Page 56 of Overdue

“Whatever. Congrats anyway.” I push into a sitting position. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?” I ask.

“Guess who just got picked for the new J’abear fashion shoot?”

“You?”

“Me!” she squeals. “I’m going to be splashed on ads everywhere. This just might be my big break.”

Brontë graduated from college last spring. She decided to try her hand at modeling after a talent scout spotted her in New York while she was interning at a design firm. Mom and Dad had serious qualms about it, but I figured it would be fine for a while. She’s already landed a couple of small runway shows and a campaign for a sports drink.

“Where are you shooting?” I ask.

“We leave for Arizona next week. Do you remember Sara? I introduced you last time you visited. Anyway, she’s also going. It’s going to be so much fun.”

I wonder if this is a good idea. She’s only twenty-two. I guess I was even younger when I moved to the city. But at least I was surrounded by anguished would-be writers, not glamorous models and the men who want them.

“Hey, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you and let you know how it went. Congrats on the book. Bye.”

“Bye,” I say, but she’s already ended the call. I toss my phone back on the nightstand and scoot under the covers.

“Everything okay?” Reed slurs.

“Yeah, just Brontë. She’s heading to Arizona.”

“Mmm.”

“I worry about her. Do you think she’ll be okay jetting all over for modeling jobs? I mean, sometimes she doesn’t make the best decisions.”

“I don’t know,” a grumpy sounding Reed says. He flops over in bed toward me. “I can only keep up with one Caraway sister.” He lands between my thighs with his lips brushing over my ribs. “That one’s on her own.” His lips drift lower, and all thoughts of my sister fly from my head.

If I had known waking up with Reed meant an orgasm nine out of ten times, I would have moved in long ago. Ohhh. That could be the reason I start the day blissfully happy. Makes sense now.

His tongue seeks out my sensitive nub, and my back arches in pleasure. I’ll be eternally grateful to Eliot for suggesting I see what else he can do with it.

“Reed,” I moan.

He chuckles, which makes everything vibrate.

“Reed!” I scream much louder and come on his tongue.

He keeps steady pressure on me while I ride out my orgasm unashamedly on his face. Finally, I’m reduced to a quivering, panting mess, and he rests his head on my stomach. I’ve just slid my hands into his silky, soft hair when there’s banging at the front door.

“It’s the weekend, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbles. “Doesn’t anyone sleep in on the weekend anymore?”

The banging continues, so I slip out from under him to go see who it is. I find the pajama pants I started out in bed with still thrown on the floor next to it. I’m not sure why I even attempt to wear pants to bed. They last about two minutes.

“I’m coming,” I yell when the banging begins again.

“Not anymore,” Reed points out.

I roll my eyes and leave the room. Jerking the front door open, I find Eliot standing on the other side. I would slam it shut in her face, except she’s holding a carrier with coffee cups in it and a bag from Batter-Y-Operated. Reluctantly, I motion for her to enter.

“There’d better be bear claws in that bag,” Reed grouches from the stairs behind me. He’s managed to pull on a pair of jeans before leaving the bedroom. Nothing else, just jeans. My mouth waters at the view. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but nope.

“Go get dressed, Magic Mike,” Eliot says, slapping Reed on the stomach. “You’re going to want to see this.”

He glares at her for a minute before snatching the bag out of her hand and heading back upstairs.

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