Page 73 of After All This Time

I glance at the bed again, my stomach tightening. I should say something. Suggest that we keep driving, find another motel, or,hell, I could just sleep in the car. But I don't. No matter how much I know that's the right thing to do, there's a darker part of me—a selfish, greedy part—that doesn't want to. That part of me wonders how close we can get to the edge before we fall.

The truth is, I'm exhausted. My body aches from the drive, and I can feel the pull of sleep somewhere in the back of my mind. But sleep isn't going to come easy tonight.

Not in this room.

Not with her this close.

Not with that damn bed staring at me like it knows exactly what I want.

"I hope you like the floor, Tobias," she says, perching on the edge of the bed like a queen on her throne.

"I hope you're fucking with me, Mills."

She doesn't flinch, doesn't falter. She just locks those dark, defiant eyes on mine like she knows she's got me exactly where she wants me. And maybe she does. I try my absolute hardest to hold her gaze, but it's impossible not to notice the way her chest rises and falls beneath that tight tank top, making me feel like a fucking pervert.

Congratulations, Tobias—you're officially part of the problem now.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor, and neither are you."

She tilts her head, her lips curving into the faintest smirk, showing just how far she's pushing me. Then, without a word, she leans back, stretching out on the bed like it's hers alone. Her body sinks into the mattress, her legs crossing at the ankles, and it takes everything in me not to let my knees give out right there.

If I dropped to the floor right now, I'd be at the perfect angle to uncross those ankles, part her legs, and taste her. To bury my face between her thighs and make her say my name in that breathless, needy way that's haunted my every thought since the first time I heard it leave her lips.

"You can have the side nearest the door."

"Yeah, I know. You've always put me between you and any potential axe murderers."

"It's because you're so strong and heroic,"she drawls, sarcasm dripping like honey.

"Get out of my ass,"I mutter, laughing as I head to the bathroom. I push the door open, glancing around. "Besides, you can't be tired anyway. You slept in the car, so you can keep watch."

"If you think I slept well, you're mistaken."

"The snoring suggested otherwise,"I call out, grinning as I check the faucet, pleasantly surprised to find that it's not dripping.

"You always say that, and I always call bullshit."

"Okay, fine,"I concede, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest. "You don't snore. But you do talk in your sleep. And whatever you were dreaming about? It sounded fun."

"It was,"she says without missing a beat. "It was about Kyle, the gas guy."

When I saw the way he looked at her earlier, something in me snapped. He didn’t know who I was to her, but he needed to understand that she wasn't there alone.

She wasn't available.

She isn't available.

"Speaking of sleazy fuckers, what did you mean when you fake-called Tate? When you said you'd finish what you started?"

It's a question I've been sitting on since the moment she dropped it, trying to play it off like it didn't matter, but it's been burning a hole in my chest since the second she said it.

Amelia sits up and faces me, her eyes wide. "Why are you even asking me that?"

"Call me curious,"I reply, shrugging it off like it's nothing.

"Well, you can stay curious,"she snaps, her tone sharp as she stands up and moves around the room, grabbing her things and tossing them onto her side of the bed.

I watch her, my jaw tightening as she puts distance between us, likethat'sgoing to end the conversation. Before I can talk myself out of it, I cross the room, my hand reaching out to catch her arm—not hard, just enough to stop her from running from this.

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