Page 78 of A Temporary Forever

But like an addict, I can’t stop him.

Maybe it’s seeing him warming up around his daughter.

Or the new level of sexual experience he pulled me into on the landing of his loft.

Or something unknown—unreasonable—that my awareness doesn’t yet understand derails my survival instincts.

“But—”

He puts a finger over my mouth. “We can worry about tomorrow, or we can enjoy today. With the first, we’d only worry. With the latter, if tomorrow is shit, at least we had one day of fun.”

I snort. “Is that your motto?”

He winks, moves his hands across my hips, andshoves my underwear to the side, sliding his fingers between my folds.

“Looks like your pussy is on board with my life's philosophy. So wet for me, Celeste. Such a good girl.”

I must be an undiscovered glutton for praise, because I push away any thoughts and grind my hips against his hand.

“Greedy.” He chuckles.

He’s right. What’s the point in worrying about what might happen tomorrow, or a week from now?Your heart might disagree, a devil on my shoulder reminds me.This is just fun.

He plunges two fingers into me, and with his other hand he grabs my neck and pulls me to his lips.

The kiss is searing, fervent and so raw, it doesn’t match his casual ‘let’s ride the wave’ comment. I had meaningless sex before, and either Cal is a man who does everything with the utmost passion, or he’s hiding his true feelings.

The first is a probability, the latter is only my hope.No hope, sotte!

I’m a performer, and I can pretend this is just a show. And like after any show, I’ll step out of my role and decompress. That’s the only way to survive him.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs against my skin, licking, biting, kissing my jaw, my throat, my clavicle, all while lazily sliding in and out of me.

His words, his talented tongue and fingers do their tricks, and my arousal builds up, coiling around my spine, making me forget the conversation.

“Mon Dieu,” I gasp, riding his hand like this is my last ever orgasm. And it might be. Because who knows what our expiration date is, and Caleb van den Linden ruined all other men for me.

“Let go, swan,” he whispers, and crooks his fingers.Merde.

I fall over the edge so fast and hard I completely forget my surroundings.

Caleb withdraws his fingers and holds me tight, his nose buried in the crook of my neck. Another van den Linden contradiction. If this is just sex, the aftercare isn’t necessary.

And yet here we are, the man holding me like I’m precious cargo. I can’t stand it. We either play his game, or we lean into the one I’d like to explore. But we can’t linger in between. Can we?

It’s just fun. For as long as I can do this without getting properly hurt. I’m just a performer.

“I thought you wanted to fuck,” I tease.

“I just fucked you with my hand… and you got orgasm-induced amnesia, apparently.”

“Stop talking, pretty boy, and get that impressive cock of yours to work.” I cup his hardness, slipping into the role of a playful lover. As casual and temporaryas my husband wishes. It’s in my best interest, after all.

“Impressive?” He drawls, smirking.

“Oh, no,” I groan. “That was a slip.”

He laughs. “Sure it was.”

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