Page 130 of A Temporary Forever

Celeste

Icling to him, practically asleep after the longest ride from work ever. The physical and emotional exhaustion coils around my bones. It also fills the air between us, like we both need to sleep off the past few months and wake up to a new beginning.

Or at least this new understanding between us. As I inhale the scent of him, I feel lighter and heavier at the same time.

Cal kisses the crown of my head. It seems like an automatic gesture, but it sets my heart fluttering every single time.

“Je suis tout à toi.”

He groans and dips his head deeper, trailing my cheek and the side of my neck with his nose languidly.

I know I haven’t told him I’m his in English yet,and that’s what he wants to hear so much. I’ll tell him in the bedroom.

Oh God, I hope we’re heading to his bedroom. Or mine. It doesn’t matter, as long as he takes me to a bed. That’s what he meant when he said he’s demolishing his walls.

“Are you okay?”

Can he read my thoughts now? “Yes, just really tired.”

We get off the elevator and step into the dark apartment, the only source of light coming from the dim spotlights around the floor. I shake off my shoes and walk to the kitchen, Caleb on my heels.

We drink water in a companionable silence in the kitchen before we make our way upstairs. I’m barely standing on my feet, exhaustion seeping into every part of my being.

He walks behind me but before I veer toward my room, he grabs my wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

My mind is buzzing with a latent headache, and it takes me an unreasonable amount of time to turn to face him. Or at least it feels like that, while the world swirls with me in my subtle motion.

What if everything changes once we share a bed? What if we don’t enjoy the normal, so used to the wild and reckless way we usually have sex? Or worse, whatif he realizes he doesn’t like me in his private, intimate space and moves on?

He frowns and steps closer, crowding me against the wall. His breath fans my face. “What is it, black swan? Having second thoughts already? This isn’t going to work if we both lean into fear.”

Fuck, the man does read me already. But he’s right. A part of me has this perverse need to discuss all the possible scenarios up front, so I can be ready for what might happen.

There is a much bigger part of me that recognizes that’s not how life is lived. That I can’t control the next minute.

But I can choose to enjoy it.

I can choose to believe in us.

So I choose.

He steps back, holding his hand out for me, and I take it. He kisses my knuckles and pulls me toward his bedroom.

He opens the door to what has been a secret chamber until now, and we step onto plush carpet.

“Cal…” Fuck, this can’t be our first proper night. “I don’t think—”

“Hush.” He puts his index finger on my lips. “Let’s just sleep.”

He walks toward a dresser, taking off his cufflinks. He drops them into a mess of otherpersonal items.

The room is sleek and modern, an elegant space like his entire house. Crisp white walls contrast with the dark accents and the chocolate-colored deep-pile carpet.

Draped in shades of brown, his bed is enormous, its masculinity softened with a casually strewn white throw.

A glass-walled bathroom in the corner draws my eyes. Why doesn’t it surprise me that a man with a flair for exhibitionism has a glass shower as a key feature of his personal space?

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