Page 42 of The Ampersand Effect

Tobin nodded silently.

Grier eased the hem of Tobin’s shirt up her back and tugged the waistband of her joggers down just enough to work. Her breath caught despite herself. More ink curved along Tobin’s ribs and flank, disappearing under the fabric. Grier bit her lower lip, hard enough to taste copper.

Grier had to fist her hands to prevent herself from tracing the intricate linework along Tobin’s ribs. Her eyes roved hungrily over the slender limbs of a cherry tree in bloom, its branches curling around her torso and disappearing beneath the edge of her shirt. Just visible was the lower half of a compass, its southern arrow flaring into ornate accents.

She ached to lift the fabric higher, to sensually trace the clean black lines with her fingertips, to feel what her eyes could only imagine.

The taste of copper in her mouth reminded her that she wasnot, in fact, supposed to be fantasizing about the woman on her table.

She tore her focus back to her work, swabbing Tobin’s skin with alcohol before delicately placing acupuncture needles along her lower back and the curve of her modestly exposed hip. Every brush of skin beneath her fingertips caused a forceful flip in her stomach. She tried to push the intrusive thoughts from her mind, but she was losing her will to fight the visions that promenaded behind her eyelids.

Grier attached electrodes to the needles and quietly asked Tobin to let her know when the current felt strong enough. She set a timer on her watch as she added, “It’s a twenty-minutetreatment— are you comfortable if I head upstairs for a minute? I’ll update Harrow so she has an idea of how much longer you’ll be. Do you need anything? Music? A blanket?”

“I wouldn’t mind some music. Silence and I don’t get along very well.”

“Any requests?” Grier asked, already climbing the stairs. “Surprise me.”

She shut the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, steadying her heartbeat with a deep, measured breath. She fiddled with the pendant at her neckline while she pulled out her phone, connected to the basement audio system, and queued up an instrumental Taylor Swift station.

Pushing away from the door, she crossed to the living room. Several sets of eyes lifted as she entered. Delta was snuggled up to Lake on the floor, reading a book.

“How is she?” Harrow asked quickly, sitting forward.

“She’s not broken. That’s the good news. I have her on acupuncture needles right now, hoping that’ll calm the muscles enough for me to adjust her and dig into the tissues a bit. She’s too hot right now for me to get anywhere.”

Harrow looked at her, eyes widening.

Shit. “Um… hot means inflamed, painful, swollen, et cetera. It hurts—she isn’t embellishing. She’s in pretty bad shape.”

Grier watched Harrow’s shoulders relax, and a small twitch of a smile split across her face, a trace of knowing behind it.

“I’ll head back down in a bit, but figured I’d let her try to relax for now. You can go check on her if you want,” Grier offered, hoping it would give her a chance to talk to Grove and Grant alone.

“Hmm. I trust she’s in good hands with you. If you say she needs to relax, then I’ll let her relax.”

Okay, then,Grier thought sardonically.

“Works for me,” Grier said, flopping onto the couch next to Grant.

Harrow crossed her legs again, settling back into her seat, her posture loosening.

An awkward silence settled in the room. No one wanted to disturb the fragile veil of solidarity—the unspoken awareness of the sexual tension between Grier and Tobin, and the stalled momentum that staunched its explosion. No one dared pierce the agreeable gag order.

Grier closed her eyes and rested the backs of her hands against her forehead. She stage whispered, careful to keep her voice low enough that Delta wouldn’t overhear.

“Well, I know you weren’t up here discussing the obvious shit show that this entire situation is, so can we just acknowledge that itisone and move on to whatever you were discussing when I came up?”

Grove snickered.

Grant gave her an apologetic look.

Harrow cleared her throat, startled at her unabashed outburst. “Tobin said you were direct.”

Grier met her eyes. Recognition flickered between them. And then they both burst into laughter.

“This is super awkward, isn’t it?” Harrow sputtered through laughter.

“Definitely.” Grier wiped at her eyelids, laughter still trembling in her chest, the evidence of her fit glistening but not quite spilling over her eyelids. “Sometimes I think I could star in my own soap opera. Like, you can’t make this shit up.”