Birding with Benefits

Chapter 36

John should go. Get to his house, turn on the work lights in his shop and build something. He should help Celeste by giving her what she needed—time and space to be alone.

But instead he took a long, selfish moment to look at her, bare before him. Brightly painted toes, the smooth curve of her calf, the small white scar on the underside of her knee, the strong thickening of her thigh. Then the sweet pale crease where her thigh met her hip, the indent where his thumbs fit just right. Up across the plane of her stomach, the stretch marks that painted her abdomen like tiger stripes, then the hard ridges of her ribs. He loved to trace those lines with his teeth and tongue, teasing her relentlessly until reaching the small lift of her breasts, the rosy peaks of her nipples, and the strong ridge of her collarbone.

She didn’t come closer, leaving him the choice. But it was no choice at all.

It took him two steps to put them face-to-face, and one more to press his body against hers. Heat radiated off her skin, warming him even through his clothes.

They shared one long breath before coming together, just long enough for him to wonder what this might mean for them and push aside the thought, bringing his mouth to hers until all his senses were simply Celeste.

That guidebook he’d once created in his mind had grown into a hefty thing. It didn’t just catalog her swinging earrings, or that freckle behind her ear he’d first noticed at the bowling alley. Now it held the details of how she woke in the morning (cheerfully, sitting up to look out the window before saying a word), the way she drank a beer (sprinkling a slice of lime with salt before squeezing it in), and the exact force with which she liked him to tug her hair (harder than he would have tried if she hadn’t kept urging him on). The margins had scribbled annotations like his bird book, special notes and observations. But it still held blank pages waiting for more discovery.

The kiss started slow and searching, her fingers combing through his beard. He stroked up her back, then down, flattening his hand to scrape his rough palms against the soft curve of her ass.

“I liked this shirt until right now,” she whined against his mouth, fumbling with his buttons. John took over, and soon they had him stripped, his clothes landing in a pile next to Celeste’s robe.

Her fingers wrapped around his erection, pulling with just the right, tight pressure he loved. She licked and groaned into his mouth as they stumbled the few feet to the bed. The mattress hit the backs of John’s knees and Celeste pushed, sending him onto his back and crawling over him. Her legs spread over him, grazing his cock where she was hot and wet.

It was tempting, so tempting, to lie back as she lowered herself onto him. But he’d learned that sometimes Celeste needed help to slow down. So he rolled her, pinning her to the mattress and covering one nipple, then the other, with his mouth. He licked and nipped until she was writhing beneath him, gasping pleas. Only when she seemed boneless did he hook his hands beneath her knees and tug her to the edge of the bed. His own knees hit the floor as he pushed apart her thighs.

She spread her legs and accepted his worship. He groaned into her at the first taste, licking with the stroke and pressure he knew she craved. Because he’d learned that when Celeste was the loudest, and asking for the most, was when she was the most vulnerable. He knew just what she needed tonight.

She needed to be pulled out of her thoughts.

She tugged hard on his hair as he doubled his efforts, circling his tongue on her as he slipped one, then two fingers inside. Celeste arched her back and groaned his name, moving her hips against his hand and mouth. When her thighs trembled and her breath caught, he knew she was close.

So he went still, curling with his fingers but easing the pressure of his mouth.

“John…” It was a long whine, beautiful in its neediness.

“Just wait,” he said against her inner thigh. “It’s okay.”

Then he returned. Slower now, taking his time to build her back up. Her fingers left his hair and he knew from her long, throaty moan that she was touching her nipples.

Her heels dug into his back and he pressed harder with his tongue, taking her back up. His name on her lips evaporated after the first hard J, until her only sound was the desperate breathing that came just before.

John forced himself to pull away, standing up to gaze at her.

Celeste was flushed, lips parted and eyes wide open, with her hands cupping each breast. “Oh my god, John, please.”

He latched his hands onto her hips, notched his cock at her entrance, and thrust inside her. Their groans held the same note of satisfaction. He moved fast and hard, all the while watching her as she bit her lip and nodded, whispering “yes” again and again. Then her yes morphed to please, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He withdrew and climbed to the bed, pulling her up the mattress, then urged her on top, as they’d started. She stroked his slick cock and licked her lips, then slid onto him with a hearty moan. When he put his hand between them, holding his thumb so she hit it with every movement of her hips, she sighed and laughed and groaned all at once.

“Do not. Move. This hand.”

