Page 126 of Never Forget

“CNN, or any of the major networks,” Blake replies.

Naz finds an app for live news, and as soon as it loads, the top story flashes on the screen. An image of Curtis Howard, with his hands cuffed behind his back stares at us. Two federal agents escort him down the front steps of what I assume is his house. Across the bottom of the screen, a red banner stretches from one side to the other:

BLOGGER CURTIS HOWARD’S HOME RAIDED UNDER SUSPICION OF CONSPIRACY, INCITING VIOLENCE, AND MULTIPLE BOMB THREATS

For several long seconds, neither of us says a word. We just stare at the screen, and then at each other.

“Well, shit.”

After sharing room service in bed, and staring at the news channel until the words and images don’t make sense anymore, we decide we’ve had enough. There’s a lot we don’t know, a lot of behind the scenes details that Cory and Blake tried to fill us in on, but none of it is processing. It’s all too surreal. So we shut out the world together. Naz turned the TV back to painting mode, and I turned both our phones off and hid them away in a drawer so they can’t disturb us. Blake said we have some other things to talk about, but it can wait for a day or so for us to decompress.

Naz fills the tub while I use the bathroom. I think about shaving, but it seems like a pain. Besides, I think Naz likes me a little rough.

When I come out of the bathroom, the room is transformed. Naz has closed the blackout curtains again, and the room is filled with the flickering light of the fireplace and several candles set all around the tub.

The most beautiful thing of all, however, is the man himself. He’s leaning back against the edge of the tub, half submerged in water, bathed in flickering firelight while tendrils of steam rise around his body. He looks ethereal.

“Are you going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to get in here?”

I wrestle with it for a moment.

“It’s a pretty nice view.”

Scraping his teeth over his bottom lip, Naz lifts an arm from the side of the tub and touches his chest. Eyes locked on me, he trails his fingers down between his pecs, down his torso and beneath the surface. The water is slightly cloudy with whatever he put in there, that has the scent of vanilla, sandalwood, and pure sex permeating the air.

He shifts and lets out a soft sound of pleasure, his arm flexing as he slowly strokes himself. I watch, enthralled, as he bends his knees and lifts one leg out of the water, setting it on the edge of the tub. Water drips from his toes and down the arch of his foot, dripping on the stone floor, and I’m suddenly thirsty. I forget everything else—hell, I almost forget how to breathe—when Naz lowers his other hand into the water.

If I drink enough of his bathwater, would I be able to see where his fingers are right now? Would I get to watch him play with that pretty little hole?

“Scott?”

I blink out of a haze, realizing I’ve made my way over to the tub, only to slump over the edge to see better.

Naz pulls his leg back in the water and gets to his knees, leaning forward. I think he might grab my hand or my arm to encourage me to step into the steaming water, but his strong fingers wrap around my rigid dick, sending a jolt through me that wakes me up a little more.

Led by my dick like it’s a leash, I climb into the tub. It’s steamy but not boiling hot like I expected. Naz guides me to straddle his lap.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, eyes bouncing between mine.

“I was thinking about drinking your bathwater,” I answer honestly.

He laughs, and I lick into his mouth. He licks me back, and then we lick each other, tangling our tongues. I groan and press our mouths together, not wanting even air between us. Naz wraps his hand around both of us, slippery and tight. I roll my hips into him, setting a rhythm that gets too good, too soon. It occurs to me too late that I should draw this out, make it last, but I’m already too far gone.

“I’m going to come already,” Naz pants into my mouth.

“It’s okay. This one’s a freebie. I’m going to make you work for the next one,” I tell him.

We come together, laughing and spasming at the same time.

When we’ve come down, we lay against opposite ends of the tub, our knees slightly bent and legs entwined. We talk a little, but I don’t think either of us wants to disturb the peace by bringing in any of the outside world.

One of Naz’s feet rubs against the outside of my hip. I take it in my hands and rub my thumbs up and down the arch. Naz closes his eyes and groans in a way that makes my spent dick take notice.

I continue like that for a little while, ending my foot massage with an open-mouthed kiss to the side arch before grabbing his other foot to give it the same treatment.

“Scott Riley, do you have a foot fetish I didn’t know about?”

“To be fair, I didn’t know about it either. I don’t know what it was about seeing your wet foot propped over the edge of the tub, but fuck, it did something to me.”