Page 44 of The Liar's Reckoning

I don’t expect him to follow me, and he doesn’t. When I return twenty minutes later, he doesn’t even look up from the desk.

I clear my throat to get his attention. He’s got a point. I don’t want it to be like this, either—knowing each other the way we do and acting like strangers. If he can’t say it, then I can. I decided this much while I was out.

I clear my throat. His eyes flick to me and then away, but I have his attention.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “Things have been strange, and I didn’t mean what I said—about not wanting to know you.”

He swallows and glances up at me, for longer this time.

“For what it’s worth,” I say slowly, “I wish I’d made different decisions, but I didn’t. But I don’t regret anything with you. I wouldn’t change it.”

He looks grim. Resigned. “I guess it isn’t worth much, huh?”

I don’t think he’s trying to be cruel, but the words land heavily, regardless. “I guess not.”

“Goodnight, Senator.”

I back away from his small desk. “Goodnight.”

15

SILAS

Ithink I know how I got here. I even think I understand why. What I don’t understand is what made me think it was a good idea.

Ben is still asleep. I have a pounding headache—the result of far too many fruity shots. I don’t remember everything, but I know the lingering aftertaste of cum in my mouth means I went farther than I meant to or should have. Sleeping over? Well, that was a serious fuck up.

I need to get out of here.

If Ben wakes up, and I’m in his bed, he’ll start making eggs or some shit, and all of a sudden, I might have a boyfriend again. I’ll have gotten back together with the ex that took a sledgehammer to my heart, and I refuse to be that guy.

I accepted his apologies—those all came out last night before I got wasted, but well on my way to drunk. Then there was dancing. There was grinding. There was his warm mouth on my neck kissing and biting hard enough to leave marks. There was muscle memory of being held, and the way I always want to hold back. My toxic trait is I can’t wrap my arms around anyone without wanting more.

This much more wasn’t what I had in mind, though.

I slide out of bed, trying to transfer my weight as subtly as possible. Somehow, I still have underwear on. There’s a cum stain on them, but they’re on, and my ass feels unused. Ben doesn’t stir as I stand and gather my clothes, wallet, keys, and phone. I need to take a piss, but I’ll hold it. It’s more important to get the fuck away from him—from his smooth talking and his even smoother skin. I don’t look back, too afraid I’ll see him asleep and forget why I’m leaving.

Once I’m in the living room, I dress quickly, leaving my boots unlaced until I’m safely in the hallway outside his apartment.

Deciding to splurge on a Lyft, I notice it’s not quite seven a.m. Good. I have time to get a run in. Sweat last night off and clear my head. I need to sort out what the fuck I was thinking or—better question—why I decided I wanted to stop thinking so bad.

Although, I already know the answer to that, don’t I?

It’s Graham. He’s fucking me up as badly as Ben ever did, and I don’t get it. My attraction to him is messed up, and it’s only getting worse now that he told me he regrets nothing. I was out of line trying to stop him Tuesday night when he was trying so hard to get away from me, but my need for answers overrode my better judgment, and it paid off.

Despite his lack of regret, I have plenty. My tongue has been too sharp with him, my reactions unpredictable. I don’t know why I get the way I get around him.

Other than that one moment the other night, he’s been nothing but kind. Patient to the point of snapping. I’ve been…

I’ve been acting like I hate him, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I hate that I want him the way I do. I hate that I want to ruin him like crazy. Wreck the shit out of him. Use him until he’s damn near unusable anymore. Maybe hate isn’t the right word. I resent him for making me want him the way I do. I resent him for being irresistible.

But fucking around with a married U.S. senator? What would Chris say? Or Drew? They’d think I was a fool.

My interest in Graham is more than physical—I can admit that, but I’m not stupid enough to think we could have anything more than sex. If he were willing to give me another chance, I wouldn’t try to complicate things with teasing or stupid games. I’d be straightforward. There’s no chance of a future for him and me. My broken heart likes the idea of that in a perverse sort of way.

It’s not that I don’t have enough sex in my life—opportunities abound, and it doesn’t take a lot to get me off.But…my sex life is far from satisfying. It was good with him, and sue me, but I want to know if that was a fluke.

If it wasn’t—it could be good. Possiblyreallyfucking good.

---