62. Amelia
Chapter 62
Amelia
O ne hundred and seventy-five days without Tobias.
Well, aside from that brief trip he made to Pennsylvania. But still—one hundred and seventy-five days since I left him in Chicago.
Not that I’ve been counting.
Each day without him has felt longer than the last, each night spent staring at my ceiling, wondering if missing someone can actually drive you insane. It's the longest we've been apart, and saying it's been hard doesn't begin to scratch the surface of this bone-deep ache. But something changed after his surprise visit—after we stood together against our parents' judgment, their disgust, their desperate attempts to convince us that what we have is something to feel ashamed of.
They don't understand, and they probably never will. And that's okay.
Because what we have isn't for them to understand. It's ours. It always has been.
As we pull into the city, the bus wheels rumble beneath me, and my pulse kicks up like it knows I'm getting closer to him.
The tour wrapped a week early—a gift I didn't expect but grabbed onto with both hands.
However, I haven't told Tobias.
Instead, I called Lola at the studio, and she worked her magic to squeeze me into his schedule. Her laugh echoed through the phone when I explained my plan, understanding exactly why I needed this moment to be perfect.
I hop in the shower, adrenaline and nerves coursing through me as I prepare to surprise my guy. I throw on something that walks the line between casual and I haven't seen you in two months, and I want your hands all over me —because six months of separation deserves a little effort.
My car, bless its neglected soul, starts without protest despite sitting dormant for half a year. The drive to the studio feels like both an eternity and no time at all, my pulse hammering in sync with the anticipation building in my chest.
I pull up outside the studio, tires crunching against the gravel as I put the car into park. The engine barely has a chance to settle before I’m out, the door swinging shut behind me.
I step inside, and there he is—all broad shoulders and focus as he cleans his equipment, completely oblivious to the way my whole body hums just being in his space again.
"I'll be with you in a second."
"It's rude to keep a lady waiting." The words come out playful but charged, and I watch his entire body freeze.
He spins around so fast his tools hit the floor with a clatter that echoes through the studio. He quickly closes the distance between us, slamming his hand against the door as he flips the sign to "closed." Then, his mouth is on mine—his lips press hard, and his tongue sweeps in, as if he's staking his claim with every kiss.
His fingers move to tangle in my hair, and his tongue slides against mine like he's trying to taste every second we've been apart. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing more.
When he finally breaks away, his forehead presses against mine. "If you're not my next client, I swear to fucking god, I'm quitting."
"I talked to Lola." The confession comes out breathlessly as my lips curve against his.
"No wonder she bailed." His hands tighten in my hair, coaxing me into another kiss that's slower but just as intense. "Let's go."
"Wait." I press my hands against his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath my palms. "You're forgetting I have an appointment."
His eyebrow arches, that dangerous glint I love sparking in his eyes. "You want a tattoo?"
"That's why I'm here."
"That right?" The words rumble from his chest as his teeth catch my bottom lip, sending electricity down my spine. "Get in the chair."
My laugh echoes through the empty studio as I move past him and settle into the leather seat.
"So," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that register that makes my toes curl. "What do you want?"
"I want you to choose," I say, my voice steady despite the heat building between us. "And I want it to be small."
Tobias tilts his head, those blue eyes burning into mine. "And where are we doing this?"
Instead of answering, I slide my skirt up over my hips, leaving nothing but a scrap of pink lace between his gaze and my skin. His eyes darken instantly, locked on the place where my thighs meet, and I trail my finger just above the thin line of lace, pointing to the spot I want.
"Right here." The words come out breathier than I intended, heavy with weeks of wanting him.
"You're killing me, baby."
He sets up his station but pauses to pull out a cigarette. He lights it up, and the smoke wraps around him like some bad boy halo, adding an edge to how already devastatingly sexy he looks.
"Don't you dare tell Lola I smoked in here, or she'll have my balls." He exhales slowly, the smoke curling from his lips. "But I can't sit here with my face and hands that close to your pussy and not be eating it, so I need a fucking distraction."
God, I've missed his mouth.
"You ready?"
I nod, and the sound of the tattoo machine whirring to life sends electricity shooting through me. I've never been marked like this before, but I've spent countless hours tracing his ink with my fingers and lips, learning the stories written on his skin. Now it's my turn to carry a piece of him with me.
The first bite of the needle makes me gasp. It's not agony, but it's also not gentle—similar to how it felt falling for him.
"You good?" he asks, his voice low yet completely focused.
"Yeah."
I couldn't look away from him if I tried. The way he works is hypnotic. He's in his element, and it's impossible not to be captivated by him.
I can't see what he's creating, but it doesn't matter. Watching Tobias—his concentration, the way his brows furrow, the way he occasionally glances up at me with that wicked glint in his eyes—has me spellbound.
The sting of the needle fades to the background, and all I can focus on is him.
Always him.
Every now and then, Tobias pauses, his hand hovering like he's fighting a losing battle with himself. When the needle bites a little deeper and I let out a sharp hiss, his eyes snap closed for a moment, like he's collecting every ounce of restraint he has. Then he stops entirely, the hum of the machine dying as he looks up at me.
"You okay?"
"Are you?" I counter with a smirk, meeting his gaze head-on.
His eyes darken, his lips twitching into something predatory. "You realize I can smell how fucking wet you are, don't you?" he says, going back to his work. His voice is rough, gravelly, like it's taking every shred of his focus to keep his hands steady. "You have no idea how hard it is for me not to slide your panties to the side."
Without warning, his mouth finds my inner thigh. The kiss he plants there isn't gentle, yet my body responds instantly, clenching around nothing.
"Now stop talking and let me finish this," he growls against my skin, "or you're only getting half a tattoo."
The next ten minutes are pure torture. Every buzz of the needle, every deliberate stroke, sends a slow burn through me that has nothing to do with pain. And when he finally wipes away the last traces of ink, his fingers linger—dragging over my skin like he can’t help himself.
Tobias sits up for a moment, giving me room to glance down at my hip, and my breath catches. The skin is still red, glistening under a thin layer of ointment he applied, and I see two interlocked hearts, the left trail fading backward while the right trail carves a bold, unbroken path forward.
"It's so pretty. What made you choose that?"
He touches the path below the left trail. "This is our past, leading us here." He points to the first heart. "This is mine." Then he moves to the second heart, which is tangled with the first. "This is yours." Finally, he drags his finger along the future trail. "And this? That's whatever the hell we decide it's going to be."
His fingers hover just above my skin, tracing invisible patterns on my thigh.
My hand instinctively slides into his hair, tugging gently as my chest tightens with a mix of love and desire.
"It's beautiful," I say, my voice a quiet rasp.
"You're beautiful," he replies, lowering his mouth to the top of my panties. His lips brush just below my navel, sending heat spiraling through my core.
"Tobias," his name leaves my lips in one desperate breath, "if you keep touching me like that, I’ll be walking out of here with your cum dripping down my thighs."
"You want me to fuck you, baby?" I nod, catching my lip between my teeth, but his dark smile spreads as his hands force my thighs wider, exposing everything. "Not before I've eaten."
My breath catches as his lips press to the inside of my thigh, his tongue flicking against my skin while he pins me down like he owns my body.
"Now lie back and spread those legs, Firefly, because I'm not stopping until I've got you screaming. You're gonna soak my tongue, drench my face, and when you fucking squirt for me, I'm taking every drop."