20. Amelia
Chapter 20
Amelia
I left my purse at the bar, and after running away from Tobias, I find myself strolling into the empty building. I hesitate, glancing around. Where is everyone? The door was unlocked, but the entire place has been abandoned.
I walk over to the table, but my purse is nowhere to be seen. I know I left it right here, but it's gone.
"This what you're looking for?" Zane emerges from the darkness, my purse dangling from his hand. He moves like he owns the space—part shadow, part promise—familiar yet impossible to fully see.
"Oh my god, thank you," I say, reaching out, but as the bar door flies open with a loud bang, he pulls it just out of my grasp, his smirk almost playful, as if he's challenging me.
"Amelia!" Tobias strides in, shirtless, his skin catching a faint glow that shouldn't be there.
"Why are you following me?"
"You forgot something," he says, and before I can respond, his mouth is on mine. Hard. Possessive. The kind of kiss that rewrites reality.
My head spins as I pull back, breathless. When I turn to look at Zane, he's also shirtless, and somehow my purse has appeared on the table as if by magic.
"Sit on the table, Amelia." Zane's voice is thicker, his Southern accent stronger. "And spread your legs."
"Do it, Firefly," Tobias whispers in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "Do what he says. You know you want to."
My skin prickles with anticipation as I find myself sliding onto the table, almost like I'm moving through a thick fog. Delicate pink lace replaces my white dress, and I don't even question it—nothing feels out of place here.
Both men close in, their hands tracing over my skin, their lips brushing my neck, thighs, and my chest while their fingers thread through my hair. Every touch blurs together, dizzying and consuming, leaving me weightless, and caught between them.
Zane lowers himself to his knees, his breath hot against my inner thigh. "You can only have one of us, Amelia."
"One?"
"Those are the rules, Firefly," Tobias murmurs, pulling my head back, his tongue sliding against mine. "Choose."
I glance down, where Zane waits between my thighs, his face obscured, hidden in shadow.
Tobias's hand slides into my hair, pulling my gaze back to him. "You know who it is, Firefly. You've always known." His lips brush against mine, not quite a kiss, but a promise. And I know I don't need to say a word; my answer is already written in my eyes, a truth that only he understands.
It'll only ever be him.
His smile pulls me in as his mouth traces the lace of my bra, lips warm against my skin. I tip my head back, eyes on the ceiling, and for a moment, I'm lost in the sensation, the room fading away as his mouth trails over me… kissing… sucking… beeping… beep… beep…
I turn my head and catch sight of Harry running toward me with his mouth hanging open, and a robotic "Beep… beep… beep" leaves him as he jogs in place, his legs moving but not actually taking him anywhere.
"Look at me, Mills," Tobias's voice cuts in, his tone commanding, grounding me back to him. My eyes snap to his, but the beeping grows louder.
"Beep… beep… beep," Harry chants, and my gaze flicks between him and Tobias. But then I look down, and there's Zane, gazing up at me from the floor, his eyes dark like he's waiting for me to say something—to guide him.
"Me, Mills, look at me." Tobias's voice breaks through again, pulling me back to him, but the beeping morphs, stretching out in a low, endless beeeeeep…
I shoot up in my bed as the remnants of my dream cling to me. My mouth feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, and I slap blindly at my phone, silencing the alarm that's screaming at me like it fucking hates me.
I groan, sinking back into my pillow, practically begging sleep to pull me under again just so I can fall back into the hazy, forbidden dream that I shouldn't be okay with. But try telling that to the traitorous little pulse between my legs that's got other ideas.
Not that I should even want it back, given the questionable content. I mean, dreaming about somebody else's guy? Messy . Though, if we're getting technical, Tobias was the only one who really touched me—the only one who kissed me, so maybe I get a pass? Besides, it's hardly my fault that I was surrounded by stupidly attractive men last night. If a few of their faces wandered into my subconscious and made themselves comfortable, well, that's between me and my dreams.
However, there's one twist that I never saw coming.
Tobias finds me attractive.
Or at least he did last night, anyway.
He was drunk and stuck here with me after not going home with the girl from the bar. She wasn't the one he ended up with. That was me. Alone here, just us under the same roof, like so many times before, except this time it was different.
Jesus, I practically cockblocked him, leaving him with no outlet, and all that pent-up tension had nowhere to go but straight at me. And it wasn't some subtle, maybe-I'm-imagining-it vibe; it was right there, loud and impossible to ignore.
But since it's a new day, I'll play ignorant and act as if last night never happened because acknowledging it would mean facing something I'm not sure either of us is ready for.
I glance at my phone and check the time. There's no way Tobias will be up before nine on a Sunday morning.
I roll out of bed too quickly, regret punching me square in the skull as the hangover from hell settles in.
Reaching for a pair of green fluffy socks, I slide them on, desperate for some relief after a night of torturing my feet with heels. A loose cardigan follows, wrapped around the shorts and tank top I somehow managed to change into before collapsing into bed last night.
I walk past Tobias's closed door, relief washing over me when I see no sign of him as I make my way to the kitchen, hunting for ibuprofen and coffee like they're my lifeline. His door is firmly shut, and I can only hope he's as wrecked by last night's tequila as I am.
Stay in there, Tobias. Sleep it off.
I shuffle into the kitchen, beelining for the coffee machine. My fingers are already reaching for the ibuprofen, shaking two pills into my palm like they're the answer to all my problems.
Then I hear it.
Tobias's door opens, and my body tenses, every nerve aware of his presence even before he enters the room. I hear his footsteps, each one sending my thoughts spiraling. I try to brace myself, my fingers drumming against the counter as I rehearse casual, neutral, not-about-to-combust energy.
But then he steps into the kitchen andcasualdies a brutal death.
"Morning, Firefly," Tobias says, his voice low and rough, edged with just enough gravel to remind me of last night's alcohol.
"Morning." I fight to keep my tone as light as possible. "Coffee?"
"Yeah, please."
When I finally turn to face him, it's like the universe is trying to test me, and I'm really not in the mood to play along. Tobias is leaning back against the kitchen island, arms casually resting by his sides, his fingers gripping the edge. He's shirtless; tattoos spread across his chest and shoulders, curling over his muscles while his pierced nipples catch the light. If that wasn't enough, he's only wearing a pair of low-slung sweatpants that barely cling to his hips, revealing a flawless V-line that shouldn't be on display before I've even had coffee.
"Did you sleep okay?"I ask.
After you practically forced me to get as far away from you as possible.
"Out like a light the second my head hit the pillow. You?"
"Yeah, I think so. Last night's a little fuzzy, you know."
"That last shot must've hit you pretty hard, considering I had to carry your ass back here,"he says, watching me as I pour two mugs of coffee. I wrap my hands around my own, leaving his beside the machine.
"That was because of my shoes, not the alcohol."
His nod and the slight darkening of his gaze say everything he doesn't, everything he won't, because he doesn't need to—not when I've confirmed that I remember every detail from last night just fine.
"I was going to get some practice in today, but I think I'll go back to bed. I need to rest my feet. I'll see you later."
"Wait a minute."He shifts, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Look, if I was an ass last night, I'm sorry. I was drunk… I didn't mean to be a dick."
We've never let an argument come between us. Tobias can't stand going to bed angry, and neither can I. Even last night, he wouldn't let me walk away without apologizing. But whatever's happening here is different, and we both know it.