40. Amelia
Chapter 40
Amelia
L ast night, my stepbrother went down on me.
That's all I'll have to say when they lock me up for doing something so absurd, so reckless, that even I can't fully believe it happened. But do I regret it? No. God, no. Not when I can still see the way his mouth moved against me, and definitely not when I swallowed his cum, finally satiating the dark, desperate desire to know how he tasted.
Afterward, Tobias and I talked for a little while, casual as hell, like he hadn't just ruined me in the best way possible, leaving pieces of himself imprinted on me in ways I'll never be able to undo.
And now I'm awake, still satisfied from last night but aching for more of him.
Craving him.
Sleep wasn't an option, so all I did last night was pack my stuff. My hands moved like they had a mind of their own, shoving clothes in my bag while my brain tortured me with an endless replay of the night. The kiss at the restaurant. The raw hunger in Tobias's eyes. The way he looked at me after I'd had my mouth around him—my lips still swollen, my throat raw in that delicious way that reminded me I wasn't just with him last night. I belonged to him.
But it wasn't the physical ache that kept me awake. It wasn't even the memory of how he tasted or the way his thighs shook as he came. It was the care I saw in his eyes that stayed with me.
It's been there for as long as I can remember, this quiet but fierce protectiveness Tobias has always had for me. However, it's evolved into something deeper— something so much more than I ever imagined.
My common sense packed her bags and left the building the moment his lips touched mine. Now all I've got is this ache between my legs and the terrifying knowledge that one hit of Tobias will never be enough.
What happens now?
Is the thirst for each other gone now that we've had a taste? For me, it's only gotten stronger. There's this insatiable need to feel him again that scares the hell out of me because where does it stop? What happens when it ends?
Do we pretend this weekend never happened? Do we force ourselves to date other people because we know we can never date each other?
This only ends one way: with my heart scattered across our apartment floor.
And if I know anything about Tobias Sinclair, it's that he never thinks past his dick. At least, he never has before. I know he'll be careful with me—he's not cruel. I know him well enough to know he'd never intentionally hurt me, but that almost makes it worse. Because when this burns out, he'll move on, and I'll be stuck replaying every stolen moment, trying to piece myself back together.
And yet, even knowing all that, I still want more of him. I want him to ruin me in ways I can't come back from. I want him to make me forget, even for a few hours, that this thing between us has an expiration date stamped on it in big, bold letters. Because being broken by Tobias would hurt less than never knowing what it feels like to be whole with him.
I grab my bags and drag them outside my room, planting myself in front of his bedroom door. My heart slams against mychestas I stare at the wood, wondering how the hell we even got here.
What am I supposed to say to him?
Hey, bro, ready to forget your tongue was in my pussy last night while we're stuck in a car for half a day?
Yeah, no. That's lame as shit.
But there's no avoiding this, so I knock, trying to brace myself for whatever version of Tobias waits on the other side.
When he answers, his hair is damp and dripping from the shower, and he's wearing nothing but a towel slung so low on his hips that I can see every cut of muscle leading down to where my mouth was last night.
And fuck me, I am not prepared.
Those tattoos I've been dying to run my lips across are still beaded with water, and that nipple piercing is practically begging me to flick it with my tongue, just to see if it makes him as crazy as I imagine it would.
"Morning, Firefly," he says, smiling like he doesn't have a care in the world.
"Well, it's good to see you're ready to leave," I shoot back, pushing past him into the room and dropping onto the edge of his bed.
"I just gotta throw on some clothes." He gestures to his bags with that infuriatingly sexy smirk. "Look, everything's packed."
"You know I'm happy to drive back and meet you at home if you want to fly," I offer, testing the waters, seeing if he'll take the out I'm giving him. But instead of answering, he drops his towel.
My breath catches in my throat, only to die when I realize he's already wearing underwear.
Disappointment? Yeah, I'm feeling that in spades.
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Because it's faster," I say weakly, watching him as he gets dressed.
"But why would I want to do that, Mills? Why would I choose to fly alone when I could drive back with you?"
Oh, fuck me. He really is going to break my heart, isn't he?
"Okay, but you can drive first. I didn't sleep that well."
"Weird," he says, his smile widening as his teeth graze his bottom lip in a way that sends heat pooling low in my stomach. "I had the best night's sleep I think I've ever had."
That smug look should annoy me, but instead, it feels like a lifeline, like he's offering me a way back to him, making it easy for us to fall back into each other.
"Seriously though," he says, his voice softening. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, all good. I just need to get back to my own bed, and, you know… three days of my mom is just…" I roll my eyes because my mom is exhausting, and I barely tolerate her from six hundred miles away.
"I think they're downstairs, actually," I add. "Waiting to say goodbye."
He nods, and I can't help but wonder how much longer I'll have this version of him before things change… before they shift so much that we can't go back to where we started.
Tobias carries both my bags and his own down the stairs, placing them by the front door.
"Dad? Kayla? We're going," he calls out, his voice booming through the house. My mom and David stroll into the foyer, dressed like they're off to meet royalty rather than just heading to brunch or whatever they do to keep up appearances.
After the world's most awkward goodbye routine—hugs exchanged only between my mom and me and her and Tobias because David's got all the warmth of a corpse—we're finally free.
"Nine thirty a.m.," I say, clicking my seatbelt into place. "Hopefully, we'll be home before midnight."
"As long as we don't stop too often, we'll be fine." His voice is calm as his fingers tap against the steering wheel.
"Good, because I really don't want to stay another night in a motel," I mutter, trying not to think about the last time we were stuck in one.
"There's no fucking way we're stopping at a motel."
"You didn't seem to mind the first time."
"It's different now," he shoots back, glancing at me before returning his attention to the road.
"Why?"
"Because my cock wants inside you, and I refuse for our first time to be in a motel on the side of the road," he says, his voice calm, like he's just discussing something as simple as the weather. "But I also know that if I have to share a bed with you again, I'm not going to let you sleep until you know exactly how it feels to be fucked by me. So getting home tonight is the only option."
And I'm speechless. My mouth opens, but no words come out. My brain is scrambling to process what he just said while my body is already reacting.
I can't stop staring at him—at the lazy confidence in his posture, the way his eyes keep finding mine in between watching the road.
"What?" he asks, as if he didn't just wreck me with a single sentence. "Unless you want me to ruin you in a trashy motel because if you do, I'll stop at the next one we pass."
"Okay, hold up. What?" My voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, and his lips curl into that wicked smirk that makes me want to climb into his lap.
"Baby, I'm gonna be fucking you. And often. So make your peace with it because I know you want me—you just don't know how to ask for it."
My hands fumble for my sunglasses as I try to hide how affected I am by his words. I shove them onto my face, sinking back into the seat as I try to pull myself together.
"This is gonna be a long fucking drive," I mutter, more to myself than to him, but the grin spreading across his face tells me he heard every word.