Chapter 9 #2
“Have I rendered you speechless?” Tobin teased, though her pulse quickened. She realized she’d very much like to take Grier’s breath away in far more literal ways—ones that involved fewer words and even fewer clothes.
“It took me at least three more days to fantasize about stripping you,” Grier said, her voice steady and certain.
And with that, Grier utterly destroyed the composure Tobin had struggled to maintain.
Tobin misstepped but quickly recovered. “Fuck.”
Was Grier smirking? This woman—and this conversation— were dizzying.
Tobin could no longer tell who had control; it was unraveling her.
She was tensing from the efforts to restrain her libido.
Her body was urging her to pursue this woman.
Her mouth, however, seemed hell-bent on betrayal—encouraging a depth of intimacy that her mind was starting to balk at. Was she really ready for this?
She swallowed the lump in her throat—and a bit of her pride. “You’re forward.”
Without hesitation, Grier met her gaze. “I’m not trying to embarrass you.
I’m just trying to show you can’t embarrass me.
I won’t be cuckolded into inauthenticity.
I am who I am. I’m a proud lesbian, and I’m not ashamed of my body or my physical desires.
And I’m definitely not ashamed of the very specific, very X-rated fantasies you’ve starred in since the moment I met you.
Life’s too short—too fragile—to not ask for what you want. ”
Tobin stared at her, mouth agape—much like Grier’s had been moments earlier. She coughed, trying to clear her throat and reorganize her brain, which had derailed at the understanding that this tiny, proud woman had just confessed to multiple fantasies involving undressing her.
Her clit throbbed. She had no idea what those fantasies entailed, but damn, she wanted to volunteer as tribute to act out every single one of them.
“Tobin,” she finally managed, her voice dry and heavy.
Grier stood before her, very obviously aware of the effect she was having on her—and relishing it. “For the record, any effect you have on me, I return evenly. Consider yourself warned.”
“Noted.” Tobin still struggled to speak. She should go. She needed to release her mind and libido from the mental gymnastics Grier had just performed. Gold medal awarded, no contest.
“Auntie?” a small voice called from behind them.
Grier turned and reached for Delta, sweeping a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “Hi, honey. What’s up? Are you having fun?”
“I’m tired. Can we go home?” Delta’s eyes fluttered, heavy with fatigue. Grier checked her phone for the time, and Tobin caught a glimpse of the screen. 11:11 p.m. Saved by the niece. The kid was growing on her.
When Grier looked back at Tobin, the fatigue on her face was unmistakable. The day had probably taken everything out of her— anticipating the awards ceremony, managing her nerves, and their conversation leaving little room for emotional reprieve.
How had almost two hours passed while they danced and talked?
Tobin suspected she could lose a lot more than time to Grier. And it wasn’t as terrifying a thought as it had been at the start of the night. She was beginning to think that this might be worth it. That Grier would be worth it.
“I should find my brother and get her home.” She looked at Tobin—more reserved now that Delta had joined them, but no less intoxicating.
“Yes, of course. I should probably extract Eddie from her adoring fans and get us home, too.” Tobin smiled. She couldn’t seem to wipe it off her face. “You should call me sometime.”
Grier laughed, “That’s rich!”
Tobin braced for it—the remark she’d willingly invited.
“You mean like I invited you to do last week?” “Exactly.”
Tobin leaned forward—intentionally, letting her blouse fall open just enough for Grier to notice—then reached out, brushing her fingertips over Grier’s hand before bringing the back of it to her lips. She kissed it softly, eyes never leaving Grier’s.
She winked. She smiled. Then righted herself and backed away.
Three steps later, she turned and walked forward, searching for Eddie. Her heart raced, her mind reeled, and still—she couldn’t wipe the grin from her lips.
Tobin found Eddie nursing a club soda at a bar table by herself.
Eddie grinned as she approached.
“Dibs on officiating the wedding,” Eddie drawled.
“Right. She didn’t even know my name until ten minutes ago, and you’re already hearing wedding bells. Don’t start dusting off your arch just yet.” Tobin rolled her eyes.
Flirting with Grier had flowed so easily, so natural, that she’d warmed to the idea of exploring something more with her. Hell, she wanted to explore her options—to explore Grier—with reckless abandon.
But Eddie’s teasing ignited an ejection response, like a spark to kindling, and Tobin couldn’t control it.
Her thoughts began to spiral. She couldn’t pursue Grier.
She’d fall—she knew that much was likely.
And she’d inevitably fuck it up, like she always did.
Her body already bore the scars that evidenced her relationship history.
She didn’t want to risk adding more—or leaving scars of her own on someone else.
She couldn’t do this.
Tobin sat on the couch in the hangar, staring at the unanswered GIF message on her phone.
Grier must have sent it before going to bed last night.
Of course she had. Tobin doubted the doctor would leave the ball in her court—not after she’d essentially ghosted her following their first encounter. And now, Tobin was contemplating
doing the same damn thing. Her head was reeling from her own emotional whiplash.
GRIER—12:13 a.m.
[GIF Taylor Swift “Enchanted”]
Tobin watched the loop on repeat—Taylor spinning onstage in a purple dress, the captioned lyrics glowing across the bottom: I was enchanted to meet you.
She’d woken in her bunk at the hangar, finding it pointless to drive home only to have to be back by 0600 for her shift. But sleep had proven elusive. Her mind raced with memories of Grier, and her body thrummed with the echo of what their flirtations had promised.
Their chemistry was undeniable. Every time Tobin thought of Grier, she felt wholly combustible.
When they were in the same room, she was seconds from igniting—an incendiary response to the desire eminent in Grier’s gaze, those amber-brown eyes that seemed to see straight into the depths of her soul.
When they touched, it was like a heat storm beneath her skin—electric and tempestuous.
She wanted to know what unhindered exploration of Grier’s body would do to her own.
With a sigh of frustration, Tobin clicked her screen off, leaving the message unanswered. She knew she needed to respond, to let Grier know she’d changed her mind. But the thought of cutting ties with her felt nearly debilitating. She didn’t want to sever the connection completely.
Maybe we could be friends?
Who am I kidding?
Grier clearly wanted more than friendship, and their unabashed flirting during every encounter indicated there was little likelihood of them remaining platonic.
It was only a matter of time before one of them crossed that threshold, pushing them from seduction to action and irrevocably altering the dynamics of their relationship.
The cleanest option would be to end it before it began.
She had to prioritize her goals, which meant focusing on her upcoming fertility treatments.
As much as she wanted someone to share her life with, her career wasn’t conducive to partnerships.
She’d learned that with Talia, and it wasn’t a lesson she wanted to repeat.
It was too much to ask someone to wait at home while she risked her life saving others.
Once she had a baby, she knew she’d have to adjust her role at Parrish Aerial—a conversation she and Eddie had already had on many occasions. But altering her career before motherhood wasn’t something she was willing to concede just to maintain a relationship. Selfish, yes. But it was her reality.
Erik, Mike, and Jada—one of the newer flight nurses—approached, already suited up in their flight gear. She looked up from the couch, questioning their bustling activity.
Erik blinked at her. “Didn’t you hear the phone? We have a transport—small local hospital, preemie in respiratory distress. Needs a Level IV NICU admit, stat.”
“Shit. Okay. I’ll be ready in two minutes.”
She grabbed her phone before she could lose her nerve and typed a quick message. She didn’t let herself feel the hurt or disappointment she knew she’d have to address later.
TOBIN—06:19 a.m.
I can’t. I’m sorry.