Page 167 of After All This Time

I couldn't look away from him if I tried. The way he works is hypnotic. He's in his element, and it's impossible not to be captivated by him.

I can't see what he's creating, but it doesn't matter. Watching Tobias—his concentration, the way his brows furrow, the way he occasionally glances up at me with that wicked glint in his eyes—has me spellbound.

The sting of the needle fades to the background, and all I can focus on is him.

Always him.

Every now and then, Tobias pauses, his hand hovering like he's fighting a losing battle with himself. When the needle bitesa little deeper and I let out a sharp hiss, his eyes snap closed for a moment, like he's collecting every ounce of restraint he has. Then he stops entirely, the hum of the machine dying as he looks up at me.

"You okay?"

"Are you?" I counter with a smirk, meeting his gaze head-on.

His eyes darken, his lips twitching into something predatory. "You realize I can smell how fucking wet you are, don't you?" he says, going back to his work. His voice is rough, gravelly, like it's taking every shred of his focus to keep his hands steady. "You have no idea how hard it is for me not to slide your panties to the side."

Without warning, his mouth finds my inner thigh. The kiss he plants there isn't gentle, yet my body responds instantly, clenching around nothing.

"Now stop talking and let me finish this," he growls against my skin, "or you're only getting half a tattoo."

The next ten minutes are pure torture. Every buzz of the needle, every deliberate stroke, sends a slow burn through me that has nothing to do with pain. And when he finally wipes away the last traces of ink, his fingers linger—dragging over my skin like he can’t help himself.

Tobias sits up for a moment, giving me room to glance down at my hip, and my breath catches. The skin is still red, glistening under a thin layer of ointment he applied, and I see two interlocked hearts, the left trail fading backward while the right trail carves a bold, unbroken path forward.

"It's so pretty. What made you choose that?"

He touches the path below the left trail. "This is our past, leading us here." He points to the first heart. "This is mine." Then he moves to the second heart, which is tangled with the first. "This is yours." Finally, he drags his finger along the futuretrail. "And this? That's whatever the hell we decide it's going to be."

His fingers hover just above my skin, tracing invisible patterns on my thigh.

My hand instinctively slides into his hair, tugging gently as my chest tightens with a mix of love and desire.

"It's beautiful," I say, my voice a quiet rasp.

"You're beautiful," he replies, lowering his mouth to the top of my panties. His lips brush just below my navel, sending heat spiraling through my core.

"Tobias," his name leaves my lips in one desperate breath, "if you keep touching me like that, I’ll be walking out of here with your cum dripping down my thighs."

"You want me to fuck you, baby?" I nod, catching my lip between my teeth, but his dark smile spreads as his hands force my thighs wider, exposing everything. "Not before I've eaten."

My breath catches as his lips press to the inside of my thigh, his tongue flicking against my skin while he pins me down like he owns my body.

"Now lie back and spread those legs, Firefly, because I'm not stopping until I've got you screaming. You're gonna soak my tongue, drench my face, and when you fucking squirt for me, I'm taking every drop."

Chapter 63

Tobias

Every cell in my body is screaming for Amelia. The urge to take her home and peel those clothes off again is fucking primal.

But I can't. Not yet.

I've got dinner plans tonight at Tessa and Zane's. And this time, I'm bringing my girl with me.

The way they’ve been there for me—no dramatic gestures, no lengthy speeches—just a steady presence when I needed it is something I’ll never forget. I’m not about to be that asshole who bails on them now, no matter how much I want to give in to my dick's demands and fuck Amelia against the nearest surface.

Our weekly dinners have become a ritual that’s grounded me in ways I didn’t expect. And while Zane would probably sooner get my name tattooed on his face than admit these dinners mean anything to him, I think he enjoys them too.

The day Amelia left, something inside me cracked open. For the first time in years, I was living alone—properly alone. Thesilence was deafening. It crept into every corner of my life, and for the first time, I had to face the kind of emptiness I’d spent years pretending didn’t exist.

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