Page 38 of A Temporary Forever

“No.” Caleb’s response is so urgent, the photographer jerks her head in surprise.

He snakes his arm around my waist and yanks me to him. With his finger, he lifts my chin. I meet his gaze.

“Let’s do this, black swan.”

“Only two years and three hundred sixty-three days, after all.”

He snorts. “That was a dick move.” He holds me tighter, grazing my cheek with his thumb.

I chuckle. “A rare moment of self-reflection. Why, Mr. van den Linden, have you forgotten to take your asshole medicine?”

“But you, Mrs. van den Linden, never skip your sassing serum.”

We grin at each other in a rare moment of… I don’t know what. Camaraderie? A temporary ceasefire?

My skin tingles under his touch as my heart looks for an emergency exit. Caleb’s gaze is on my face, but somehow, I feel it all over my body.

His Adam’s apple bobs, making me realize my mouth is too dry. I lick my lips, and his gaze drops tothem. He leans in, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

The brush of his fingers as they linger on my skin sends shivers down my spine. What is happening right now? Are we faking for the pictures? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.

And just like in Caleb’s living room the other night, my body is primed for this man after his lightest touch.

“You look amazing in that dress.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

It doesn’t seem like a calculated move, but it still feels like the best erotic performance.

The dress fits me like a glove, and yet I find myself jailed in it. It constricts more than my corset.

“You didn’t need to buy—”

Caleb puts his index finger on my mouth. “Hush, woman. Take a compliment like a good girl.”

My breath hitches. Jesus. “Thank you.” I don’t know how the words pass through my throat.

He smiles at me with that boyish grin that makes me want to take his hand and skip across town. Because while I haven’t had the privilege, I know Caleb knows how to have a good time.

“Who knew marrying you would make you blushing and obedient?” He winks.

I like my women a bit more blushing and less opinionated.

“It didn’t make me yours.”

Something dark passes across his face as his jaw ticks, but then he shocks me completely when his lips fuse with mine.

I’m caught so off-guard, I flail my arms in the air. The kiss is the right amount of soft and demanding. He’s claiming me with the kiss.It didn’t make me yours.

Despite the fact this is a ruse of a marriage.

Ignoring the reality of our less-than-amicable relationship.

Dismissing my protest.

Wait. I’m not protesting. I’m clutching his lapels, holding for dear life as he explores my mouth like it belongs to him.

Nobody’s ever kissed me like this. Kissing me like it’s a question of life and death. Like it’s an Olympic discipline he’s determined to master. Like he’s been training all his life to deliver this kiss.

And I open up and welcome it, like I’ve been groomed to be kissed by Caleb van den Linden.

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