Page 21 of The Liar's Reckoning

“That’s a bold statement,” I say, calling him out as I stand.

“I promise I can control myself.”

I check his crotch to determine whether that’s true or not. Nothing’s showing. I sigh. “Fine. Tell me about your fitness goals.”

“I’d like a body like yours.”

I have to take a second with that one. From the awkward guy drooling on my cock to the beast who fucked me into a headboard, to the horny dude who couldn’t string a sentence together this morning to this—cocky, confident, flirting—United States senator.

He smiles, and it’s no wonder he won the state last week. He’s more than a decent looking white guy, which had been my initial impression. He’s actually hot. Very. And maybe that’s because I know what he’s capable of. But so does he. He made me come twice. He doesn’t know how hard that is, but I do.

Still, I don’t want to like him. He’s a Republican and a liar. Hisentire life is a lie. “Don’t flirt with me. That’s not how this is gonna work.” I mean to sound firm, but it comes out harsh.

“How does it work, then?” he asks.

I try to be more professional, but I’m not sure how successful I am. “You want to tone up your abs? Get some more definition in your arms? I’m here for that. But this is business. You want anything else from me, you go through Katia.”

His eyebrows lift. “What does it take to earn your free time?”

“Trust. Senator.”

He clears his throat and finally drops some of the bravado. “Understood.”

8

GRAHAM

Iresolve not to “go through Katia.” For one thing—I can’t afford Silas’s rates now that I’m no longer practicing law. Making sure Avery has everything her heart desires to live out her Upper East Side dream isn’t cheap.

I could sell my Chelsea apartment, but its value keeps going up. I’d hate to let it go and in a year realize I could have made another hundred grand or more from the sale. Still, it’s a solid backup if I ever need one. Getting laidisn’ta reason to activate my emergency plan.

Besides, I’m not that guy. The night I hired him was a one-time thing—out of character. I was relatively content before I ran into Silas again, and there’s no reason that has to change as long as I stay focused on my life’s current path. It’s a good life—free of loose ends and packed with potential.

But then there’s the bench press.

A seemingly innocuous piece of gym equipment meant to serve one purpose. The thing is, when I’m on it, and Silas is spotting me, I can see up his shorts. The way to avoid this, of course, would be not to look when he leans in to make an adjustment or help me rack the barbell, but my eyes have a will of their own. Hewears the kind of gym shorts that have compression shorts underneath. They’re white and mostly transparent.

The outline of his dick makes its way into my line of sight more often than not as I’m struggling with my upper body strength, which is especially challenging when my cock gets hard.

He never fails to notice. The sight of it elicits heavy sighs from him during our forty-five minute sessions and whatever small talk we might have been exchanging comes to an abrupt halt.

“Sorry,” I always say.

“Don’t worry about it,” he typically responds, sounding exhausted and put out.

By our fifth session, he’s straight up annoyed.

“Is it the movement itself doing it or something else?” he comes out and asks.

“I can see up your shorts,” I admit.

“Oh.” At that, he excuses himself, is gone for three minutes, and returns with sweatpants on over said shorts. “Better?”

No, I want to tell him, but I nod and try to look grateful.

“Have you been keeping up with your cardio? I don’t feel like your endurance is improving the way it should be.”

I am breathing pretty heavy for someone who can only bench press fifty pounds. “I’m not really sure what to do for cardio. I get bored.”

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