Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
When Grier woke the next morning, she knew two things: she had told Tobin she was in love with her—and she was wet.
She was in love with Tobin. And she wanted to use her body to convey that honesty in ways words sometimes failed her. To be able to give herself over—to confirm physically what she had whispered last night—thrilled Grier in ways she hadn’t expected.
She’d loved before, sure. But she’d never felt this.
It was still dark in Tobin’s room—too dark to determine the time. But Grier wanted her. And she wanted her now.
She scooted her butt backward, trying to nestle herself back into the spooning position they’d fallen asleep in. But she kept scooting— and scooting—and still didn’t hit the warm, familiar skin she was aching to touch.
Her hand reached behind her, patting empty sheets. She sat up. She was alone in Tobin’s bed.
Grier got up and slipped Tobin’s favorite zippy over her naked body. Getting fully dressed was pointless—her intentions were to get both of them naked as soon as possible.
They wouldn’t have much time before she had to leave for the hospital, but maybe she could convince Tobin to take a shower with her. Knock out two needs at once.
When she stepped onto the stair landing, she saw Tobin below— standing at the kitchen counter, chopping fruit and brewing coffee.
Grier paused, leaning against the railing to adore the woman in the few quiet moments before Tobin felt her gaze and recognized her.
Grier was in love with Tobin.
And now they both knew it.
She’d never loved someone like this. She felt it in every part of her—in the way her heart still raced whenever Tobin looked at her, or whispered her name. In the chilling absence she felt on her skin when Tobin’s body wasn’t near her. In her mind. And in her soul.
And she knew—she knew this was it. This was real.
Tobin didn’t even glance up. “Are you going to just stare at me, or are you coming down here to do something about it?”
Busted.
Tobin lifted her gaze, a confident—yet somehow shy—smile on her face. Like she was trying to mask the embarrassment Grier knew was coursing through her.
Because she knew this, too.
She knew the woman she loved, almost as well as she knew herself.
And she knew Tobin’s mind was probably racing with her own thoughts this morning—with thoughts of uncertainty, of insecurity, of feeling undeserving.
Grier desperately wanted to quiet them.
She started down the stairs, but the moment she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she was stopped in her tracks.
Tobin’s eyes were wide—pupils blown, the whites of her eyes visible.
She was staring.
And in that instant, Grier realized Tobin hadn’t been able to see what she was wearing from her position on the landing.
Tobin took in the entirety of Grier. Grier felt Tobin’s eyes follow her bare legs to the hem of her favorite zippy, where it barely concealed the curve of her ass—and the apex of her thighs—then up to the swell of her breasts, threatening to spill through the half- zipped neckline.
A flush bloomed across her chest with the heat of Tobin’s stare, and a warmth spread through her body, settling low and unmistakable between her legs.
She could feel her pulse there now. Aching.
Grier toyed with the zipper pull, locking eyes with Tobin as she did. She watched Tobin swallow hard. A coy smile tugged at her lips. She bit her lower lip, knowing the movement would draw Tobin’s gaze back to her face.
Slowly, deliberately, she began to ease the zipper down—teasing, tempting.
“Do you want me to take it off?”
Tobin swallowed again—this time Grier heard it.
She continued to slowly lower the zipper, enjoying the way Tobin’s eyes tracked her movement… until she saw the slightest shake of Tobin’s head.
She cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at her, “No?” She teased.
Tobin cleared her throat. “I like seeing you in my clothes—in that, particularly.”
Grier hummed her approval and resumed her entrance into the kitchen. She hadn’t intended for the zippy to be anything beyond coverage in case Harrow was home—but she could use this to her advantage.
She could lean into it.
She leaned over the counter and reached for a piece of cubed peach Tobin had diced. She knew it had the desired effect when she heard Tobin hiss in front of her.
Cool air lapped at her exposed nipples from the movement— Tobin had seen exactly what Grier had intended her to see.
She pushed herself off the counter and rounded it, coming up behind Tobin, who had resumed dicing the peaches with noticeably ragged breaths.
Grier smiled. Tobin was fighting for composure—and losing. “Tobin…”
She slid her arms around Tobin’s hips, dragging her palms along the curves of her ass before sliding them forward, then down along the fronts of her thighs—pressing her body flush against Tobin’s back.
Her voice dropped, sultry and warm at Tobin’s ear: “Do you want to feed me—or eat me?”
