky-Pants turn around to see who’s dared touch him. But when he sees his assailant, Reed’s demeanor instantly brightens.

  The two men clap each other on their shoulders warmly and exchange quick pleasantries before Reed turns to me, a wide smile on his face.

  “Georgina, this is Barry Atwater, the head of security for both my label and nightclubs. Barry, this is Georgina Ricci, a brilliant writer for Rock ‘n’ Roll who’s doing a feature on me.”

  Ah, it never gets old, hearing Reed introduce me like that. I exchange brief small talk with Barry, and quickly surmise he’s a teddy bear underneath all that muscle. And then, Barry and Reed drift into conversation about logistics for tonight.

  As the men talk, I check the time on my phone. Crap. Alessandra should be here in about an hour to “pre-party” with me, and I still haven’t finished going through the names on the guest list. Before the party starts, I want to be sure I know at least the basics about every name on the list, as well as being able to identify each person on sight, without needing an introduction. The last thing I want is to be introduced to some huge A-lister, without me realizing it. Or, even worse, with me asking something stupid like, “And what do you do for a living?”

  “Hey, Reed,” I say, pulling on his shirt sleeve. “I’m going to head up to my room for a bit to finish going through the guest list before Alessandra arrives. It was great to meet you, Barry. Reed has said wonderful things about you.” I return to Reed. “Hey, can I talk to you privately about something for a sec?”

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Reed says to Barry. “I want to finish our conversation.”

  Reed and I walk a few feet away, until we’re in a semi-private spot.

  “Is everything okay?” Reed asks, looking mildly concerned.

  “Everything’s great. I just wanted to let you know I haven’t told Alessandra you listened to her demo. I want her to be able to enjoy the party, without feeling self-conscious or awkward around you. I’m going to tell her everything on Monday, before she heads back to Boston.”

  Reed rolls his eyes like I’ve said something ridiculous. “One of the conditions of you inviting Alessandra to the party was neither of you talking to me about her music tonight. Remember?” He glances over his shoulder and then, to my shock, reaches around me, and pinches my ass. “God, you turn me on.”

  I leap out of his clutches and immediately look over at Barry, worried he might have seen our clinch. But, nope, Barry is busy on his phone. I return to Reed and waggle my finger at him. “No more grabby hands, Reed. From this moment forward, until we’re safely in your bedroom tonight, I’m nothing but a reporter from Rock ‘n’ Roll to you.”

  “I’ll do my best to control myself.” He flashes me a completely unapologetic smile. “The caterer should have a lunch buffet set up in the kitchen by now. I asked for a spread for whatever pre-partiers come by. Why don’t you fuel up? I don’t want you drinking on an empty stomach.”

  “There’s going to be a pre-party?”

  “Yeah, I told a small group to come by early. Not sure who’s coming, for sure, beyond Josh and Henn.” He looks at his watch. “Shit. I’ve got a conference call. Get yourself some food, baby.”

  I glance at Barry, my cheeks flushing, hoping he didn’t overhear Reed’s endearment. But it’s clear he did. Because the minute my eyes meet Barry’s, he looks down at his phone, and pretends not to have heard a thing.

  “Barry knows about us, doesn’t he?” I whisper.

  “Barry is my personal bodyguard, whenever I need one,” Reed says matter-of-factly, as if that explains everything. “Now, get yourself some food and do some work before Alessandra gets here. I’ll catch up with you soon.”

  “Okay. See you later.” I float happily into the kitchen to grab a bite, and to my surprise, discover Amalia standing at the island with the caterer. “Amalia!” I say, loping toward her, my arms extended. “I didn’t think you came in on Saturdays!”

  Amalia hugs me. “I always come in on party days to coordinate with the caterer.”

  After a bit of small talk, I load up a plate, and Amalia joins me at the small kitchen table to keep me company while I eat. She tells me a cute story about one of her grandsons, who just discovered the word “ridiculous.” I tell her about Alessandra, and how excited I am she’s coming over shortly, and will be staying overnight with me in the blue room.

