Page 47 of The Liar's Reckoning

I take my phone out of my pocket and type out a text. His phone buzzes when I hit send.

He reads the words on his screen.

Me

Can we go someplace warmer instead?

He seems to read it several times before finally glancing up from his screen to me. “Yeah.”

Okay, so maybe he meant what he said in his earlier message. Maybe he is easy.

I manage to hail the first cab that passes, and he and I hop in. The warm air from the heater makes him shudder. “Where are we going?”

“My old apartment.” I give the driver the Chelsea address and sit back, turning to look at Silas. He swipes off his beanie, leaving his hair a mess of static and half-dry strands. He smells like he just showered.

“Spent the night with your ex, huh?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“You do that often?”

“He’s been in London. So no. First time for me. Not sure what I was thinking. I mean, I was pretty drunk.”

The instantaneous jealousy is like a nuclear blast. I want to push my way out of the cab and storm away from him. Whatever this is—whatever he wants from me or I want from him isn’t normal or healthy. It’s corrosive. Toxic.

Stupid.

So fucking stupid. I could flush my entire future down the toilet in the space of a sunrise, but all I can think about is how much I want to slide my hand between his thick, muscular thighs, run it over his crotch and see if what he said was true—does he really want me? It’s been a few days since Avery took advantage of my erection, and we haven’t had a repeat of the event, though I know it’s only a matter of time. I can practically hear her biological clock ticking.

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” I say, changing the subject so I don’t explode.

“I wasn’t expecting to text you, but I guess I got sick of the misunderstandings.”

I assess him as coldly as I can manage, my need to keep myguard up around him has become a survival mechanism. “Are you prepared to be clearer?”

“I am,” he says.

“How?”

“When we get wherever we’re going, I’ll make sure you understand exactly what I want.”

“Wanna tell me about your ex?” I ask, though I don’t know why. Maybe I’m a masochist.

“Not really. Do you need to hear about it?”

The jealousy isn’t going anywhere, so I might as well get my need to know more out of the way. “Sure.”

Silas pulls off his gloves and keeps his gaze on his hands. “His name’s Ben. He’s an architect. He moved to London about a year ago and broke things off. It came out of nowhere. I thought we were good, but he was ready to move on.”

“Except not,” I say.

Silas’s dark eyes meet mine sharply. “Apparently he wasn’t a big fan of London. Thing is, I’m not sure he’s a big fan of me, either.”

“And yet…”

“Right, well, old habits.”

“And you say you didn’t see it coming?”

---