Page 40 of After All This Time

I try to shake the thoughts of him away, but a quiet, traitorous laugh slips out before I can rein it in.

"Something funny?" he asks, one eyebrow arching in that effortlessly cocky way, his gaze pinning me as he waits for me to answer.

"Just imagining you in a bright-red T-shirt and some yellow pants," I grin at him, reaching for the jacket I bought especially for tonight. It's a deep, inky black, fitted just right for my body.

"If Ronald McDonald is your kink, baby, just say it."

My eyes snap toward him so fast it's a miracle he doesn't flinch.

He didn't mean to speak to me like that.

Like I'm not me.

His eyes, pale as arctic ice but burning like blue flames, lock onto mine a beat too long, betraying every thought he's trying to keep hidden.

Then, just as quickly, the mask drops back into place.

"I know you like the nuggets, but I didn't know you wanted the clown too."

"Tobias, if I wanted a clown, I'd have one, considering I'm living with you." I let the words settle, daring him to brush them off as easily.

But he can't.

Instead, he steps into my space, closing the distance between us. One second I'm breathing my own air, the next I'm drowning in him.

His hand moves slowly, deliberately, and before I can think, let alone react, his fingers graze the side of my neck. My breath stutters, catching in my throat as my chest rises and falls against this tight-as-fuck shirt, while butterflies take over my stomach.

My body's caught in a war I can't win—half of me aching to lean into him, to feel his grip tighten until there's no escape, and the other half screaming to back away before I dive headfirst into something I won't be able to claw my way out of.

His fingers skim lightly along my skin, trailing up toward my hairline, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then, with a suddenness that makes my heart race, his hand yanks away from my neck, and a ripping sound splits the air.

"The tag was still in it. You're welcome." I internally scream as he tosses the tag in the trash like nothing just happened.

He moves toward the door, cool as ever, with a quick, subtle nod that says,We're leaving, no questions asked.

What the hell was that?

Those five words echo in my mind the entire Uber ride like my brain's gone full-on masochist.

He flirted with me. He can call ittag pullingall he wants, but his fingers grazed my skin just enough for me to feel it and know exactly what he was doing.

He wasn't just touching me. He was baiting me. He dragged his fingers over my skin like he was daring me to react while attempting to coax the kind of response he could feel beneath his fingertips.

And the worst part? My body betrayed me, the traitorous bitch, offering up every sign he wanted. He knows women, knows their tells, knows precisely what to look for, and how they respond to him, and I was no different.

Tobias holds the door open for me, and the moment I step inside the bar, it feels like walking straight into fall. One wall is covered in a stunning display of flowers and leaves in shades of orange, gold, and green, and at the back of the room, the bar stands out as the centerpiece, and behind it, a massive mirror stretches across the entire wall.

I spot Harry toward the corner of the room, standing up and waving us over with a grin that could light up the whole bar. Beside him is a stunning brunette, her glossy hair catching the light and her wide smile perfectly matching his energy.

"Where's Blondie and the professor?" Tobias asks as we reach the table.

"Late, as usual," the brunette—who I'm assuming is Jen—rolls her eyes before giving me a small wave. "You must be Amelia. It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Mills, this is Jennifer."

"Nice to meet you too," I say, sliding into the booth beside Tobias, directly across from Jen and Harry.

"It's Jen," she corrects, shooting Tobias a look that's both annoyed and amused. "Tobias just lives to get under my skin."

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