Page 39 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls (Kissing At Work #2)
Moonlight and outside lanterns illuminated the waves of the lake.
Celene absorbed how it heightened their moment, emitting enough for her to digest all the timeless features she had no trouble praising to Skye’s friends.
Years spent removed from tenderness strengthened Celene, and Skye dismantled her defenses in an evening.
Withering at these collapsed walls, Skye cushioned Celene’s fall with a kiss. Their mouths wound as one, veiled in shadowed privacy, the wind shifting the grass and the ridges of water rippling onto the coast. Celene’s heart stirred when their necklaces joined with a distinct snap.
Earlier, she’d finished a cup of tea when the Florentine car pulled up, and the moment she saw Skye, the breeze dragging into her hair, Celene’s lips twitched to assert themselves along her jaw and down to her clavicle. Now, she could fulfill those urges.
“Go slow,” Skye rasped as Celene glided her tongue down her neck. Her fingers closed onto Celene’s shoulders with light pressure.
And Celene did a four-count to hold her breath and release onto Skye’s skin.
Nodding, she reclaimed Skye’s lips with a greed she’d forgotten she missed.
The rhapsody, the need to be entwined with someone special.
Opportunities to deepen their attachment that had been in motion since Byron bought a reasonably priced house in Yielding, PA.
This greed wouldn’t resolve itself. Only Skye—whose restrained moans were delectably maddening—could temper this ache.
They weren’t even officially titled yet. That deserved to be sorted.
Skye rose and, in unspoken synchronicity, they tidied up the blanket, gifts, and leftover bits from their food. All throughout, their fingers brushed more than necessary. They pressed a kiss here and there, mutual giddiness pervading every brush.
Celene contemplated this for their ride home, where they loosely fit their fingers whenever Skye didn’t have any turns to make. All in silence. It lacked artificial laughter and contrived, insincere conversation. Divine.
“They bought rocking chairs,” Celene groaned as Skye parked on Goldfinch, outside the summer house. In two wooden outdoor chairs, Elise and Ajay waved in their arrival like elderly parents. They couldn’t make out with them on the deck, swaying and spectating.
Skye waved in return with a radiant smile. Incorrigibly neighborly and friendly, she asked, “Should I run over and say hello?”
Celene dismissed that with an eyeroll, unbuckling herself. “No. I want you all to myself.”
“You have me.” Skye released her seatbelt, too. She mimicked a bird call through her clenched teeth to cover obvious nerves. It sounded authentic. And, perking at Celene’s raised eyebrow, she clarified, “Cardinal.”
Celene leaned the side of her head to the seat, amused. “Another.”
Without a hitch, Skye cupped her hands over her mouth and wobbled them, and out came a clear, very recognizable rolling call. Celene grinned, guessing, “Owl.”
“Common misconception. Mourning dove.”
Were those scones laced with something? Because Celene’s smile crested wider, drunkenly. “Do they answer when you do these calls?”
Skye mirrored her, tousled hair pressed to her perfect cheekbones, against her headrest. “Yeah, most of the time.”
“Princess of the wood.”
Before Skye could laugh that off, Celene switched off the overhead light, darkness competing with light coming off the house.
She beckoned her with a single finger and, rather than the kiss Skye probably expected, Celene nestled her nose against her neck, breathing in earthy hair product and the ever-present scent of honey.
Her lips followed suit, branding warm skin in lazy kisses.
She couldn’t do all that she wanted, but she couldn’t resist such a unique woman.
“Sometimes,” Skye started, lifting Celene’s chin. “Living here means I’m not as courageous. Everyone knows me and my family, so...” Her lips spun to the side. “I’m conscious of who’s around, who may be uncomfortable if I were to kiss a girlfriend. You don’t care about any of that, huh?”
Celene licked the corners of her lips. “No, I don’t give a fuck.”
“I’ve always wanted that.”
“With me?”
“If you’ll have me.”
Something abundantly intrusive took residence in Celene’s chest, threatening tears again. “I made a mistake, agreeing to the fake dating.” She stroked Skye’s cheek, picturing the finer details not touched by light. “Being with you is so natural. It shouldn’t have been fake.”
“It felt real to me. Always did.”
Celene really let herself not be cherished for this long. For years. “Then, let’s not waste any more time. You’re my girlfriend, for real.”
Skye heaved out a lengthy sigh. “Finally.”
“How do birds kiss? Do they bump their little beaks?”
“Oh god,” she responded, snorting. “Celene. You’re one-of-a-kind.”
“ I’m one-of-a-kind? You communicate with birds, and fireflies bounce around you like a playground.” Celene took this opportunity to press both hands to the console, projecting herself close enough that they could laugh against each other, their smiles grazing. “Touch my beak.”
Skye did just that. She tickled the tips of their noses, sending chill bumps down Celene’s arms. This woman was stellar—no exaggeration.
Celene initiated another nose nudge. “See me tomorrow?”
“Every day until you leave.”
“Deal.”
Then they kissed like humans, shrouded in shadows, in the night, only theirs. No sister, no brother-in-law, no chores for the house. Just her new girlfriend and their blossoming bond.