Page 17 of Never Forget

Of course Scott notices my change in demeanor. He always notices every little thing about me. Rather than initiate anything, he chuckles and gestures towards my cards with his chin. The sound of his rich laugh makes heat pool in my belly.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I pick up my handful of cards that I’m so close to getting rid of. If I could just pick up a two this round, I’d have a set and then just a few left. But Cheaty McCheaterson over there always seems to call whatever number I have almost a full set for every time.

Ugh. An eight.

“Do you have any fives?”

I toss him the two fives I have with a scowl that makes him snort, and I have to admit I like being able to make him laugh when he’s had a rough day.

His phone pings. He looks down at it and frowns, tapping the screen before tossing it away.

“Fucking spammers,” he huffs.

I manage to get two eights from him and send him fishing on his next try. On my next round, I have to add yet another card to my ever-growing collection of random ass numbers that aren’t doing anything to help me win.

When Scott doesn’t take his next turn right away, I look up and find him making hard eye contact. My breath shallows and my cock perks up, because that’s usually a sign that a very different kind of game has begun.

I swallow hard and wait for him to give me some kind of instruction, already feeling myself sink into that heavy sensation at the base of my skull. He opens his mouth to speak, the words dripping from his lips like honey, slow and sensual…

“Do you have any twos?”

That snaps me right out of my lust haze. I gawk at him and shoot to my feet. “You’re fucking kidding me!”

Scott cracks up, laughing so hard his eyes are barely open, and he’s not even making sound. His big body shakes with it, and a tear falls from one of his squinted eyes.

I toss all my cards in the air. And then, for good measure, I pick up what’s left of the draw deck and do the same to those cards.

I have no idea what gets into me when I’m around him. Usually I’m very level-headed and couldn’t care less if I win or lose. Hell, I’m always calm and observant enough that I win nearly every game I play. The guys stopped playing poker with me years ago because I kick their asses every time, but one game of Go Fish with my bodyguard, and I want to throw things and stomp my feet.

Maybe because this isn’t the game I want to play.

“I’m done. Fuck me now.”

Scott’s laughter has tapered down, but he looks up at me with barely disguised amusement, cocking an eyebrow.

“And since when do you tell me what to do, pet?”

“Since you’ve been avoiding me for weeks.”

“I see you every day.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”

“You needed space, and then we got busy with the tour. You’ve been exhausted.”

“That never stopped you before. You’re punishing me for the beach house.”

“That’s not it.” He sighs. “Not really. It’s not a punishment. I just… I don’t want to go overboard.”

“What does that mean?”

Scott pulls himself up to sit on the edge of the chaise and puts his elbows on his knees. I lean my back against the foot of the bed, the scattered cards forgotten.

“The crazier things get out there, the heavier protecting you becomes. Possessing you in here takes the edge off, because when I have you like that, I know I have control and nothing bad can happen to you. But the heavier things get, the more that need bleeds into the outside world.”

Subtext: He wants more.

He won't say it outright because he knows I can’t give it to him. We had an agreement and he’s honoring my boundaries like he always does, but he’s easy to read.