Chapter 4Elis had spent the rest of the day sitting at his small table by the window in his flat, chewing the end of a cigarette and wondering exactly what the f**k he was doing, dragging himself back into Latham’s life, even if it was covertly.
He looked across the table and saw the phantom memory of Latham sitting there, his mouth twisted in distaste after sampling Elis’s punch-in-the-throat coffee. Then later, Elis kneeling at his feet, face pressed against the warm fabric of his trousers, breathing him in, his scent, and savoring the calm rhythmic stroke of his hand through Elis’s hair.
Elis shivered, pulling himself away from the memory just in time to stop his cigarette from burning down to his lips. He stabbed the stub into the ashtray and made to light another. He held it between
