Page 8 of Taken Online

I’m not ready. I don’t even register what he says at first, his mouth moves, tongue flicking out briefly, and I have to force myself not to check out what he’s wearing.

Focus. You can’t freeze again.

“Um, did you hear me?”

Gone is the snarky man I met at the club a few years ago. This version is quiet, reserved. His body language screams discomfort. Shy.

I need to get it together. I stare at him. He quickly looks away.

Perfect. I glance down.

He’s wearing a hoodie.

My hoodie.

The one I sent him.

It swallows him. He’s also in sweats. And the necklace. The one I bought him.

Fuck.

“So, erm—”

I cough, letting the nerves out. He doesn’t seem to recognize me from the club. Guess I wasn’t all that memorable. A bittersweet feeling.

“Nice to meet you…”

“Asher! Asher Greene.” He smiles, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. Nothing like the slutty little persona he projects online. You’d never guess by looking at him that he likes cockteasing men for fun.

“Okay, Asher, I’m Dr. Peterson. Pleasure to meet you.”

I sit straighter.

Why are you here?

You shouldn’t be here. Not yet.

“So, tell me, Asher, what brings you in today?” I ask, my notebook burning in my hands. Just a few pages back and he’d see the list of things I’ve wanted to send him.

“It’s court-mandated.” He smiles shyly. “And you were close, so I figured... yeah.”

I nod. I need to pull it together.

Deep breath.

He’s in my office. My world.

He’s under my control.

I am not the man from the club who couldn’t speak in his presence.

Still, I’m a little pissed off at how he acted.

I school my face into neutrality.

“What was the crime, Asher?”

I watch him bite his lip.

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