Page 16 of Never Forget

“I figured you might need something after that shitshow.”

Naz shakes his head. “I’m fine. You’re the one that had to deal with shit.” He raises his eyes to the ceiling. “Also, I apparently need to be nicer to you. And you do probably deserve something a little special. Maybe.”

“Special?”

“How about tonight you tell me what you need? Let me be there for you. You can use me as you please.”

“Use you as I please?” I repeat, dazed.

“Whatever you want.”

It takes several long moments for my brain to recover from the sudden drop into my balls. Just those words, said in that low, husky tone…

Jesus.

“Whatever I want, huh?”

“Yes,” he says so quietly it could be a whisper. “Whatever you want.”

FOUR

NAZ

Okay, well this is not exactly what I had in mind when I told Scott he could have anything he wants from me tonight. I kind of thought he’d want to tie me up and take his frustration out on my ass. Or make me crawl around on all fours wearing a muzzle again.

But no. That’s apparently not what Scott Riley had in mind when I told him he could use me as he pleases.

“Go Fish.”

“Bullshit you don’t have any twos!” I shriek, slamming my cards face down and staring at Scott incredulously.

“I don’t have any twos.”

“You’re lying.”

“I would never!”

“You’re a goddamn cheater. Show me your cards.”

“You’re just mad you’re losing by, like, a lot.”

I huff a laugh and lean back against the end of the bed. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because you’re a sore loser.”

“No, I mean this,” I say, gesturing to the box of children’s card games, empty bowl of popcorn, and basically every kind of candy we could find in the hotel convenience shop.

“Because it’s fun. And because you said I can use you however I want, and after today, I kind of just want to chill.”

My defenses melt a little. I suppose that makes sense. We haven’t had any sessions or so much as touched each other since that first night at the beach house. I was worried he’d gotten tired of my bullshit. It was a stressful day, more so for him. Our sessions are what help me when I’m feeling too much, but maybe that’s not the case for him. That’s not what he needs right now.

I can’t believe he ran straight at some guy with a fucking knife. He could have been hurt. More than that, I’ve never seen him look so upset before. In the conference room when he was talking about it, he looked like he might crack a molar or throw the table through the wall, or both.

“Are you okay?”

Scott mirrors my pose, leaning back against the chaise lounge on the other side of the small coffee table covered in our games and snacks, and gives me his signature smile. “Yeah, pet. I’m alright.”

My skin tingles. He called me pet. Does that mean we’re going to get to the play finally?