Page 4 of The Liar's Reckoning

“There’s also the part of me screaming that I’ve been waiting for this since law school and is extremely impatient.”

I grin. “Waiting for what? Exactly?”

He holds my gaze. “To touch a beautiful, naked man.”

2

GRAHAM

An over-planner by nature, I tried to factor in every eventuality for tonight. Up to and including a sudden inability to speak. I wrote my wishes down on index cards just in case. The first of which says,Please undress. The second says,Lie back on the chaise.

I’ve built tonight up in my head as make or break. There’s a part of me that wonders—even hopes—that being with a man will make me braver. That I’ll be able to end the sham with Avery, come out to my parents, run the senate campaign I really want to run, or tell my father I’m not interested at all in politics and want to go back to practicing law.

But my history of standing up to my parents consists primarily of refusing to eat lamb or veal. I saw how they treated my sister before they kicked her out. When she left, they also cut her off. After that, her life didn’t turn out so great. She’s now an alcoholic with two kids from different fathers, working as a bartender in some fisherman’s village in Maine. She lives in a crappy apartment, drives a piece of shit car, and derives all her joy from hooking up with dudes in the bands who play at her bar on weekends. At least her tubes are tied. Also a sin, apparently.

She’s got balls though, so there are a few things to admire about Theresa. Plus, she doesn’t judge me. She’s the only person in my life who knows I’m not straight. It was even her idea for me to marry Avery, which should end up working out—if I can get this whole gay thing out of my system once and for all.

I need to know what it feels like. What I’m missing. What I’llbemissing in order to be the Lawther’s good Catholic son for the foreseeable future.

Silas is one of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on. His pictures did him justice, but his presence only adds to the effect. With thick, dark hair and dark eyes, sculpted cheekbones and lips that look like they were created with AI to be perfect, I can only imagine what lurks beneath his suit to be discovered. If he’s a personal trainer, I bet it shows.

Saliva gathers in my cheeks, and I swallow it down, eager—too eager—to see what I’ve been missing. What I’ll never have again after tonight. Already I wonder whether my index cards aren’t enough—whether I didn’t think broadly enough about what I might want—require—to take me through the rest of my lie of a life.

“Would you like me to undress?” Silas asks, deferential and polite.

I already hinted I want him naked, so I nod.

Setting his wine aside, he stands slowly, taking a few steps away from the table toward the chaise at the foot of the bed.

It’s extremely quiet in here, ten floors up from Manhattan with only my breathing and pounding pulse filling the void. I should have put music on, figured out how to bluetooth my phone to the television and set a mood, but it’s too late. I’m stuck with silence.

Silas begins by loosening his tie before expertly removing his cufflinks. My cock is already a thick, hard presence in my pants. I drink more wine and do my best to keep my eyes on his face, but they roam obsessively. Down his legs, over his hands, averting tothe carpet and then back to his loosened tie. He sheds his black jacket leaving a pale, gray button down exposing broad shoulders and arms muscular enough to fill out the sleeves.

Our gazes meet again, his hooded and cautious—like he expects I might put a stop to this any second. I give him a slight nod to signal I intend to see at least this part through.

“How am I doing?” he asks.

“Perfect,” I whisper.

A sexy smirk bends his lips, and he slides off his tie. He places it, along with his jacket, on the chaise. His gaze then drops to my lap. “Remember, this is your time. You can do whatever you want with it.”

Like what?Jerk off to the sight of him undressing?

Although, now that he mentions it…

No. I have to maintainsomecontrol. He won’t be the last man I’ll ever be attracted to, and I can’t go around jerking off to every hot guy I pass on the street from now until forever. This is no time to let my base impulses get the best of me. “I understand.”

He begins unbuttoning his shirt deliberately, but not dramatically. The buttons open at a reasonable pace exposing darkly tan, smooth skin and prompting the question from me, “What nationality are you?”

He arches one dark brow as his treasure trail comes into view. “My mother’s half Colombian. Don’t know about my dad, though.”

“Well…nice tan.”

“You say that now. I run shirtless. You’ll see.” With that, he unbuckles his belt.

My visceral reaction to every sensual movement proves I’ve been right about myself all along. I swallow more drool. My cock throbs uselessly against my fly.

Silas removes his shirt, exposing his upper body. Each muscle on his lean torso is perfectly defined—etched. His nipples are dark brown and erect. His arms—fuck—hisarms—are big, onemuscle group curving into the next. No tattoos or piercings, just plain, tan, olive skin dusted in nearly black hair.Gorgeous.

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