Chapter 78 Reed
REED
Ipeek down my street again, awaiting the appearance of Georgina’s convertible turning the corner.
But, still, nothing. For the past ten minutes, I’ve been standing in front of my iron gate, staring down my street like a Labrador awaiting his owner’s return from work while trying not to freak out.
I think the “XO” Georgina tacked onto the end of her “see you soon!” text message, combined with the exclamation point she used, and the fact that she said she’s coming “home,” meant she’s coming here to forgive me completely and pick up where we left off.
But, when it comes to Georgina, and her temper, I never know for sure what she’s going to do or how she’s going to react.
For all I know, after watching that surveillance video—and the whopper of a kiss I laid on Isabel—she’s coming here to take a golf club to another one of my cars.
Either way, I’m surely going to have to field a thousand questions from Georgina about the confusing, and highly intriguing, things Isabel and I talked about in that video.
Things like “Troy” and “blackmail” and “Francesca” and “secret.” All the things that initially kept me from sending that damned surveillance video to Georgina in the first place, even though I knew it would prove I’d been telling Georgina the truth about that kiss, and what it made me realize.
Although, yeah, if I’m being honest, I was also highly skittish about Georgina witnessing the actual kiss.
It’s one thing for me to tell Georgina I “only kissed” Isabel, and to let Georgina imagine it, and another thing for her to see it, and get confirmation that, to put it mildly, that smooch wasn’t a brotherly peck.
I lean against my gatepost, staring down my street. But, still, there’s no sign of Georgina. I look at my watch. She must have hit traffic. Welcome to LA.
I’ve never told a woman I love her before.
But, today, for the first time in my life, I’ve told Georgina.
Albeit, indirectly, through that video. Plus, I called her “my love” in my text.
Which I’m now thinking might have been a bit premature.
I think Georgina’s “XO” meant she feels the same way I do.
I think Georgina is coming here to say she’s mine.
But after this torturous week, and a lifetime of shit hitting fans in ways I never expected, I should know by now, better than anyone, not to count my chickens.
Hallelujah! I see Georgina’s car turning onto my street! As she draws near, I wave and smile broadly, the sight of her glorious face sending my heart galloping and my skin buzzing. And, in return, Georgina shoots me a wide, beaming smile that tells me everything I need to know.
She’s home.
She forgives me.
She loves me.
She’s all mine.
I know we’re going to need to talk in detail about everything, including the mysterious things Isabel and I talked about on that video.
But, after seeing the smile on Georgina’s face, I know we’ll talk about all of it later.
First things first, I’m going to take that woman into my arms and kiss the hell out of her and tell her I love her, to her face, while looking into her gorgeous hazel eyes.
And then, I’m going to take her upstairs and show her, with every inch of me, how much she means to me.
Shaking with excitement, I tap out the gate code and wave Georgina’s little car through, and then sprint after her tailgate as she traverses my circular driveway and comes to a stop in front of my house.
When Georgina’s car door opens, I’m already there, my arms extended.
I swoop her into my embrace, and every atom of my body electrifies at the touch of her.
“Welcome home,” I murmur into her lips, just before crushing my mouth to hers.
As our tongues tangle, a tsunami of love slams into me.
Followed immediately by a hurricane of pent-up arousal.
My heart thundering in my chest, I disengage from Georgina’s hungry lips and take her magnificent, tear-streaked face in my palms. “I love you, Georgina. I love you madly. Completely. And only you.”
Her smile is beaming. Radiant. Breathtaking. “I love you, too. Only you.”
“I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’ll never do it again.”
She smiles. “We’ll call it a fair trade: a kiss for a Ferrari.”
I chuckle. “Deal.”
“That’s a one-time deal, by the way.”
“It’ll never happen again.”
She arches her eyebrow. “Can we talk about that kiss, though? Holy hell, Reed.”
I grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
She smiles. “It’s all right. What you said right afterward made it all worth it.” She winks. “But just barely.”
Sighing with relief, I kiss her again. And, soon, our kiss becomes voracious.
I scoop her up like a bride, making her squeal, and stride into my house like a stallion running for the barn.
When I get to my staircase, I take the steps two at a time and then barrel down the hallway toward my bedroom, whispering the entire time to Georgina about how much I’ve missed her, how much I want her, need her, love her, can’t wait to touch her, lick her, fuck her.
In my bedroom, I lay Georgina down onto my bed and begin energetically ripping off her clothes, and then mine.
In short order, we’re a naked blur of greedy fingers and lips and tongues.
Warm, bare skin against warm, bare skin.
In record speed, I make her come with my fingers, which, not surprisingly, makes her beg me to fuck her.
But not yet.
I open the second drawer of my nightstand and retrieve something I’ve been keeping there for this exact moment. I return to Georgina, holding up her ruby necklace. And the moment she sees it, she gasps in shock.
“You went back to Tiffany’s to get it for me?”
I chuckle. “No, baby. I never returned it.”
Her jaw drops comically, making me laugh.
“Sit up. I want you to wear it while I fuck you. My Ruby Queen.”
“You’ve already done too much. I can’t accept that.”
“Sweetheart, look at my boner. I don’t have patience for this conversation. Please, let’s fast-forward to the part where you let me have what I want.”
She sits up, sighing. “Oh, Reed.”
After clasping the necklace around her neck, I kiss her neck and shoulder.
And then, finally, do the thing I’ve been fantasizing about for half my life.
I pull Georgina on top of me and guide her to ride me, and as she does, as her body gyrates, and her hips snap back and forth, and her tits bounce with her movement, I tell her, over and over again, that I love her.
And it’s the best sex of my life, even without the ropes and toys and harnesses.
We’re fire together, Georgina and me. We’re a pyre.
