Page 102 of After All This Time

He nods, and I can't help but wonder how much longer I'll have this version of him before things change… before they shift so much that we can't go back to where we started.

Tobias carries both my bags and his own down the stairs, placing them by the front door.

"Dad? Kayla? We're going," he calls out, his voice booming through the house. My mom and David stroll into the foyer, dressed like they're off to meet royalty rather than just heading to brunch or whatever they do to keep up appearances.

After the world's most awkward goodbye routine—hugs exchanged only between my mom and me and her and Tobias because David's got all the warmth of a corpse—we're finally free.

"Nine thirty a.m.," I say, clicking my seatbelt into place. "Hopefully, we'll be home before midnight."

"As long as we don't stop too often, we'll be fine." His voice is calm as his fingers tap against the steering wheel.

"Good, because I really don't want to stay another night in a motel," I mutter, trying not to think about the last time we were stuck in one.

"There's no fucking way we're stopping at a motel."

"You didn't seem to mind the first time."

"It's different now," he shoots back, glancing at me before returning his attention to the road.

"Why?"

"Because my cock wants inside you, and I refuse for our first time to be in a motel on the side of the road," he says, his voice calm, like he's just discussing something as simple as the weather. "But I also know that if I have to share a bed with you again, I'm not going to let you sleep until you know exactly how it feels to be fucked by me. So getting home tonight is the only option."

And I'm speechless. My mouth opens, but no words come out. My brain is scrambling to process what he just said while my body is already reacting.

I can't stop staring at him—at the lazy confidence in his posture, the way his eyes keep finding mine in between watching the road.

"What?" he asks, as if he didn't just wreck me with a single sentence. "Unless you want me to ruin you in a trashy motel because if you do, I'll stop at the next one we pass."

"Okay, hold up. What?" My voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, and his lips curl into that wicked smirk that makes me want to climb into his lap.

"Baby, I'm gonna be fucking you. And often. So make your peace with it because I know you want me—you just don't know how to ask for it."

My hands fumble for my sunglasses as I try to hide how affected I am by his words. I shove them onto my face, sinking back into the seat as I try to pull myself together.

"This is gonna be a long fucking drive," I mutter, more to myself than to him, but the grin spreading across his face tells me he heard every word.

Chapter 41

Tobias

How does someone look so damn beautiful and peaceful when they're sleeping with their mouth open?

Amelia's dark lashes fan against her cheeks, hair spilled across her face, and here I am—the creep staring at her like she hung the damn moon. Six months ago, I'd have been the asshole waking her up by shoving my finger in her mouth just to piss her off.

Don’t think about your cock. Don't think about the way it felt when she had her lips around it.

Yeah, it's easier said than done.

Because how am I supposed to think about anything else when all I want to do is touch her now? Not just to get off. Not just to fuck her. But to feel her—to connect with her in a way I didn't even know I needed untilher.

It's not just about physical touch anymore, not the usual craving that's been wired into me since I learned how to feel. This is different. This is me wanting to hold her hand, needingto trace the line of her jaw with my fingertips, aching to pull her against my chest and match my breathing to hers just to feel closer.This is that same soul-deep affection I've seen between Zane and Tessa, the kind I never thought I'd want—much less need.

But now I get it.

This gnawing in my gut when she's not near. The way my skin feels too tight until I'm touching her. The desperate urge to wrap her in my arms and just… breathe her in. I can't shake it.

I know she's going to be in her head about this. Hell, I get it—I'm in mine too, and it's messy as fuck in here. But I can't let her see that. I can't give her one more thing to worry about or another reason to overthink and spiral until she convinces herself that this thing between us is a mistake.

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