She braced her hands on his chest and rode him, his thumb a tool for her pleasure that she knew exactly how to use. His free hand toured the familiar terrain of her body, plucking at her nipples and stroking her neck where her pulse raced. When her movements got sloppy as she ground down on his thumb, John met her with his own thrusts, studying her face as she brought herself back to the edge.

She folded over him, kissing him hard. They came together like that—her body tightening around him as he moaned her name and drove his hips into her hard, coming undone as their tongues and lips tangled. The long crest of her orgasm gripped them both, followed by the slow melt after.

Breathing hard, she pulled away and looked at him. Flushed and messy, brown hair falling in sheets across her face.

Christ, she was beautiful.

Celeste blinked and rolled off him, landing on her back and staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet but for their breathing and the whir of a car passing outside.

Usually Celeste ended sex with some sort of joke or dirty compliment that brought laughter into the postcoital haze. But she was silent now, hands resting on her abdomen as it rose and fell with her breath.

“I’m just gonna…” John started, climbing off the bed. The need that had driven them together was slackened now, and it invited questions he didn’t know how to ask. He retreated to the bathroom for a splash of water on his face.

Though he’d never been in her bathroom, the room was familiar because it was hers. Necklaces and earrings hung like decorations from nails and hooks on the wine-red wall. A snippet of a Mary Oliver poem was tacked above the light switch, and another by Nikki Giovanni above the toilet.

And then there was her mirror. A kaleidoscope of notes, as colorful as the butterflies that had surrounded them just a few hours before, paper edges curling like wings.

John’s eyes drifted up the mirror, taking in the wide rainbow of advice.

We’re all works in progress.

Walk boldly.

Seize the day.

It was a display of Celeste’s bravery and sense of adventure, the way she sought out joy and faced risks and challenges.

Better off alone.

Don’t lose yourself.

This was the Celeste who had sworn off dating and set an end date to their arrangement. Who had yelled at Morgan in the parking lot about how love would push everything else aside. The one who’d stopped them in the closet that day, making sure he knew she wasn’t looking for a relationship.

The discovery she was seeking was of herself, by herself.

John was dimly aware of the rise and fall of his chest, still damp with sweat from his lovemaking with Celeste.

Lovemaking.

God, he was a fucking fool. Celeste had laid out just what she wanted, and what she didn’t. From that very first morning, pastries in hand, she’d been clear about not wanting a relationship, and she’d never wavered. A relationship was something that would hold her back. Love was something dangerous.

And he’d started on the same page. But between helping Celeste see that first bird and buying her those french fries, something within him had shifted.

It wasn’t Celeste’s fault. But damn, it still hurt.

His heart raced, propelling his body out of the bathroom and back into Celeste’s room, where he bent for his clothes.

He made the mistake of glancing at Celeste. She was on her back, propped up on her elbows, her entire body on view for him, flushed and beautiful.

Her nose wrinkled as John quickly stepped into his boxers, then his pants. He could barely pull up the zipper for his shaking hands.

As he yanked his shirt over his shoulders, Celeste sat up and pulled a corner of the comforter over her body. “Are you—You can stay tonight.”

John shook his head. “I can’t.” He picked up her robe and laid it across the bed, avoiding her eyes. “I shouldn’t, it’s—” Exhaling a long, grueling breath, he looked at her. She was tugging at the tendrils of hair falling around her face.

He swallowed. “The contest is over, right? This was our last day. I don’t think we should push it past what we agreed.”

“Oh.” She reached for the robe, using it to cover her body. “Right.”

Silence fell between them again as he pulled on a sock.

“Maybe…” Celeste cleared her throat. “This seems to be working, right? Maybe we should keep doing this.”

His heart gave a hopeful lurch, ready for any justification to crawl back into bed with her and wipe that frown off her face for the rest of the night. And longer. “Doing what?”

“What we’ve been doing. The birders-with-benefits thing. It’s working, right? It’s fun, and easy, and—”

He almost said yes. But Breena’s words from earlier cycled through his head. She hadn’t known the whole context of John’s time with Celeste, but that didn’t matter. She’d seen something between them, something true, even when John was trying to pretend it wasn’t there. And so had Chris. And Jared.

And dammit, so had John.

He stopped, stood straight, and looked at Celeste. “No, I don’t want to do that anymore.”

She tugged the robe up to her chin, frowning. “But why?”

“Because I’m falling in love with you.”