Page 103 of The Liar's Reckoning

I work like hell to swallow. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t make me do this without you.”

Frowning, I tilt my head. “I’m right here, Graham.”

“I can’t believe it’s been less than twenty-four hours…”

Since we were having phone sex, and he told me he loved me? Yeah. Funny how life has a way of turning everything completely fucking upside down like that. “Nothing’s changed for me,” I tell him.

“It might be a few days before I can see you.”

“Don’t worry about that. Please.”

“No, I do worry about it. You’re the only thing…” He presses his mouth closed and shakes his head, a few tears falling silently down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

I step close to him and put my hands on his hips. He wraps his arms around me again, and I do the same. We stay like that a long time. His tears dampen my shirt on the shoulder, but I don’t mind. I’ve found some steadiness inside me, allowing me to be strong. To be a safe place for him to fall—or fall apart.

It’s not remotely sexual. Even when we eventually kiss, there’s nothing firm below either of our waists to grind against. Our kisses are tender and soft. Lips mostly, and breath.

It’s enough.

“I love you,” I whisper, reminding him.

“I love you.”

My hand holds the nape of his neck, and I press my forehead and nose to his. “We’ll get through this.”

He nods, his eyes closed and his breath heavy.

“Whatever you need, I’ll understand,” I tell him. “No judgment.”

“I needyou,” he whispers urgently.

“I’m a given. I’m yours. Please don’t doubt that.”

“I have to go, but I don’t want to.”

I kiss him softly again. “Call me. Text me. Whenever. Whatever you need.”

“Silas, you don’t need this shit…”

“I want it,” I tell him. And then I admit something enormous. “There’s nothing I want more than you.”

His answering kiss is firmer, open, and I sink into him. My dick notices this one, but I refuse to try anything here. It’s evidence of our chemistry, for sure, that I can get hard for him under circumstances this horrible.

When I notice he’s hard for me, too, though, it makes the kiss nearly impossible to stop. “Fuck,” I groan helplessly just before his tongue enters my mouth again.

“Give me one good thing,” he says, his hands now moving beneath my shirt, up my sides.

Noooo… It’s not right. No orgasm in the world is good enough to turn today into anything less than the worst day of his life. It’d be more likely to make us both feel like shit than help him feel any better. “We can’t.”

He kisses me again, like a plea, and Jesus, he’s hard to resist when all I want to do is shove him to the bed and make him forget everything bad that’s ever happened to him.

He pulls away first, apologizing.

After taking a moment to splash some cold water on his face and take a few deep breaths hunched over the counter in the bathroom, he peeks outside the door. “All right, we’re good.”

We walk out, maintaining a respectable distance on our way back to the elevator. The hallway is quiet save for a housekeeper pushing a cart past us, and suddenly, fiercely, the only thing I want in the word is to reach out and hold his hand.

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