Page 74 of The Liar's Reckoning

He works me through it, nipping at my lips and continuing to move with me as the explosions keep coming. He’s right behind me. With one, bed shaking shudder, he pants through his own release before our bodies relax against each other and we pick up the kiss at a softer, more eyes-rolling-to-the-back-of-the-head-because-it-feels-so-fucking-good pace.

Eventually, we shuck our clothes, do a cursory clean up and wrap ourselves up in each other again with our spent cocks and lazy mouths. “What about your emails?” I manage to ask him.

“Did you want to be held or not?”

“I do want to be.”

“Then just let me.”

I nod and let him, safe in his arms because I already know how our story ends.

24

GRAHAM

There’s guilt, of course, but there’s also the way I feel about Silas, and overnight, those feelings begin to eclipse everything else. It starts that morning in the Chelsea apartment where we kiss, and he says he wants to see me more often. That he doesn’t want another week to pass with no contact—he wantsmore. He wants me to come back to the gym.

“In public?” I ask.

“Humor me. I’ll be good.”

“Okay.” It’s easy to agree to. It’s not as though I ever stopped wanting to see him. Working out together provides its own set of physical challenges, some more innocent than others, but it feels like the least I can do. It’s not as if I have much to offer him, but I want to give him all that I can for as long as I can. The urge comes from an entirely different place than it does when I think of what I want for Avery.

I owe Avery a life. I made promises to her.

With Silas, I don’t feel any obligations. I only wanthim. I want the way he looks at me and the way he touches me. The way he seems to have surrendered to the fate of us.

Working out with him is different now. It’s fun. I recognize his teasing for what it is, and I also recognize when he’s hitting on me. He makes me laugh and blush with expert efficiency, and I would never have known he could smile as much as he does.

If he’s not genuinely happy, he’s at least in a better mood than I’ve ever seen him. By Wednesday, I’ve given him a key to the Chelsea apartment, and I begin to bring my work there in the mornings after Avery leaves for Pilates or coffee with friends.

Silas doesn’t spend nights there, but he never fails to meet me. Sometimes he sleeps, and I work. Mostly we have sex. Mind-blowing, intense, soul-wrenching sex. When Thanksgiving comes, it’s the longest I’ve gone without seeing him since he texted me that Monday morning and changed everything.

On Black Friday, I text him in a near panic because Avery is convinced she’s ovulating. He tells me to call him when I get a minute alone. I hole up in the bathroom that night and dial his number. He answers on the first ring.

“Is this about getting her pregnant or is it about me?” he asks without even saying hello.

“Both,” I admit.

“If you think about it, getting her pregnant means you won’t have to have sex with her again anytime soon.”

“What about you?” I ask.

“Are you breaking up with me already?”

“No.”

“I know what your life is, Graham. I wouldn’t be with you if I couldn’t handle it.”

“But you’re not with me. You’re in Queens.”

“I can get away. You want to talk to Avery—see if she minds if I join?”

I bark out an unexpected laugh.

“I could sit on your face, teach you how to eat me out while she rides your dick, and you wouldn’t even see her.”

“Jesus,” I breathe. We haven’t done that yet. We’re not verygood at foreplay. The thought makes me want him even more. I still don’t think I’m the kind of lover he deserves—still wonder what the hell he sees in me, and I’m more than willing to try anything.

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