Page 27 of A Temporary Forever

Why is it so hot in here? And why am I parched even though I drank the entire water supply in his car?

“I was trying to do you a favor, and you did everything to dissuade me. How do you know there stillisan offeron the table?”

The bastard won’t make this easy.

He sits there casually in those stupid sweatpants, his T-shirt straining across his chest. They should ban sweats for men. Especially when a man is built like God.

One arm casually thrown across the backrest, he rests the other in his lap. And suddenly I have an image of what he could do with those hands, and the whole transaction doesn’t feel like such a sacrifice.

After the display of support from my colleagues earlier, I’m willing to go through with this. Push my pride and my feelings aside and take one for the team.

And considering the fine specimen in front of me, with his latent smirk and sparkling dark blue eyes, it might even be an enjoyable endeavor.

I step forward, placing one foot in front of the other, making sure my hips sway naturally. I’m a dancer, after all.

Caleb sits straighter, his gaze roaming down my body. I’ve never fucked with any purpose other than the joy of it, and my stupid head is offering all sorts of opinions, most of them judgmental, but I push them all away and saunter toward him.

I step between his legs. Caleb tilts his head up slowly. Very, very slowly, not letting the movement disturb him from his obvious appreciation of my body. Damn, the man is good.

Finally, his gaze lifts to meet mine. Full of hunger and heat. I smile at him and lean my knee on the edge of the sofa, grazing his crotch. Accidentally on purpose.

“What exactly are you offering here, Celeste?” he rasps, not moving. Other than his cock tenting the soft cotton of his sweats.

I plant both my hands behind him on the backrest, taking advantage of the tight corset I’m wearing, my tits practically in his face. I toss my hair. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He takes a good, long look at my cleavage, his face impassive. I wish it was confidence that was running through my veins. Instead, my heart hammers with anticipation—not the good kind—and I wonder if he can see my thumping pulse.

But when his eyes meet mine again, the heat is a notch higher than before. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be a good businessman if I acted on impressions.”

Merde. He’s going to make me work for it. “I don’t think your dick shares that concern.”

He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “If you have an offer, use your words, Celeste.”

I falter.Fuck this. I push off with my hands to straighten up. Before I can step back and look for my dignity, his hand moves to the back of my knee.

I gasp, and we both look down where his touch burns my skin. The oxygen supply in the room drops, and I can only get enough to reach the top of my lungs.

“So?” he taunts.

He can’t know how sensitive I am behind my knee. Most of my former boyfriends took weeks before they found that particular spot, and yet, with an impulsive move, he landed right there. Goddammit.

“You marry me to help me get my visa, and I’ll sleep with you.”

He cocks his head and studies me, his finger tracing up and down, scorching my skin.

I invest all my acting skills into pretending I’m unaffected, but my underwear is soaked, and I’m sure he can smell it.

He shifts, leaning slightly forward, and inhales. Yep, he can definitely smell my arousal. He places his other hand on my other leg, tracing slowly up my outer thighs.

I stifle a moan. His touch is lethal, killing any inhibition or any restraint I think I still have.

He pushes up to stand, his height overwhelming as he looks down at me. I always knew Caleb van den Linden was handsome, but this close, I can fully appreciate his chiseled jaw, his full lips shadowed by the stubble on his face.

And his deep blue eyes. That gaze can melt panties, and it’s a good thing I’m so wet because I’d burst into flames.

The pads of his fingers, soft on my skin,continue their perusal up my torso, brushing the sides of my corseted breasts. Slowly, he trails up my clavicle to my neck. My breath hitches.

He squeezes my jaw between his thumb and index finger and tilts my head back. Is he going to kiss me?

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