Beautiful Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy #2) - Lauren Rowe Page 0,40

clawing at the bed. Until... bliss. I’m gifted with a screaming climax from Georgie that makes me dizzy with arousal. Panting, I crawl up the length of her writhing torso, place her thighs on my shoulders, and plunge myself deep inside her.

My thrusts are hard. Animalistic. Deep.

And Georgina responds by digging her nails into my forearms, screaming my name, and finally, coming hard. Not surprisingly, when I feel her innermost muscles constricting—milking me ferociously—it’s more than I can withstand. With a loud groan, I release along with her, blurting her name like a prayer. I feel dizzy with my pleasure. Momentarily blinded by it. Blissed out like I’ve mainlined a brick of cocaine.

When we finally come down, I heave myself onto my back next to Georgina, trying to catch my breath, and she gasps at the air alongside me.

“That was amazing,” she says.

“I told you not to knock the mirror till you tried it.”

She smiles. “You have the most gorgeous ass.”

“You have the most gorgeous everything.”

I stroke her arm. “I’ve got some great news to tell you. Isabel Randolph called me today.”

Georgina stiffens.

“To tell me she’s engaged,” I quickly add.

Georgina lifts her head and looks at me, but says nothing.

“To this guy named Howard Devlin. He’s one of the most powerful movie producers in Hollywood. He actually owns a studio.” I tell her a bit about Howard and the mega-successful studio he owns, concluding with, “His studio churns out blockbuster hits and Academy Award contenders, in equal measure. The guy can’t miss.”

“So, what you’re saying is he’s the Reed Rivers of the movie industry?”

I chuckle. “The reason I brought it up is that, while Isabel and I were talking about her happy news, I got an idea. What if you interviewed Isabel for Dig a Little Deeper? You know, in-depth, as one of the ‘audition’ pieces you submit to CeeCee?”

Georgina gasps. “Oh my God. I would love to do that! Do you think she’d say yes?”

“If you meet her and charm the hell out of her, I sure do. Which is why I invited Isabel and her new fiancé to the party on Saturday night. I figured it would be the perfect opportunity for you to get her to say yes to an in-depth interview.”

Georgina bolts to a sitting position in the bed. Apparently, she’s too excited about this idea to remain horizontal. “So, Isabel said she’d come to the party?”

“Yup. She also said she’s excited to meet you and talk about a potential interview.”

Georgina squeals. “You’ve already floated a possible interview with me?”

“Yep. To be clear, it’s not a sure thing. You’re going to have to convince her you’ve got the chops to write something worth her investment of time and image. And even if she winds up giving you an interview, you’re going to have to finesse her to get something that will be on-brand for Dig a Little Deeper. For all her social media presence, Isabel is actually an extremely guarded person. Very curated, if you know what I mean. Too image-conscious for her own good. But if anyone can break down Isabel’s walls and peel her onion, it’s you, Georgina Ricci.”

Elation washes over Georgina’s face, followed immediately by determination. “By God, I’m going to make this happen.”

I chuckle. “I don’t doubt that for a minute. The way you handled Leonard today blew me away. If today had been a music demo, I would have signed you on the spot.”

She leans down and kisses me. “Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“And thank you for trying to arrange this incredible opportunity for me. I can’t believe it.”

“You’re welcome. I cracked the door open for you, baby. Now, kick that fucker wide open.”

“Oh, I will.” She bites her lower lip for a moment, her mind visibly teeming with thoughts. “Are you surprised she’s getting married?”

“Yes and no. It’s sudden. But she’s always wanted to get married.”

Her eyes narrow. “How do you feel about it?”

“About her getting married? I’m happy for her. Of course.”

“No, but I mean... aren’t you a tiny bit upset?”

“About . . .?”

“Isabel getting married.”

I pull a face like that’s an asinine comment. “Not at all.”

She stares at me for a beat, like she’s a psychic, trying to read my mind. And then, “You know that feeling when someone is driving away, and you suddenly realize you forgot to tell them something important? So you yell and wave at the car and maybe run after it down the street, but they don’t see you... and then,

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