  After about fifteen minutes, in the midst of my conversation with Amalia, the kitchen door swings opens and two young women bound into the room. A woman with long, strawberry blonde hair, and another one with a dark bob with bangs and bright blue eyes.

  “Amalia!” the brunette says.

  “Hello, sweetie!” Amalia says warmly, leaping up from the table to administer hugs. Amalia introduces the women, and I learn the brunette is Reed’s sister and the blonde her best friend.

  “And this is Georgina,” Amalia says to the women. She opens her mouth, like she wants to elaborate, but closes it. And I don’t blame her. In this context, it would be weird to introduce me in relation to Rock ‘n’ Roll. But who am I to Reed? And what am I doing here? It’s obviously not for Amalia to put a name to it.

  “I’m writing about Reed for Rock ‘n’ Roll,” I say, trying to sound casual. “And also staying here with Reed.” Ugh. That was awkward.

  “Reed mentioned the article,” Reed’s sister says. “And also that you’re staying here. He seemed excited about both.”

  My heart leaps. “I’m excited about both, as well.”

  “That’s good.” She flashes me a warm smile. “We’re going out to the pool. Would you like to join us?”

  “Oh, thank you for the invitation. But I’ve got to finish some work before my stepsister, Alessandra, arrives.”

  “Maybe when Alessandra gets here, then.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  Back in my room, I text Alessandra and ask her to pack bathing suits for both of us, so we can join Reed’s sister and her friend at the pool later today. And, luckily, my timing is good—I’ve caught her before she’s left her mother’s place.

  Swimsuits handled, I sit on my bed with my laptop, open the guest list, and pick up where I left off earlier. The next name on the list? Laila Fitzgerald. Well, there’s no need to look her up. Laila is a superstar, thanks to a sophomore album that’s spun off hit after hit this past year.

  Aloha Carmichael. No need to look her up, either. After years of watching her Disney show It’s Aloha! as a kid, and nowadays seeing Aloha’s ubiquitous face on viral music videos and shampoo commercials, I’d know that pop star’s gorgeous face and famous green eyes anywhere.
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  Keane Morgan. Okay, that’s a name I don’t know. But after a search, I quickly realize he’s an actor from a show I binge-watched last year. In that show, he was in a small, but pivotal role. But, now, it seems he’s moved on to a co-starring role on a hugely popular show I’ve never seen. Well, good for him. I’m glad to see he’s doing so well.

  Madelyn Morgan. I’m assuming from the name she’s Keane’s wife. I google her, and find out I’m right about that. But I also find out she’s a kickass woman—a documentary filmmaker who was nominated for an Oscar last year. I’m a bit surprised, actually. In the show I saw, Keane came off like a total “bro.” But, obviously, if he’s married to a woman like Madelyn Morgan, there must be more to him than meets the eye.

  Dax Morgan. Well, that’s another easy one. 22 Goats has been one of my favorite bands for the past few years, ever since they broke onto the scene with a music video that went viral. With his gorgeous face and long, blond hair, Dax Morgan, their frontman, is instantly recognizable to me and half the world. But even so, I look him up, just to see if he’s related to the actor, Keane Morgan. And, yup. Wikipedia tells me Dax and Keane are the two youngest brothers of five siblings in the Morgan clan.

  Colin Beretta. Another easy one. He’s the drummer of 22 Goats.

  Matthew Fishberger. Hmm. I don’t recognize the name, so I google it, and, instantly feel like an idiot. That’s Fish! The bassist for 22 Goats who’s come across as easygoing and likeable in every interview of the band I’ve read this past week.

  Josh Faraday. Another easy one. Reed’s “male model” best friend from college, whom I met at the bar.

  Kat Faraday. I google her and find out Josh’s wife is a gorgeous blonde bombshell who recently published her first romance novel—a romantic comedy entitled Suck It.

  Well, this I’ve got to see. I find Kat’s book online, and when I behold the smoking hot cover, and read the sassy synopsis, I buy that sucker on the spot.