Page 39 of After All This Time

He whistles low, nodding in understanding. "Hold up. Let me get another drink. Pretty sure you're gonna need it."

He heads to the bar, and I let my gaze drift around the room, taking in the art on the deep-green walls. I've seen it all a hundred times, but somehow, it still pulls me in—bold colors, rough lines, pieces that don't match but somehow belong here. A few minutes later, Harry returns, sliding into his seat with two fresh beers and a couple of shots.

"Okay, so this isn't a one-time thing, which means…" Harry pauses, watching me closely.

"Something's changing. I can feel it," I admit, the words heavy as they leave my mouth.

"For her too?" he asks.

"Definitely not. But there was a moment between us last night—this look in her eyes… I can't explain it, but the energy between us was different."

"Does it go deeper for you?"

"I don't do deep. I do fucking and fun. But even that hasn't been working out lately."

"Maybe you do deep with Amelia because she actually knows you. And you know it could never just be fucking and fun with her."

"Why am I not disgusted by that? I should be. She's my—"

"She's not your sister," he cuts in, voice firm. "You weren't raised together like that. You didn't grow up sharing a bathroom or have matching Halloween costumes."

"I don't want to want her, Harry."

"I know." I grab the shot of vodka he brought and throw it back, the burn doing little to numb what's raging inside me. "You know who you should talk to about this? Zane. He knows all about inappropriate feelings for women."

"It's not a bad idea," I say, laughing at the thought of getting advice from the guy who once looked ready to kick my ass. "He's coming tomorrow, isn't he?"

"Jen said he was."

"Dude's crazy to wanna hang out with all of us," I say, shaking my head.

We don't talk about Amelia again.

I got it out. I let it just exist between us for a moment. Allowed myself to feel the burn of it, and now I'm going to lock it down and bury it so deep even I won't be able to find it again.

Chapter 16

Amelia

"Is this okay for where we're going?" I ask, stepping into the living room to meet Tobias.

His eyes drop to my nude heels, then start a slow climb up my body, taking in every detail—the black jeans that hug my ass, the fitted tank that clings to my chest, highlighting the parts of me I've never been shy about.

I'm not what anyone would call petite. I'm short, yes, but I'm all curves—hips, chest, and a softness that's worlds away from the classic ballet form. But my body is powerful, capable, and strong, and I wouldn't change anything about it.

Once Tobias finishes his inspection, his eyes finally return to my face, and the heat that erupts beneath my skin is immediate. His jaw tightens for a split second before he drops his snarky response.

"You could've made an effort, Firefly."

"You're a dick," I say, grabbing my purse from the side table and tossing in my lip gloss and phone. "Do you even own anything that isn't black or white?"

"Not really," he says, the words slipping out casually, but I'm barely listening.

He's dressed in all black tonight. His dark T-shirt clings to his broad shoulders, ink twisting along his arms, covering his skin from top to bottom. And my body appreciates every single inch of it.

He looks… devastatingly good.

The mouthwatering, heart-stopping, can't-breathe kind of beautiful.

---