Page 4 of Never Forget

“Like I said, you’re wound tight. If not for the tattoos and piercings, I might see you as some kind of big shot corporate master of the world, but something tells me you’re more of an intellectual type.”

“Finance bros can’t have tattoos and be intellectual?”

Scott holds up his hands. “That wasn’t meant as an insult. I like this whole bad boy thing you’ve got going for you.” His eyes openly roam over me appreciatively. “Like, a lot.”

I huff out a laugh. “Okay, so you think you can read me?”

“If I were going to take care of you, I would need to.”

“Take care of me?” I scoff.

“The exchange is about giving, not taking. The role of the dominant isn’t about bossing someone around, abusing them for the fun of it, or taking what you want from them. It’s about giving the sub what they need.”

I should probably walk away, but I’m intrigued. Enough to hear him out a little at the very least. “And what is it you think I need?”

“To let go,” he says simply. “You already said it, but I could have guessed by the way you watch the scenes when you’re here. Most people pay attention to the action, to whatever ass is being turned out or turned red, but your eyes stay locked on the sub. On their face. And you look…”

“How do I look?”

“Desperate.”

“Oh wow, thanks.”

He barks out a laugh and leans down into my personal space. His breath smells sweet like he just finished eating something fruity, and it triggers my mouth to water. “You look like you want something you think you’ll never have. But you’re wrong.”

I can’t speak. Hell, I can barely breathe. All I am capable of right now is staring up at his dark, kind eyes.

“Why don’t you want to tell me your name?”

His intense stare pulls the answer out of me before I can give it any thought.

“Because I don’t want to be me.”

Scott reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Then who do you want to be?”

“I want to be… No one. Nothing.” An empty canvas. A weightless, worriless body incapable of thought, or anything other than feeling whatever pain or pleasure is doled out to me from another person.

“I can give you that.”

Scott’s voice is hypnotic, and the way his eyes bore into mine makes me feel like he can see me. Like, really see me. And he doesn’t hate what he sees.

I feel split in half.

Part of me thinks I should run, get the fuck out of here right now and never look back. The other part, the part that’s had me skulking around the edges of this room trying to figure out what keeps luring me here, wants to give him a chance. And the way his eyes hold mine makes me feel strangely safe. Safe and accepted in a way I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel.

I drop my gaze to the floor, blinking away whatever spell his eyes have me under, then take another slow, controlled breath. My heart is beating faster than any of my drum solos, and I wonder if he can hear it, too. It’s loud enough to drown out the music in the background.

Slowly, I raise my eyes to his again, looking at him from beneath my lashes. Something unspoken passes between us, and it seems to be enough for Scott. He cups my jaw and tips my head up before kissing me lightly on the forehead.

“I’ll take care of you, sweet thing,” he murmurs against my hair. Then he walks me backward, farther into the shadows and around the side of the room, where I have a good enough vantage point to see my surroundings, but the shadows are dark enough that it would be difficult to see me clearly.

Scott reaches for a few silk ties on a hook and holds them up for me to see. I don’t make a move or say anything to stop him, so he steps forward and covers my eyes with the first tie. He ties it loosely enough that it just covers the top part of my mask, allowing a small gap beneath the fabric that helps me feel less claustrophobic. His breath is warm against my face as he ties it off, his voice gentle as he lays out some rules and assures me.

“We’ll use a basic traffic light safe word system. Green means go, yellow means slow down. You use that if you’re feeling close to your limit on something but don’t want to stop. If you say red, everything stops, no hesitation and no questions asked. Do you understand?”

I nod, suddenly feeling very nervous. Am I really doing this?

“Is this okay?” He asks, moving behind me and pulling my arms behind my back, wrists crossed. I nod again, but he stops and leans in. “I need to hear you say it.”