Page 96 of After All This Time

"It's a cocktail bar with a very exclusive clientele." The tension in her shoulders eases instantly, and I can almost hear the wheels stop spinning in her brain.

Heaven forbid her daughter serves drinks to anyone who can't afford to wipe their ass with hundred-dollar bills.

Tobias snickers beside me, and I swear to god, I want to throat-punch him.

"High-end clientele? That's not exactly what I'd call your little friend, Tate." I dig my heel into his foot under the table, trying to shut him up, but the bastard clamps his hand on my thigh—a warning of his own, though it feels a hell of a lot more like foreplay.

"Who's Tate?" David asks, his brows furrowing as he looks between us.

"He's just a customer at the bar."

"Is he attractive? Does he have a good job?"

Tobias's hand vanishes from my thigh. He leans back, bringing his hands to his mouth, but I catch the tight clench of his jaw.

"Yeah, Mom. He is attractive. Not that you'd like him, though—he owns a bike, so if I brought him home, you'd probably have an aneurysm. However, he's not afraid to go after what he wants, and he's made it clear that what he wants is me. Now, if you'll excuse me a minute," I say, sliding out of my seat and tugging my dress down a little as I stand. "I'm going to the bathroom."

Before I can reach the door, Tobias calls my name, his footsteps echoing behind me. I pause, turning just as I see my purse dangling from his hand.

"What are you doing?"

"You forgot this."

The words are barely out of his mouth before his fingers circle my wrist, and suddenly, I'm being dragged into the shadows beside the restrooms. My back meets the wall, and then he's everywhere—his heat, his scent, the solid weight of him pressing against me, his thigh wedged between my legs.

"Tobias—"

When he kisses me, it's not sweet. It's not gentle—we're past gentle, past pretending this isn't exactly what we both need. He kisses like he's trying to mark me from the inside out, like he's trying to erase every man who came before and ruin me for anyone who might come after.

His teeth graze my bottom lip, the sting soothed instantly by the sweep of his tongue, and I gasp into his mouth.

He finally breaks the kiss, but he doesn't move away. His forehead rests against mine, his breath ragged, and his thumb brushes over my swollen lip like he's admiring his own handiwork.

"That clear enough for you, Mills?" His eyes are dark, hungry, and fixed on my mouth like he's already planning to kiss me again. "There's no you and Tate, so get that through your pretty little head right now."

Then he's gone, leaving me trembling against the wall with slick thighs and fighting against an ache he created.

Chapter 39

Tobias

Istood outside Amelia's bedroom door last night, fist raised, ready to knock, ready to fuck my name out of her mouth, but I couldn't do it. We hadn't talked about what happened before her mom dragged me out of the room, and I didn't want to assume anything because it's Amelia.

Sweet, fierce, and completely out of my league, Amelia.

And she deserves better than stolen moments and forbidden touches.

But that doesn't mean I wasn't hard as a rock for her the second she walked into the foyer tonight. My eyes had a mind of their own, trailing from her heels, up her legs, to the curve of her hips, and settling on the swell of her breasts—breasts that I've touched, tasted, and that were practically begging for my mouth again.

But my real weakness? The nape of her neck. That bare skin had me on my knees before she even said a word.

The drive to the restaurant was torture. Her scent was sweet and heady, wrapping around me like a drug I never wanted to quit. I was drowning in her, and I'd have happily let it take me under.

Then she started talking about Tate.

Fucking Tate.

Sure, I brought him up, and it's entirely my fault, but that doesn't change the fact that hearing her talk about him like he's an option set something off inside me.

---