Page 120 of After All This Time

"The way you move…" He trails off, dragging his hand through his hair. "It blows me away every time I watch you."

"How long have you been watching?" I ask, trying to sound unaffected, even as my pulse betrays me.

"A few minutes," he admits, his lips curving into that devastating half smile that lives in my dreams. "Is that your audition piece?"

"Yeah." I brush a sweaty strand of hair from my face, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. "Do you think it's okay? I know it's a little dark."

"It's perfect," he says without hesitation. "And you're gonna fucking nail it."

"I hope they like it as much as you do."

"I hope they don't. Not with how fucking hard I am right now."

My breath hitches at the heat in his stare, the way his eyes rake over me like they could burn. He lingers on my legs, and damn if it doesn't make me weak, but we both know nothing can happen. Mother Nature made sure of that when she showed up yesterday morning, and I silently curse the bitch for her horrible timing.

"Maybe if I make them hard," I tease, deliberately testing his control, "they'll sign me up."

But he doesn't crack a smile. His jaw ticks, and those eyes turn lethal as they drag back to mine.

"Is that what you want, baby? Other men watching you, wanting you the way I want you?"

"Careful, Tobias. Anyone would think you're jealous."

"Jealous?" He lets out a humorless laugh as he leans forward, forearms braced on his thighs. "No,Firefly. I'm not jealous because I know what we have, andI know no other manwill everknow how beautiful you look when you come."

The weight of whatever this is—whatever we're becoming—settles on my chest like concrete, a truth we're both too chickenshit to voice. Because every day, it gets deeper, and when the shit hits the fan—because it will—there's no coming back from this.

"However,I don't share what's mine. And I sure as hell don't want anyone thinking with their dick when they look at you."

The possessiveness in his voice sends shivers racing down my spine, and I'm not sure if it's fear or want—or some fucked-up cocktail of both. But the way he looks at me, like I'm his and only his, makes it impossible to look away.

"Guess it's a good thing I know exactly what I've got and what I want." The words come out breathier than I mean them to, betraying every emotion I'm trying to hide. He palms his cock through his jeans, and my eyes take in that thick outline.

"Is this what you want?" I nod, my mouth watering as my body responds the way it always does for him. "On your knees, baby." I sink down slowly, desperate, needy, and fucking shameless at this point. "Now crawl to me. Come take what belongs to you and show me just how badly you want it."

There's no hesitation.

No pride.

Just a raw fucking need.

He has no clue how gone I am for him, how I'd hand over every piece of myself without a second thought.

"Look at you, so fucking perfect for me."

The floor bites into my knees as I crawl forward, but I don't care. He's leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes burning into me like I'm his favorite addiction.When I finally reach him, his hand cups the back of my neck, and his mouth crashes into mine.

It's everything—demanding, possessive, all-consuming.

"You have no idea what you do to me, baby. No fucking idea."

I melt into him completely, my hands gripping his thighs as I press closer, surrendering to the desperate ache building between us.

"Let me taste you," I whisper, my breath hot against his mouth as he pulls back, chest heaving.

His hand moves to his belt, unbuckling it with ease, and when I tug his jeans down, my thighs press together at the sight of him.I rise on my knees, my hands gripping his thighs for balance as he strokes himself. I can't wait a second longer—I lean in and flick my tongue across the bead of moisture at the tip, savoring his taste.

"Fuck, baby, get that mouth on me," he groans out, the words low and desperate.

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