Page 19 of The Liar's Reckoning

I lift my brows.

He presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Never mind. Thanks for bringing all this up.”

I drop my gaze but wish I hadn’t. It snags on the way to the floor, caught on the tent in his revealing pants. I blink quickly and look away. Not many nights in my career as an escort stand out, but I remember my night with him quite well.Five stars.

And I hadn’t been lying or trying to flatter him. He’d fucked me good. So good, I’d been sore the next day. So good, I would have come hands-free, but when I watched him orgasm, I hadn’t been able to help myself from coming with him.

I haven’t had sex that good since.

It’s a shame all that chemistry had to be with a politician who’s married to a lie.

It took months of having sex with Ben before we were that good together. I sigh at the senator’s erection. What a waste.

“You’re welcome,” I say, rolling down the hall with my empty dolly.

Christian isasleep on the sofa bed when I get to our apartment in the East Village that morning. After filling a glass of water, I check out the other bedrooms to figure out where to put myself for the day.

One of them is empty. I enter it, closing the door behind me, and strip naked for a shower. The subway ride from work built up a lot of frustration, and I found myself reliving the good old days with Ben. Back before he blindsided me, told me I wasn’t enough, and moved to London for work.

The upside is I don’t have to worry about running into him anywhere, but I miss when things were good between us. Before my mom got sick, and my schedule got all fucked up, and we were able to spend time together. Before the escort job came along and turned sex into a chore.

This isn’t me romanticizing my night with Graham Lawther—I promise. I know exactly what I do for a living, and some clients and I are more compatible than others—I get it. But thisisme wishing my life hadn’t turned me so cynical. I used to be fun. I used to dance and laugh and be loud and carefree. I used to hide nothing—living out and proud in New York. I used to have gay friends who made me feel safe and supported. And I used to have Ben who was the best kisser in the fucking world to go home with.

Today, I’ve got eight hours to sleep before I have to be at the gym and a hard on for a Republican senator who made me come so forcefully, a drop of my own semen hit my tongue.

I jerk off in the shower to a fantasy of fishing that erection out of those gray sweats and putting it to good use.

While I watch my cum swirl down the drain, I allow myself the luxury of wondering what my life might look likeafter.

My mom won’t live forever, not even close. I’ll still need to help out my aunt and cover final expenses, but one of these days, I won’t have to sell my body to rich men to get by. I’m not ashamed of the work I do, it’s not about that. It’s about having a real sex life, and someone who actually cares about me again. Someone to be faithful to. Someone to wrap my arms around at night. Goddamn, am I getting old and boring or what?

Drew is in the bed when I get out of the shower, and he’s already fast asleep. Fucker.

I shake my head, pull on a pair of sweats and get in anyway. He’s hogging the covers, but I manage to wrestle a few inches back.

He groans and shifts, making slightly more room for me to get comfortable. We all know the drill. I set an alarm, plug in my phone on the nightstand, and close my eyes.

When I open them again, the alarm is blaring, and Drew is elbowing me in the back. “Turn that shit off.”

I hit snooze and roll over, shoving his arm away but pressing my forehead to the spot between his shoulder blades.

“What are you doing, dude?”

“Snoozing. Ten minutes of human contact isn’t gonna kill you. Just shut up and give me this. I was here first this morning. You took the bed.”

“Yeah, I heard you in the shower. Sounded fun.”

I snort and let my eyes drift shut again. He doesn’t complain until my alarm goes off for the second time. “No more,” he says. “Go away, I’ve got two more hours.”

I get out of bed, pack my gym bag, change clothes, and leave Drew alone in the bedroom. Christian is still on the sofa, but he’s got it in couch mode now. His ear buds are in, and he’s writing in a notebook. With his dark blonde hair half-covering his eyes, he gives me half a grin before looking back down at his work.

I put together a protein shake and sit down with him to drink it before I head out.

He gives me the honor of his attention. His dark blue eyes are heavy-lidded and sleepy. No one ever sleeps well on the sofa bed.

“You don’t have work today?” I ask.

“Two days off,” he says. “What’s your schedule like?”

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