Page 55 of After All This Time

Tessa's lips twitch into a faint smile, clearly amused by the memory. "Jen was all for it, though."

"Yeah, she probably figured it'd be easier to slip poison in my coffee during morning-after breakfast."

"You can't control who you fall for, Tobias," Zane interrupts, guiding us back to the reality of the situation.

"Okay, I'm not in love with her or anything like that, but for my own sanity, I need to figure out how the hell to ignore this attraction when I'm around her nearly every day."

"I've got two options for you," Zane says, leaning forward on the table and crossing his arms. "And you can go with whichever one makes sense—or maybe just the one that's easier to live with." I nod, bracing myself. "You try to block out whatever it is about Amelia that's gotten under your skin and buried itself deeper the more time you spend together. You keep her at a distance, never letting yourself get too close. Be careful with every word, every look, and every second of eye contact. And yeah, it might drive you out of your fucking mind, but maybe the attraction will burn itself out. You're a good-looking guy, andthere are plenty of women who'd be more than happy to help get Amelia out of your system. If you're lucky, you go back to seeing her as she was before any of this started—roommate, stepsister… just a friend."

The safe option.

"Or?" I ask, half dreading the answer.

"Or you say fuck it and go with your feelings. Because trying to shut them out will mess with your head until you're obsessing over the one thing you can't have… and want more than anything else."

"You know what? You've just made this all so much worse for me. So thanks for nothing, assholes." I shake my head, letting out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Mind if I give you some advice from my perspective?" Tessa's voice is soft, but there's a firm edge to it, something that even makes Zane pause as she reaches over and slips her hand into his.

"You may as well, considering I'm all shades of messed up about it."

"Whatever happens, be careful with her feelings. I can only imagine the last thing she'd ever want is to lose you. So if you go there, take care of her heart like it's beating in your own chest."

I’d never hurt Amelia. She’s someone I’d protect at all costs, no matter what it took or who I had to go through.

"But maybe she'll be smart enough to see past that pretty face of yours."

"You forgot about my abs and big cock."

"I have no experience with your cock."

"Yet."

Zane chuckles and presses his lips against her hair. "God, I'm going to make you pay for his big mouth later," he murmurs, the amusement barely hidden in his voice.

They both laugh, and I feel a tinge of envy run through me. I don't even know if I want a relationship. But seeing how they just fit—it's hard not to think I might want something like that for myself.

"I'd say I'm sorry, Blondie, but something tells me you'll be thanking me for it tomorrow."

A couple of hours later, I step back into my apartment, still feeling the weight of that conversation with Zane and Tessa hanging over me. The drive home had given me plenty of time to overanalyze everything they said and work up a half-assed plan. I decided—partially convinced and somewhat desperate—that the first part of Zane's advice was the only way through this mess.

Ignore these feelings.

Kill them dead and salt the earth behind them.

Honestly, I'd rather watch whatever this is between us shrivel up and die than risk ruining what we already have. She means too much to me.

But what if I'm already making her uncomfortable? Maybe that's why she's been distant these last few days, why it feels like she's been avoiding me.

That thought twisted in my mind the whole drive home, churning alongside the realization that maybe she needed space from me. Maybe she's silently waiting for me to stop whatever I've started here.

Fuck it—and not Zane's version of "fuck it," but mine.

Right now, my version of "fuck it" means shoving aside every dark thought of wanting her beneath my hands, tasting her, andfinding out how she'd feel pressed up against me—but I already know she'd fit perfectly.

The thought of her all soft and pliant in my grip, discovering every little thing that makes her gasp, makes her cry out. It's been haunting me.

But it ends here.

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