Page 103 of After All This Time

Because it's not a mistake, it's happening—we'rehappening—and it's not just physical. I refuse to pretend it is, and I won't let her run from me, not when we've barely scratched the surface of what this could be.

The way she fits against me isn't wrong. The way my heart kicks in my chest when she says my name isn't wrong. The way I can't stop thinking about our future—fuck, that's not wrong either.

I can't even imagine what our parents' faces would look like if they ever found out. Kayla would probably chain Amelia to her bedroom wall, throw away the key, and hire an exorcist to cleanse her of my influence. And my dad—Jesus, the old man would probably drop dead on the spot, and wouldn't that be poetic? Because after the funeral, after all the condolences and casseroles, guess who'd be expected to step up? Me.

Yeah, not happening.

I've never cared about their judgment before, and I sure as hell don't now. Let them all judge until their tongues fall out of their heads. Let them clutch their pearls and whisperbehind manicured hands and their perfect little lives that reek of insecure gold diggers and men who'd rather clean their own toilets than eat pussy. Let them spread their hate about how David Sinclair's boy corrupted his precious stepsister.

Because nothing—not their judgment, not their whispers, not their self-righteous bullshit—changes the way my body recognizes hers. The way my soul knows her. The way every cell in my being screamsminewhen she walks into a room.

She starts to stir, wiping at her mouth, and I can't help but smirk. "I know I'm irresistible, Firefly, but drooling? I thought you'd have more game than that."

"Shut up, asshole. I wasn't drooling…" She scrubs at her face, fighting a smile. "Okay, fine. Maybe I was. A little."

"Feel better?"

"Yeah, thanks." She stretches out, her back arching slightly, and I force my eyes to stay on the road. "Want me to drive?"

"I'm good." My fingers tap against the steering wheel as a grin tugs at my lips. "But if you're offering your services, I can think of better ways to use that mouth."

She reaches over, punching my arm with that tiny fist that couldn't hurt a fly. "You're such a dick." But she's fighting a smile as she leans forward to switch on the music. "Speaking of dicks, what's going on with you and David? You two were almost civil this weekend. It was weird."

"We reached an understanding."

"Please tell me you didn't cave about the company." Her eyes narrow, and I can hear the protectiveness in her tone. "Because I swear to god, Tobias, I'll kick your ass."

"No, baby, you won't see me suited up anytime soon."

"Well, that part is a shame." Her eyes slowly sweep over me. "You cleaned up pretty nice at the party."

I press a hand to my chest in mock shock. "Was that… was that actually a compliment?"

"I take it back." She's laughing, running those delicate fingers through her hair, and my mind goes straight to how it would feel wrapped around my fist, how she'd look on her knees with those pretty lips parted…

Focus.

"I agreed to help appoint someone if shit ever hit the fan, but I'm not signing my life away to a future I don't want."

"So what do you want?" She turns in her seat, pulling one leg up under her, and now she's fully facing me. "What do you see beyond Lola's?"

"My own studio."

"You could do it tomorrow if you wanted. You've got the money."

"I'm not ready to half-ass it." I glance at her. "Still got shit to learn, but I'll get there."

"Of course you will. You always got what you wanted when we were younger, so why stop now?"

I look at her, and something in my chest cracks open. Because she's it—the one thing I want but might never fully have. The thought blindsides me, too real for where we are right now. Too fucking soon to be thinking about a future when we've barely started.

"My dad found it easier to give me whatever I wanted than parent me. Throwing money at problems was his specialty. Actually connecting? Not so much."

"Yours pretends you don't exist, and mine micromanages every breath I take. I guess we balance each other out."

"Haven't we always, Firefly?" Her eyes meet mine, and whatever this is between us crackles to life again.

Fuck self-control.

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