Page 45 of The Ampersand Effect
“Hate you now, love you later?” Tobin asked, echoing one of Grier’s quippy catchphrases from their first encounter.
Grier was grateful Tobin was face down; her face colored so completely at the comment. Tobin had actually remembered one of her lines. But the gravity of the word choice was also heavy with uncertainty. Could Tobin be capable of loving her? The thought wedged a lump in her throat.
“Exactly.” It came out as a whisper. She didn’t try to correct it.
Grounding herself, she let her hands hover for a heartbeat, then carefully placed her hands on Tobin’s pelvis, gentlyapplying pressure to the large joints, feeling for telltale signs of poor joint mobility while monitoring Tobin’s breathing and muscle tone. Her hands shifted from the pelvis into the small of Tobin’s back, the edge of her shirt lifting with the movement. The instant her fingers met bare skin, heat ignited beneath them.
Grier swallowed hard, fighting to keep this professional. Tobin clearly needed the work—butdamn, if she didn’t want to trail her fingers down her spine in a less than therapeutic way. She rolled her thumb into the sensitive area around Tobin’s injury and felt the muscles tense beneath her touch. Tobin gripped the armrests on the table, knuckles blanching white.
Grier held her breath as uninvited visions of that same white- knuckled grip—born of want, not pain—rose unbidden behind her eyes. Her center clenched in hopeful want.
She slid her hands a little higher, fingertips grazing along Tobin’s lower ribs, just under the shirt. She watched the faint shiver ripple through Tobin, felt her skin pebble with goosebumps under her touch.
She probed, quiet and low, “Are you cold?”
Tobin didn’t answer right away. Grier felt her release a controlled breath, the color returning to her knuckles as she released the death grip on the armrests. Finally, a matter-of-fact, “No,” crossed her lips.
The ember of arousal ignited inside Grier. Her pulse quickened, a steady drumbeat in her ears. Her hands moved along Tobin’s back, craving more skin than she had any right to touch. The conflict between professionalism and passion raged within her. In the end, she reverted to physical instinct—her hands working autonomously while she internally confronted her ache of wanting.
Grier transitioned her treatment up the spine to the midback, between Tobin’s shoulder blades, kneading at the trigger pointsuntil a soft moan escaped her. The sound sent a shockingly pleasant jolt through Grier, heat sparking at the apex of her thighs.
She forced herself to focus, returning to the low back. Using the table levers, she lifted the cushions beneath Tobin, then placed her hands over her joints and delivered a swift thrust, the pieces dropping with a soft thud that influenced movement in Tobin’s spine. She repeated this process along the length of Tobin’s spine, catching herself holding her breath—anticipating the next touch, the inevitable flicker that leapt beneath her fingers like an electric current within the skin, and Tobin was the charge.
“I’m ready to work on your neck, if you’d like.” The offer came softer than she intended, her longing for Tobin’s consent to delay the end of treatment. Their past interactions had never ended with closure, and she didn’t trust that Tobin would stick around once the treatment was over. Her emotions danced inside her. She wasn’t ready to let the moment end. She could sense their connection strengthening, she hoped she could imbue her interest and intentions, safely, through her touch. She wasn’t done treating. She wasn’t done touching.
Tobin rolled onto her back, cautious but smooth, her eyes still closed.
Grier pulled a rolling stool to the head of the table. From there, she watched Tobin’s chest rise and fall, the rhythm deep and deliberate—controlled. Was she still in pain? The movement alone said improvement, she shouldn’t need to govern her breath.
Grier wrapped her hands around both sides of Tobin’s neck and gently tugged her skull upward, distracting her spine and relieving tension. She felt Tobin stiffen, then soften in her hands. Sliding her thumbs along the cords of muscle framing Tobin’s throat, she felt the swallow under her fingers, heard her breathcatch. Only then did Grier realize she was holding her own—and released it cautiously, trying to steady her racing pulse.
Grier wound her thumb beneath the collar of Tobin’s shirt, tracing the taut line of muscle above her clavicle. Her fingers followed the curve of Tobin’s shoulder blade, kneading lightly until she felt the tension shift beneath her touch. Her own heartbeat quickened. Tobin’s chest rose in an uneven rhythm, breath fluttering against the silence. Grier cradled the back of her neck and drew her head gently away from her contact along the shoulder top.
With Tobin’s head turned, Grier could watch the exposed thrum of her pulse. It beat thready and fast, and punctuated the soft skin of Tobin’s neck in an alluring plea. She was so close. If she leaned forward just slightly, she could set the pulse between her lips and feel the response in her tongue, knowing Tobin’s body would respond in ways she couldn’t fight.
While she was distracted by the siren call of Tobin’s pulse, she didn’t notice Tobin’s knuckles blanched white—fists clenched tight against the invisible force of arousal. When Grier returned Tobin’s head to neutral, Tobin exhaled, guttural and faint, a sound that trembled with restraint.
Grier’s gaze shifted to Tobin’s chest, where the thin, creamy cotton did little to hide her vivid pink sports bra beneath. Grier could see the peaks of her nipples fighting against the fabric, raising her shirt in a beguiling summons that Grier was craving to answer.
She couldn’t ignore it anymore. Tobin’s body was physically manifesting everything Grier felt inside. Their mirrored arousal was pleading for an outlet. Every restraint she’d employed to resist this moment suddenly broke, leaving her unfettered and breathless. She knew, innately, that Tobin felt it, too. Her body couldn’t hide—not anymore. She was too exposed, and Grier was too attuned to miss it. She didn’t want to push too far, but shewanted—needed—to unstopper the bottled chemistry between them.
Her heart was racing. Her pulse drummed in her ears so loudly she could’ve sworn Tobin could hear it. Her hands trembled with restrained lust, reduced to a faint vibration as she maintained her grip on Tobin’s shoulder.
She lowered her head beside Tobin’s, her lips hovering within inches of her ear. Tobin’s chest rose and fell in shudders, her body betraying every flicker of arousal under Grier’s gaze. Grier searched for cues to stop her pursuit.
“Tobin?” she rasped—lower, and more sultry than she’d intended. But the effect only deepened her lust.
She felt Tobin tense beneath her touch, her breath catching in her throat. Grier’s eyes flicked to the delicate column of Tobin’s neck, where her pulse danced savagely, racing against the thin, soft skin. Grier smiled, enjoying the effects she had on Tobin.
“Your body’s failing to camouflage your feelings,” she murmured. A beat passed before she added, “Your breath’s ragged and short. You’re clenching your fists despite my gentle touch… and your pulse is thrumming as fast as mine.”
Tobin tensed even more, her breath stalling as if awaiting Grier’s next move.
Grier brought her lips to edge of Tobin’s ear, grazing her seductively. “I think I can make your pulse race even faster.”
Tobin uttered the most fractured whimper Grier had ever heard. She felt her body respond viscerally, a shiver coursing through her. She leaned closer, whispering, “Care to test my theory?”
The words had barely left her lips before Tobin reached for her face, pulling their inverted mouths together in a rush of heat and need. Tobin’s lips parted in a soft moan—an invitation Grier greedily accepted, chasing it with her tongue.