Page 49 of A Temporary Forever

“What are you doing, Caleb?” Celeste squeals, but doesn’t move. She freezes.

“Relax, black swan, you won’t get pregnant from sitting in my lap.”

“But you might get a black eye from it,” she snarls, and attempts to wriggle away. She fails, but I grunt from the friction.

Why did I think it was okay to sit her in my lap? As if that one dance move I interrupted qualified for a lap dance, and I paid for the right to have her rubbing against me.

Fuck. It’s official, I can’t keep my dick in my pants around this woman. Even if said woman is perfectly correct in drawing the line, and assuming bumping uglies would only complicate our arrangement.

Because I have never had a woman sleep over—or in my bed—so living with one after having sex could only be a recipe for disaster. I’d rather become celibate. I wince internally at the thought.

“This is ridiculous, Caleb. Let go of me.” Since she failed to push off, this time she slides backward.

Only the sofa isn’t that long, so now her heels are inmy crotch. And at her softenedd,my cock twitches again. Nobody saysridiculouswith such sexy diction.

I grab her ankle, and by this point, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m just accepting that sometime between this morning when I had a coherent, adult conversation with my brother and now, I lost my marbles.

“Isn’t it hard to dance in these?” I take one stiletto off and then the other, dropping them to the floor.

“Not all of us are meant to wear ballet slippers.”

Her quip ends in a moan as I push my fingers into the balls of her feet.

I expect her to kick me and run, but she relaxes and drops her head back, her lips apart. And now, just like in her apartment, I need to know if that’s her just-fucked face.

“Did you want to be a ballerina?” I continue rubbing her feet, trying to avoid the blisters. Fuck, her feet are this battered, and she still walks around in heels all the time.

“Doesn’t every girl want that?” She lowers her head to the armrest behind her, looking at me through hooded eyes.

“I think Saar wanted to be a princess.”

She chuckles, but it turns into another moan as I hit a tense spot on her foot. “What did you want to be growing up?”

“A hotel owner.”

“Really?” Genuine surprise is etched on her face. “And you became one. Not many kids are that lucky.”

“I think they’re luckier. I wanted to be a hotel owner because my father was one, and I really wanted him to like me.”

“I only met your father once, and I can say with certainty he doesn’t like anyone.”

I snort. “And still, I used to take it personally.”

“The fact he doesn’t like anyone is his loss, but that doesn’t make your loss easier. We want our parents to love us.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m better off without them in the picture.”

“And not being a hotel owner.”

“I’m still a hotel owner. I only left the executive position. So why aren’t you a ballerina?”

She snorts. “Have you seen me? I’ve always been too big to dance on my tiptoes. I can do it, but there wouldn’t be a career for me in it. My mom was a very talented ballerina.”

“So you wanted to appease your parents with your chosen career as well?”

“God, no. My mom would have supported me in anything, but when I’d cried about how I couldn’t be like her, she did everything in her power to encourage my dancing. She’d taken me to differentperformances and clubs since I was six, so I learned that ballet isn’t the only form of dancing.”

“She must be an amazing woman.”

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