Page 76 of After All This Time

Chapter 29

Amelia

Iwake to the solid warmth of a wall pressed against my back—except it's not a wall. It's the tatted pain in my ass, and every inch of him radiates heat and temptation. His arm drapes over my waist like it belongs there, his breath slow and even against the back of my neck, and my traitorous body? Oh, it's absolutely here for it.

For a moment, I don't move or even breathe. I just exist in this impossible space where his body fits against mine like we were designed for this moment.

Have I ever imagined waking up in Tobias's arms? Funnily enough, no. It's never been that deep—or so I've told myself. But now that I'm living it? I can honestly say I don't hate it. In fact, I'd be lying if I said I wanted to move.

I shift slightly, testing the space between us—or lack of it, and Tobias goes rigid behind me.

He's awake, and yet he still hasn't moved either. It's like being trapped in this impossible moment—caught between breathing and not breathing, between touching and not touching.

Another shift, and his arm tightens, pulling me flush against him.

"Stop moving."

It's not a request. It's a command laced with a warning, and yet my hips betray me, shifting just slightly before I can stop them.

"Stay fucking still," he murmurs, his voice rough with frustration. "Unless you're willing to take care of the problem you're causing, Amelia."

His arm loosens slightly, giving me a chance to breathe—but not enough to escape. I feel the slow, deliberate inhale as his face buries into my hair, his breath warm against my neck. The intimacy of it—the closeness—is enough to send a shiver through me, and I can't tell if I'm dying or melting.

He groans, low and rough, the sound vibrating through me. "You need to wash your hair," he mutters, and for a second, I think he's trying to lighten the mood. "I can't smell the coconut as strongly as I did last night."

The words hit like a sledgehammer, but they bring the realization that he got close.

Close enough to notice.

Close enough to care.

Tobias's grip loosens, and when I turn to face him, he keeps his eyes closed, allowing me to soak him in without him knowing.

His unfairly beautiful face is framed by the sharp lines of his jaw, the dark mess of his hair, and the soft, sinfully inviting curve of his lips. Something stirs in my stomach, unfurling quickly and settling between my thighs, and I press my legs together as if that'll do anything to quiet the ache he's caused.

His eyes open slowly, and we're inches apart.

If he kissed me right now, would I stop him? No. And that truth terrifies me because one move is all it would take.

I should move. I should break this moment.

But I can't, and I don't want to.

I just want to grab his head and push his face between my thighs.

My smutty thoughts are officially out of control, and honestly, I don't even feel bad about it.

"Stop looking at me like that, baby, because all I can think about is giving you exactly what you're not asking for, and I'm about two seconds away from making good on it."

My breath hitches, and my chest tightens under the weight of his words. The eye contact alone is lethal—daring me to test him, pushing just far enough to see if he'll follow through. For a second—just one stupid, reckless second—I actually consider it.

But I pull myself together, sitting up in the bed as the sheets pool around my waist. Tobias moves too, leaning back against the headboard, and I have to force myself not to look at him as he stretches, every shift of muscle and ink begging for my attention.

I slip out of the bed before I give in and do something stupid, like lick him, climb him, or beg.

Grabbing my bag, I try to focus on anything but him.

"You want me to leave everything in the bathroom for you?" I ask, glancing over my shoulder. Tobias nods, his eyes steady on me, watching every move like he has something to say but won't.

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