Page 34 of The Liar's Reckoning

I’m a horny guy, admittedly. I wouldn’t have approached Katia if I hadn’t known I could fuck pretty much any man, anywhere, any time. It’s not a job for everyone, but I have a ton of experience. My boyfriend in high school was a real horn dog. I can’t say we ever got to know each other except how to make each other come so hard we blacked out. He definitely got me hooked on sex, and I’m not getting enough of it. One client a week who may or may not be any good in bed does not a happy Silas make.

Dragging Graham into the woods this morning was mehitting a minor breaking point. Cornering him in the locker room shower later might be another one.

And now it’s all I can think about. “You need help lifting this?” I ask, letting my frustration out in the sharp impatience of my tone.

He eyes the seventy-five pound barbell. “I think I can get it.”

“Let’s go.”

Using the proper technique I taught him in our first session, he bends at the knees and hefts the weight using the strength of his legs. I spot him from the front, moving behind him once he’s upright and hoisting the bar to his shoulders. His ass clenches, which I don’t miss a second of, and I bite my lip not to let out a groan. “Give me ten and go slow on the rise. Focus on your glutes.”

The first set is like being edged. He gives me a whole show, complete with grunting and cheek squeezes that have me picturing all kinds of things. I’m tempted to make him go another ten just so I can keep visualizing my cock sliding through those clenching globes. I am, very much, an ass man.

But I switch him to calf raises instead, since he needs to build those muscles to keep from hurting his shins when we run.

Whenhe runs, I mean. I don’t need to be inventing a running buddy after two jogs through the park.

“Burns,” he hisses as he raises to his toes a seventh time.

“It’s supposed to.”

“I know, but…” he trails off, and I don’t make him complete the sentence. Once he’s done with the set, I help him lower the bar. He wipes his face and hair with a towel and chugs from his water bottle. Some of it drips into his beard, and I stare at the drop before he wipes it away. “What?” he finally asks.

“What?”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Like how?”

“Like you’re trying to figure out where to bury my body.”

I laugh, surprised. “Is that what it looks like?”

“More or less.”

“I don’t wanna kill you,” I tell him.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I was just admiring your form.”

He half-grins. Charming fucker. “Yeah?”

“It’s improved,” I tell him.

“Thanks. Should I go again?”

“Be my guest.”

12

GRAHAM

The workout kicks my ass. On top of running this morning, I’m spent. My body feels about as substantial as a wet dish towel. I flop back onto the mat when he tells me time’s up. “Thank fuck.”

“Gotta make sure you get your money’s worth.”

I run my hand over my abs, trying to feel for any new muscle definition there, but it’s hasn’t even been two weeks. I don’t know how long it took for Silas to get his immaculate washboard, but probably longer than that.

---