Page 66 of The Ampersand Effect

“Are we done with the heavy talk for the day? I’m not sure this non-date can withstand much more.”

Tobin chuckled airily, the last of her tension and insecurity drifting away like smoke. “Yes, we’re done. At least I don’t have any more major revelations. Do you?” She asked tentatively.

“Nothing so big as having a fertility appointment scheduled at the start of a new romance, no.” Tobin could hear the playful smile on Grier’s lips as she teased her.

She squeezed Grier from behind, savoring how comfortably she fit against her body. The squeeze inadvertently brought Tobin’s lips near the sensitive skin just behind Grier’s ear, and when she grazed it, she felt Grier tense in her arms—a little gasp escaping her lips. Or was that a moan?

Neither of them moved. But the embers were stoking, and Tobin knew they both felt the air around them shift, charging.

Not a date. Not a date. Not. A. Date. We are taking this slow.

She pulled back, just slightly. Grier shuddered, whether from the accidental brush of Tobin’s mouth or from the sudden chill that hit them both as their bodies gapped, Tobin couldn’t tell. But she knew she wanted to find out. Tentatively—but with a confidence she didn’t truly feel—Tobin traced her fingers over the spot her lips had just touched. Grier’s body responded before the next soft gasp left her throat—and this time, it was followed by an unmistakable moan.

Tobin was certain this woman was going to give her a heart attack. She couldn’t recall the last time her pulse had felt steady.

She continued to stroke that small erogenous zone behind Grier’s ear, and Grier met her movements with wordless consent— tilting her head, not to pull away, but to expose more of her neck. An invitation. Tobin didn’t need further encouragement.

She slid her fingers forward, wrapping them gently around Grier’s throat, the charge of Grier’s skin like lighting beneath her fingertips. Her fingers traced along the collar of Grier’s sweater in a slow, sultry crawl until they found what they were searching for: the pendant resting against the top of Grier’s sternum. It was warm— Grier’s warmth—and it was like a spark to kindling. Tobin’s mind flashed to every fantasy she’d had of darting her tongue through the pendant to taste Grier’s soft skin. And now, that fantasy was literally in her grasp.

She felt Grier’s hand reach for her own over the pendant and knew she’d gone too far. The necklace meant something to Grier, and Tobin wasn’t going to find out what that was today. Tonight? Time had passed beyond her knowledge. But the deepening twilight told her enough—the sun had settled below the horizon, blanketing the world in soft blues and purples.

Grier gently entwined her fingers with the ones Tobin had been using to explore her skin and the pendant. “This is a story I need to share with you—but that can wait for another time. It’s nothing that will change our trajectory. But it will give you some insight into… me.”

Tobin didn’t answer. She knew Grier already understood that whenever she chose to share it, Tobin would be a captive audience.

“In the interest of keeping things slow, I should go home,” Grier said quietly.

Tobin gave her a small squeeze in acknowledgement but still didn’t speak. Her throat was thick with longing, and she liked being able to convey her emotions without words—and knowing she was understood.

They rose together, and Tobin walked Grier to the front door. Their goodbye stretched into a long, lingering hug before Grier finally stepped across the threshold and disappeared into the night. When her car started, Tobin closed the door and leanedagainst it, smiling—big, stupid, and completely unable to stop herself. She pressed a finger to her throat, feeling her pulse begin to slow after a marathon of a day.

Pushing off the door, she headed into the kitchen to clean up—and stopped short. A phone sat on the counter. Tobin frowned, patting her back pocket. Her own was exactly where she’d left it.

It had to be Grier’s.

Tobin grabbed the phone and hurried to the front door in a flurry of footsteps, hoping to catch Grier before she pulled away. She swung the door open—then froze.

Grier stood there, arm raised, poised to knock.

Sixteen

Grier stood in front of Tobin, fist suspended midair. She didn’t want to go. She hadn’t meant to leave her phone behind, but since she had, she was hesitant to waste the opportunity. They were supposed to be taking things slow. Butdamnif she didn’t want a kiss. Even one. One goodnight kiss wasn’t too fast, right? That was reasonable.

All she wanted was one reasonably lengthy kiss to remind her of their first and promise her their next.

Then Tobin opened the door before she could knock—and promptly knocked the wind out of her. She stood there in skinny jeans, a white shirt half-tucked at the waist, the V of her neckline dipping dangerously—deliciously—close to the swell of her breasts.

Who was she kidding? She didn’t want one kiss—she wanted all of them. Preferably with Tobin pressed up against the wall, their hands roaming with reckless intent, searching for skin. She’d been soaked for hours, restraining the urge to climb on top of Tobin while they sat so close, tempered only by the weight of their unexpectedly deep—and surprisingly not red-flag-raising—conversations.

When she noticed her phone in Tobin’s hand, her guilt must have been obvious. Tobin stood before her, realization dawning in her eyes before rapidly being replaced by something else. Something darker.

They continued to stare at each other. Grier could feel it— neither of them wanted to break the fragile grasp on their promise to take things slow. But she recognized her own desire for expediency, thrumming through the space between them.

Grier met Tobin’s eyes—the green-gray swirls darkening before her. “If I cross your threshold, I can’t promise I’ll have restraint.”

Tobin cocked an eyebrow, a haughty half-smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Grier wanted to suck that smile between her teeth and bite a little too hard, admonishing Tobin’s tease.

Then Tobin’s face lit up as a whole, an air of mischievousness plainly readable.