I sit up as her body moves on top of mine and devour her pebbled nipples with fervor.
I grab her ass and bite her neck. Inhale her scent and lick the hollow at the base of her neck.
I’m delirious with desire for her. Overwhelmed to feel white-hot lust intertwining with all-encompassing love inside me, for the first time in my life.
Oh, God, the sensation of loving to fuck someone, while actually loving them, as a person.
I mean, totally and completely and unconditionally loving everything about them, and knowing they love me back.
.. oh, fuck. I can’t get enough of this sublime pleasure.
I run my fingertips over the dripping gems around Georgina’s neck.
And then caress her tits and pinch her hard nipples, and suck on her breasts and neck and gorgeous bottom lip, again and again.
I grip her hair and run my teeth along her jawline, wanting to physically consume her.
To ingest her into my body and keep her there, beholden to me, and only me.
I want to fuse with her, in every way possible.
I want to capture this beautiful butterfly in my net and never, ever let her go.
My nerve endings on fire, my body lit up, I gaze up at the mirror above us and tell her, in graphic detail, what she looks like as she fucks me.
I tell her about the way her ass is moving as she rides me. I tell her she’s my queen.
Finally, Georgie screams my name and comes, hard, and when I feel her muscles clenching and rippling with her orgasm, it’s sheer bliss for me.
A direct line to a God I’ve never believed in, until now.
I give myself permission to let go. And not just physically.
To let go of fear. I’m hers now. Committed to giving her all of me now, no matter what.
When our bodies slacken, Georgina and I flop onto the bed, onto our backs, and stare at our smiles—and our heaving, panting, naked bodies—in the overhead mirror.
Wracked with euphoria, I grab Georgina’s hand. “Please tell me you’re home now.”
She smiles seductively. “Are you inviting me to stay here, for however long?”
“No, I’m begging you. No limitations or expiration date. As in, I want you to go down to the DMV, right after we get back from New York, and change the address on your driver’s license.”
She opens her mouth and eyes as wide as they’ll go.
“Yep,” I say, chuckling at her shocked expression. “This is DMV-serious, baby.”
Georgina bites her lip. “You’re serious? Because I’m not willing to go back down to the DMV again any time soon. It’s hell down there.”
I sit up and look down at her. “Seriously, Georgie. I’m in it for the long haul with you. I’m sure. Please, tell me you’re sure, too. It’s you and me, from now on.”
She nods. “I’m sure.”
I lean down and kiss her. But then pull away excitedly and grab my phone off the nightstand with a loud hoot.
“What?”
“I’m telling Owen to get your bike back here ASAP. I want the Ginger Rogers of Spin to start kicking my ass again, as soon as possible.”
Georgina sighs like a Disney princess. “I’m so happy.”
“I’m also telling Owen to add you to my flight tomorrow.”
“Don’t do that. I mean, I’d love to travel with you. But I’ve already got a flight booked. No sense wasting money.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re coming with me. We’re flying first class.”
“Oooh, I’ve never flown first class!” She giggles. “Okay, I’m coming with you.”
We both laugh.
As I get settled onto my back again, she turns onto her side and drags a fingertip down the center groove of my abs. “So... I hate to say this and ruin the afterglow... but I think, before we get too swept away on endorphins, we should talk.”
My stomach clenches with dread. Shit. Here we go.
Isabel’s secrets weren’t mine to reveal.
But what choice did I have but to send that video?
If I’m going to love Georgina, all the way, then I’ve got to trust her to choose me, and our love, over the chance to use the information on that video to try to land her dream job.
Or, worse, to try to destroy Isabel out of sheer spite.
I know Georgie didn’t fully understand anything she heard on that video, but she heard enough to realize Isabel has a secret.
And that some guy named Troy blackmailed her because of it.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I say. “We definitely need to talk.”
Georgina looks stressed. “I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, Reed. Not anymore. No more lies—even if it’s only through omission. It’s time to come clean about everything.”
“Yeah, I agree,” I say, my words overlapping with Georgina’s, as she says, “I need to talk to you about Troy.”
Wow. She’s jumping right in. Shit. I take a deep breath. “Yeah, I figured you’d ask me about him. In fact, I’m sure you’ve got a whole bunch of questions about the confusing stuff you heard on that video. But before I explain who ‘Troy’ is, I need to emphasize that—”
“Oh, no,” Georgina says. She lays a palm on my chest, pausing me. “When I said it’s time to come clean about Troy, I meant me. I need to come clean about Troy.”
I blink several times, utterly confused. Did I hear that right?
Georgina leans onto her elbow and props her head with her fist. “What you and Isabel talked about wasn’t confusing to me at all. I already know all about Troy Eklund.”
“Uh.” I blink again, my synapses exploding. “What, exactly, do you know?”
“Everything. The fact that he slept with Isabel. And figured out Isabel’s secret—which I also know about, by the way.
I know he blackmailed Isabel. Well, technically, he blackmailed you, and you gallantly paid him off in exchange for him signing a confidential settlement of his lawsuit.
” She shrugs. “I know everything, Reed.”
My brain feels like it’s melting. “How...?” But I’m too shocked to complete the sentence.
Georgina continues, “Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything.
I’d have pretended to be clueless, so you wouldn’t fully realize the true nature of the demon you’ve fallen in love with.
But if we’re truly going to make this relationship work, if I’m really going to brave the DMV for you—then I feel like I should come clean to you about how clever and diabolical and relentless and.
.. brilliant... I truly am.” She winks. “I know you’ve suspected all along I’m Bobby Fischer.
But I feel like, before I put your address onto my driver’s license, which is, to me, as serious as a relationship can be, I should come clean and tell you that.
.. no matter how much you’ve been thinking I’m Bobby Fischer? Oh, honey. You have no freakin’ idea.”