Page 115 of A Temporary Forever

I close my eyes, trying to tune out where we are. “Stop,” I whimper-whisper.

His fingers sheathed deep inside me, he stops. A few beats, but he doesn’t resume.

I turn my head to him. “What are you doing?” I hiss.

“You asked me to stop.”

“Je vais te tuer.”

He hums again, the bastard. “Talking French, black swan. Mixed signals here…”

“Bâtard.”

He chuckles, but thank God he resumes his ministrations, edging me, and then slowing down. I’m a puddle of nerves and sensations.

At one point, I almost double over, masking it by casually bracing one of my elbows on the table.

This is so wrong.

And so right.

I don’t know who this man is anymore. My fake husband is my real lover. He asked me to let him figure it out. But the more time he takes, the deeper I’m falling.

Caleb moves his hand in a leisurely tempo, and I clench desperately, chasing my release.

“Let go, Celeste.” His words fan my nape, and I explode around his fingers, barely stifling a cry.

A thundering applause erupts around me, and I throw my head back, letting the remnants of pleasure seep through my body. Letting the audience reward—

What the actual fuck? I’m not on stage. The applause for the award of the night is only a bizarre coincidence.

But for a moment there, my mind lost its grasp on what’s reality and what’s make-believe. For a tantalizing moment, I didn’t know who I was.

I was stripped down to bare sensation. But besides the physical, a genuine feeling blossoms inside me.

How am I supposed to play a role when the role morphed into real life?

Too real to pretend otherwise.

Too visceral to act superficially.

Too significant to maintain the sham.

I blink a few times while the clapping turns into a standing ovation. Dazed, my gaze finds Caleb’s.

A satisfied smirk on his face, he ignores the mayhem around us and licks his fingers casually, his eyes locked on me.

Heat spreads up my cleavage into my cheeks. I attempt to stand up. Caleb jumps up to help me.

A ghost of a smile traces his beautiful face as he looks at me with adoration.

I’m hyper-aware of his hand touching my elbow. His eyes piercing through me. My arousal sticking to my thighs.

Something new passing between us.

It’s confusing and overwhelming. It terrifies and enchants me.

I panic and turn to the table, and gulp down another glass of wine. Yes, a normal person would just deal with their emotions.

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