Tobin spun, pressing her ass against the counter. Her face was stoic, but Grier could see the tension in her jaw—the fight to suppress the smile threatening to break her composure.
Tobin lifted a piece of peach to her mouth, but instead of eating it, Grier watched as she traced the curve of her lips with the fruit. Her tongue darted out to catch a rogue droplet of juice.
Grier swallowed hard.
Tobin noticed. A rueful smile spread across her glistening lips. “Do I have to choose?” Tobin asked lasciviously.
She placed the peach between her teeth and leaning in, pressing it gently to Grier’s mouth. Grier felt the cool, soft wetness of the fruit brush against her lips, Tobin’s sweetened breath warm behind it.
Tobin’s lips pressed lightly into the fruit, squeezing juice into Grier’s mouth. A heavy droplet escaped, trickling down her chin and throat, settling in the dip of her exposed clavicle.
Grier sucked the piece of peach into her mouth and moaned when Tobin’s tongue followed, gently pressing against her own before retreating—only to bite at her lower lip. Grier closed her eyes, allowing the sensations to take over. She swallowed the peach and gasped, “We’re going to need to shower.”
Tobin’s mouth skimmed along the edge of her chin, her hot tongue lapping at the trail of nectar left behind.
When she felt Tobin pause at the edge of her collarbone and lave at the skin, Grier hummed in pleasure, threading her fingers into Tobin’s hair.
Grier held her there, anchoring her while Tobin’s tongue continued to stroke at her exposed skin.
“You wanna get wet?” Grier murmured, her voice thick with desire.
She felt Tobin smile against her throat, a huff of hot air ghosting over her damp skin.
“Bold of you to think I’m not already,” Tobin murmured—and then she was kissing her. Their lips met, sweet and warm, tongues searching for each other.
Grier gasped into the kiss when Tobin tugged a hand from her hair down, guiding it beneath the waistband of her pajama shorts. Her fingers slid between Tobin’s labia, and Grier moaned.
Tobin was fucking soaked—slick and throbbing—and the pulsing rhythm of her arousal matched the one she felt between her own legs.
“Tobin,” she whined. Her palm was soaked with Tobin’s arousal, and she continued to press against Tobin’s clit, dragging two fingers along either side of it.
She pressed her hips forward, grinding into Tobin’s thigh.
Tobin used the position to spread her legs apart.
Tobin’s cool hands slid under the hem of the zippy, one hand cupping her bare ass before settling on her hip. The thumb of the other hand pressed into the sensitive crease inside the angle of her pelvis.
Grier took advantage of the new position, rocking herself along Tobin’s thigh. She was naked beneath her pajama shorts, her slickness lubricating Tobin’s skin and creating the perfect amount of friction.
Tobin widened her stance just enough, and Grier slid her fingers through the soft folds of Tobin’s heat before slowly easing a finger inside her. The moan that slipped from her throat was a surprise, but it shouldn’t have been—this was exactly what she’d wanted.
With her other hand still tangled in Tobin’s hair, she pulled her forward until their chests collided—heaving and expanding with their efforts.
Their mouths met, claiming each other. Grier felt Tobin clench around the finger, her muscles fluttering with need.
And then Tobin’s grip tightened at her hip, fingers digging into the sensitive flesh as she rocked her forward, adding rhythm, adding pressure, guiding her deeper into the ache that built between them.
Grier felt herself building, but knew Tobin’s climax was looming. Slowing the rhythm of her own hips, she focused her attention on Tobin. Tobin’s neck arched back, a low whine escaping her lips as Grier’s finger curled inside her.
Leaning in, Grier pressed a soft kiss to the hollow of Tobin’s throat, losing herself in the smell of her skin. The small, desperate whimpers she drew from Tobin were a sign Grier recognized—she was right on the edge of her pleasure.
With her free hand, Grier cupped Tobin’s neck and guided her face forward until their eyes met.
“I love you, Tobin,” she whispered, her gaze unwavering, imploring Tobin to feel every atom of truth she imbued in her words.
Tobin’s eyes fluttered shut as her orgasm washed through her.
They stilled together, breathing each other in. Slowly, Tobin’s aftershocks softened into stillness. She opened her eyes, gently slid Grier’s hand from inside her, and tugged her toward the stairs. The beginnings of their breakfast remained unfinished on the counter.
But in that brief, vulnerable moment—after Tobin caught her breath but before she was centered enough to conceal her emotions— Grier saw the slightest edge of something in her eyes.
Something dark and thick and terrifying. She saw a wall.