Page 86 of The Ampersand Effect
Tobin’s fingers tightened around the soft cotton of the sweats she’d grabbed for Grier, needing something to anchor the electricity thrumming through her veins. She could see the lust burning in Grier’s eyes—but also registered something else. There was a slow, deliberate approach that felt almost predatory in its patience. It wasn’t just desire; it was restraint. A silent offering of time, of space. A chance to stop her.
“Slow?” Tobin managed, trying to process everything that was happening—and everything that was about to happen. She saw the slightest, almost imperceptible shake of Grier’s head as she continued climbing the stairs.
And Tobin knew. Instinctively. If she asked Grier to stop, she would. She’d step back, keep her distance, let Tobin retreat into the safety of slow and intentional.
She also knew, instinctively, that she mightliterallydie if Grier backed out now.
Grier reached the top of the stairs, meeting her at the landing. Tobin felt those amber eyes sweep over her face, reading every micro- expression. She stared back, cataloging each feature of Grier’s face. The elegant curve of Grier’s nose, the soft dip of her full upper lip. The tug of her mouth toward that singular, irresistible dimple. The faint indentation in the center of her chin. Every detail captivated her, each one achingly familiar, like she’d been studying Grier her entire life.
But the highlight of Tobin’s exploration centered on those eyes—deep, molten amber. The ones she’d willingly drown in, if only given the chance to swim.
“If you don’t want to do this,” Grier murmured, her voice calm, but husky with desire, “please tell me now. I don’t want to do anything you’re not absolutely certain about.”
The steadiness in Grier’s tone stripped Tobin bare. Adrenaline surged through her veins, anxiety and arousal tangled together. She saw Grier’s eyes flutter slightly, the way her breath caught as she fought to restrain herself.
Tobin’s gaze dropped, ashamed of the insecurities that rose in this moment when she wanted so desperately to be fearless.
Grier reached up to gently twirl a loose strand of Tobin’s hair between her fingers, then tucked it behind her ear. An arc of lightning streaked electric gold through the house, illuminating Grier’s face and casting shadows in its afterimage.
The gentleness in Grier’s touch weakened her—in the best of ways. It made her feel desired, safe, and aroused, all at once. But the safety was fleeting. Because this couldn’t be happening. Grier would never stay. She would never fall for her. Tobin waswasting their time, trying to convince herself that someone as beautiful, confident, kind—and loving—as Grier could ever deign to build a life, a home, and a family with someone as broken as her.
Tobin couldn’t stop the memories. The final fight with Talia crashed into her with the force of a tsunami. She could see the words they’d screamed at each other playing out like text around her head. It had started here—on this landing. Both of them devolving into screams, hurling spiteful accusations born of months of bottled pain. They had tried, desperately, to protect each other from their worst. Yet it had all come apart—in a horrible, fatal end.
Talia had screamed at her—how broken they both were because of Tobin’s accident. How neither of them would ever truly heal, because those scars weren’t tangible. They’d never be able to love each other like before, because neither one of them could trust that Tobin wouldn’t die. It was a futile game they were playing—staying together out of love. A broken, irreparable love. So Talia left. And Tobin pretended to heal.
But what Talia had said was true. Those scars weren’t tangible. They made her weak. Left her even more broken. So she’d erected a wall around her heart—and each time someone got close, she built another, pushing them away. Somewhere over the last several years, she’d erected a goddam fortress around her heart.
So why did it feel like Grier had somehow breached her impenetrable barriers? Like she’d reached in, located those scars—and was still standing there. Still wanting her. That couldn’t be possible.
Tobin wasn’t worthy of Grier. Tobin was broken.
“Talk to me, Tobin,” Grier commanded—gently. Hearing her name on Grier’s lips fortified her.
“I—you—we…” she choked, unsure how to start.
“That’s it, Tobin.We. This isn’t a you or a me situation. Not anymore. This iswe. We are here, together. We get to decide if this is what we want. We get to set our pace. And if it’s too soon, then we wait.”
Tobin trembled, wrapping her arms around her stomach as Grier continued.
“But you have to talk to me. Let me in. We can’t go any further than this moment—right here—if you’re not willing to tell me what’s scaring you.”
Tobin lifted her eyes to meet Grier’s at that. Grier could read her so well. It was pointless to hide anymore, because she trulydidwant tonight to continue on this trajectory. She wanted to sleep with Grier—to make her writhe under her touch, to hear her name uttered in reverent gasps.
She just wasn’t sure she was ready to betouchedby Grier—to give her that power. It was selfish, but she didn’t know if she could surrender herself. Yet.
“I want you.” Her gaze dropped against her will, unable to face the smug relief she knew would wash over Grier—her own cheeks burning with her confession.
“Yes, Tobin. I’m well aware of that,” Grier replied with quiet confidence, resting her hand on Tobin’s chest. Tobin knew she could feel the wild rhythm of her heart pounding beneath the still-damp button-up she’d worn on their hike.
Without another word, Grier cupped her jaw, aligning their eyes. Dark amber met green—steady, concerned, and sobering—as Grier mapped her face.
“I want you. Badly.” She inhaled deeply through her nose, then released a slow, shaky breath before letting it all out. “I haven’t been touched—reallytouched—since the accident. My ex—” she sighed, exasperated with herself and her history “—I’m broken. She said I’m broken.”
Grier stiffened at her words. Tobin wasn’t sure what to make of it, so she trudged on, trying to get it all out before she lost her nerve. “And I haven’t really felt safe enough with anyone to let them to touch… my… brokenness since.”
A crack of thunder interrupted her—so loud it rattled the house.
She stood there, in front of Grier—raw and wholly broken. She felt more vulnerable than she ever had. She hadn’t even realized she’d wrapped her arms around Grier during her monologue until she felt the warmth of the woman in her hold. She clung to her—childlike, desperate—bracing for the confirmation she was certain would come. That she was, in fact, irreparably damaged. She refused to let go until Grier made her. She was so tired of letting go.