Page 219 of The Liar's Reckoning

“That’s the afterglow. It wears off, you know?”

“I know you’re kind of a dick sometimes, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.”

“It certainly doesn’t seem to.”

“It’s worth it to me, Silas. And I don’t know if you believe that, or if it’s gonna take more time or more effort on my part, but I’ve never missed anything the way I miss coming home to you.”

“What took you so long?” I ask, some of the hurt feelings gathering force in my chest.

“After what I did, I never wanted to presume there was anything I could do to have you forgive me.”

“Graham…” I sigh. “Shit.”

“And I might be presuming too much now.”

“You’re not,” I assure him. “I do want to forgive you. I want to be with you, and I want you to know I can love you better than I did before.”

He stares at me expectantly, like he’s waiting for me to elaborate. So, I do.

“I could have been stronger for you. I could have believed in you. I could have reminded you how strong I thought you already were.”

“You did,” he whispers. “You do.” Graham puts his arm around my chest and cuddles close. I wrap my own arm around his back because I like the feel of him like this. I always have.

“Why do you sound sad?” he asks.

Do I?I run my fingers through his thick hair as I take an internal inventory. My chest is tight, my breaths shallow and unsatisfying. I think back to when I met his father. I’ve met a lot of extremely wealthy people through the years working on the Upper East Side. I’ve fucked or been fucked by a lot of them, too.

Money and power has always struck me as a toxic combination. For people born to it, it sets up a sense of entitlement. They’re cheap. More than once I’ve heard the phrase—that should be included—when asked to perform an à la carte service—like letting someone come on my face or fuck me raw. As though it were my job to bend to their whim, regardless of my own limits and boundaries. People who’ve had to work to amass their wealth—new money—they’ll throw out cash like it’s nothing.How much is it to piss on me? I’ll give you two hundred in cash to tie you to the bed.

Graham’s father was both. He made his own fortune, but he’shad it a long time, and it’s not going anywhere—he’s created his own legacy. Throwing money at a problem is his instinct, but the sense of entitlement—the expectation that I’d take it and keep my mouth shut was heavily implied. His reaction when I failed to jump at the bait was mild surprise that made him seem impressed.

But he holds grudges, too. I paid for my refusal. “How will you feel if he never wants to see you again?” I ask.

Graham shifts. “You’re worried about me?”

There was a time—not long ago—when I wanted him to hurt as much as I did. He does, though. He has. I can feel it in the way he clings a little closer, hugs a little longer. Texts a hell of a lot more often. “Maybe.”

“Oh, it’s sweet Silas. I forgot about him.”

I almost smile. “I can see how you would.”

“I like every version of you,” he says.

“Even with my fist in your ass?”

“You’d be surprised how often I’ve gotten off thinking about that night.”

Shit, me, too, although I doubt I’ll put fisting into the regular rotation.

I shouldn’t be thinking about a regular rotation. I’m supposed to be living moment to moment. With the spirit of that in mind, I turn in his arms and give him a long kiss, genuinely surprised at how one stroke of his tongue against mine gets me hard. I’m obsessed with having my mouth on him tonight. All the ways that he’s different—the softer ways and the harder ways—turn me on as much as they make me want to worship him. I’m putty when it comes to him. Dick-whipped among other things.

Plain, fucking obsessed, and increasingly territorial. Seeing the marks I’ve already left on him only makes me want to leave more. He’s mine. Only mine. I don’t want to let him out of my sight. Or my bed.

“I need to fuck you,” I tell him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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