I don’t recognize this version of myself.
I hate that I’m doubting Ben at all. I hate that I’ve let my chat with Eva weasel into my head and grow roots.
When Ben walks out of Caleb’s room and finds me on the couch, he stops and frowns when he sees my expression.
I’m sitting, gaze still on the ceiling, slumped back in shame.
“Birdie? What’s wrong?”
I cover my eyes with my hand so I don’t have to look at him as I come clean.
“I snooped on your phone by accident and saw someone named Lydia trying to contact you and I know it’s horrible—what I did—but you’d tell me if you were seeing other women too, right? I know we didn’t set parameters on our relationship, but I’m absolutely not willing to share you with other women. So whoever Lydia is…I don’t know, you need to send her packing.”
For a good long while, he doesn’t say jack diddly. I’m forced to peer at him from between my split fingers and am shocked to see he’s on the brink of laughter. He glances back and forth between me and his phone on the coffee table, clearly trying to wrap his head around all I’ve just said.
“Lydia?”
I nod.
His grin spreads wider. “That’s my manager’s assistant. She was probably calling to hound me about a contract I was meant to sign earlier this afternoon when we were watching Cars.”
My relief is short-lived. Shame overrides every single emotion.
“You really worked yourself up there,” he notes, bending down to pry my hand away from my face.
I squeeze my eyes closed.
“Birdie, look at me, will you?”
“I’d rather not. I’m waiting to die of embarrassment. It should happen any moment now.”
“What made you think I was seeing other women?”
I finally peel my eyes open to give him the truth. I suppose he’s owed that much after fielding my wild accusations. “Well…not to throw her under the bus, because I really don’t think she meant anything by it, but Eva and I were talking at your game in Oklahoma and she mentioned something about Brent…”
He sighs, seeming to follow where I’m going. “Brent is notoriously terrible at keeping his dick in his pants. The guy’s great on the court but an idiot when it comes to relationships.”
“Well she made it sound like it’s not just Brent, like all professional athletes have a hard time remaining faithful with all the options they have before them. It’s a veritable buffet of buxom blondes.”
“Well I only have eyes for one buxom blonde,” he teases, making me blush good and red.
He sits down on the couch beside me and tugs me close, wrapping his arms around my middle and squeezing me like a burrito when I don’t give in and cuddle him back.
“I’ve never cheated on any girlfriend except for in first grade when I kissed Kimberly Mathers on the playground after I agreed to go steady with Lisa Smith.”
“See? You’re bad to the bone, Ben. A heartbreaker through and through.”
He laughs and nuzzles his nose against my neck, trying to get me to wrap my arms around him. Eventually, he grows impatient and tugs me up onto his lap. I let him position me against his chest as we recline on his couch. He glides a hand up and down my back, gently reassuring me with his touch.
We stay like that for a bit as my cheek presses against his chest. I can hear the steady beat of his heart, and it soothes me. My finger draws circles on his shirt, just below his collarbone. We’re quiet for so long I almost jump when he speaks again.
“You know this isn’t some casual fling I’d toss away for a chance at a one-night stand.” His expression grows deeply serious as he cups my cheek and tilts it so his brown eyes can burrow into my soul as he smiles timidly and admits softly, “I love you, Birdie.”
His admission strikes through me. My lips part in shock.
Love?
Nan is the last person who told me she loved me, well before her disease took hold, before I left for California. I never took the word for granted. Growing up, there wasn’t enough love surrounding me, so when Nan passed it hurt all the more.
Does Ben realize that?
Does he realize I haven’t said “I love you” to someone in so long I can’t find my voice? It’s so deeply buried under emotion that I can’t draw upon it. Instead, I arch up and kiss him on the lips, trailing my mouth down his chin and jaw then lower along his neck. I grow bolder and sit up straighter on him, settling myself in the center of his lap as my kisses grow wild and abandoned. His love is freeing, and I want to show him that.
He realizes before I do that we can’t continue kissing out in the living room where anyone could walk by. He stands and lifts me up, carrying me to his bedroom as my legs wrap around his waist. His hands grip and knead my backside and I kiss him in a frenzy, not caring if we bump into corners or walls. What’s a little bruise in the name of love?
He laughs at my relentless need, tumbling quickly toward the bed and sitting down on the edge so I stay on his lap. Hungrily, he grabs my shirt and tugs it up and over my head. It hits the floor and he leans in, kissing between my breasts, just over my heart. He stills for a moment, breathing me in, and I rest my hands on his shoulders as my heart drums against his mouth. It’s excruciating to slow down, but I let him stay there as his finger trails around my bra cup, eliciting goose bumps from my head to my toes.
Gently, he tugs the material down, baring me for his lips.
I squeeze my eyes closed as he rolls his tongue over my breast, taking the weight of his hand before moving to the other side and tugging my other bra cup down as well. He looks hypnotized, and it emboldens me enough to reach back and unclasp my bra. The silky straps fall down my arms and Ben finishes the rest of the job for me, tugging it off and dropping it to the floor behind my back. In a flash, his mouth returns, hungry as he licks and kisses and works me up. My hips keep moving and it feels so torturous. Every time he elicits a moan from me, I want to do the same for him. I want to share this madness.
My hand slides down between our bodies, first underneath his shirt, and then lower, beneath the hem of his pants. His zipper comes undone just enough to let me slide my hand into his boxer briefs. He’s hard as steel and so smooth I can’t resist the first few strokes. I lose track of my objective. I just want to feel him, remind myself of how luxurious it is to have him in my hand, at my mercy.
Love, I remind myself. This is in the name of love.
My name is a whisper on his lips as I guide my hand up and down, pumping. His mouth moves from one breast to the other, and then my hand squeezes tighter and he’s suddenly at his limit.
He lifts me up, twists around, and drops me on the bed with a soft plop.
His eyes glide over my body like a feather, making me shiver. For agonizing seconds, he only looks, stealing pieces of me with his gaze, plucking my heart right out of my body.
When his eyes land on my navel, he reaches out to touch me like he can’t help himself. He hovers over me with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he bends slowly, his mouth kissing down my belly until he reaches the waistband of my yoga pants. He makes quick work of them, along with my panties, dropping them both on top of my bra.
“More?” he asks, his lips skimming my hip bone.
I arch off the bed, hoping he’ll do that again.