20. Caleb
Chapter 20
Caleb
Celeste
I’m spending the night at the Park Avenue apartment.
I throw my phone across the office. It bounces off a bookshelf and lands on the wooden floor. It doesn’t break, which is a good thing, but it doesn’t alleviate my agitation.
Celeste spent Saturday with me and Mia, but left for some friend’s celebration this morning. It felt like a made-up excuse to get away from us—me. And I can’t blame her.
Though I nearly panicked at the idea of being alone with Mia, it turned out to be a good day.
Still a lot of awkwardness and missteps, but yesterday helped us to forge a path in the right direction. The annoying part is, we wouldn’t have gotten there if it weren’t for Celeste.
Watching her interact with Mia, witnessing how she stepped up and helped me with my daughter, and how easily Mia connected with her, was an eye-opener.
I freaked out after we had sex. I’ve never wanted a commitment, and I still don’t. They always turn into transactions, and I’m not interested in those.
But as I was falling asleep on Friday night, the idea of more with Celeste lingered on my mind. I don’t know how to do more. I’ve never tried, and frankly, with Merged negotiations and Mia, I have enough on my plate.
This is not the time.
She seems determined to dissuade me, anyway. Like on Friday morning when she made the comment about her pussy being serviced. For half a day, I was pissed she’d been fucking someone behind my back all this time.
Only it wouldn’t have been behind my back. Half the day, I hated the asshole she was banging, and the other half, I was pissed at myself.
She doesn’t owe me anything. For all she knows, I’m hooking up with other women all the time. Only I’m not, and that cemented my foul mood for the second half of the day .
But then she surprised me with her wanton reading, and I couldn’t pretend the option wasn’t finally on the table.
I couldn’t have anticipated that she would become the first woman I’d want a second serving with. She bewitched me.
So in the morning, I created a boundary to help deal with my confusion. I couldn’t even look at her without wanting to pin her against the wall. Which would be the worst idea.
It was just sex.
As much as I keep repeating it, it doesn’t ring true. Especially in the light of the day we spent afterward. With my daughter. Like a family.
Fuck.
Only while I’m fighting my attraction, she goes to fuck someone else.
How dare she? When she suggested we share that condo—fuck, I don’t even remember when I was there the last time—I thought she was bluffing.
And then she tells me her pussy was well-serviced. Goddammit. When I made the roster, I was sure she would abandon the idea. But I guess whoever services her is worth the risk of getting caught.
I stand to pick up my phone and flip through my contacts. There must be someone I can hook up with. The apartment is mine tomorrow, after all .
Only I don’t feel a spark of desire to even call any of the contenders, let alone meet with them.
Annoyed, I dial Xander.
“Hey, man, ready to sign?” he answers cheerfully, and I want to hang up. The last thing I want is negotiating.
“Are you ready to give me twenty-five percent?” I quip.
“Fuck, Cal—”
“That’s not why I’m calling. What about hitting the town tonight?”
“Sorry, man, I still have a presentation to work on.”
“Christ. You used to be more fun.” Can I sound any more desperate? Or maybe I sound like I always used to, and I just feel desperate.
Is she going to stay there all night? Or is it just a hook-up and she’ll come home afterward?
“Well, I’m starting a company, and I wouldn’t be this swamped if you got on board. We would get work done and have more fun. Sunday isn’t a good time to go clubbing, anyway.”
“What’s Quinn’s deal? He won’t budge, and that doesn’t give me confidence that I can work with him.”
Yes, be a reasonable person and focus on business. Fuck, I hate how off-balance the woman makes me.
“Why don’t we have breakfast tomorrow and talk?”
I consider. I’m sick of talking about this. I want in, but we’re at an impasse. Frankly, I don’t mind if my share’s twenty percent, but I can’t give in because that would set the tone for our future collaboration. We’d be better off not working together at all under those circumstances.
“Okay, let’s talk tomorrow. Why don’t you come over to my place? I’ll text you the address.”
“Sounds good, but don’t overdo it tonight. I’ll wake you up at seven because I have a nine o’clock.”
“Okay, Dad.” I roll my eyes and disconnect the call. I text him the address and add his name to the approved guest list.
I dial Finn, but he doesn’t answer. It’s too late to call Saar, so I sit behind my desk again and review the last quarter’s financials for Quaintique-Linden. I might not work there anymore, but I’m still a shareholder.
Staring at the numbers—or trying to—for what feels like hours, I check my watch. It’s only been ten minutes. Molasses flows faster than this evening.
I sigh, refocusing on the numbers again, but they blur together in an indecipherable mess. I snap the laptop shut and stand, stretching my stiff muscles.
Making my way to the kitchen, I ignore the feeling of loneliness. This used to be my kingdom. I lived here alone and loved every minute. Now, the space seems foreign without the green-eyed wench.
Fuck .
I take fried rice from the fridge, and without heating it up, I sit behind the breakfast counter bar. I puncture the dish with the chopsticks a few times and then promptly throw it in the garbage.
I trudge to the living room and pour myself a glass of whiskey. The night lights flicker behind the window, the city full of life.
Never have I found the view so dissatisfying. I down my drink and pour myself another one. By the third one, I decide to go to sleep, but for some reason, I can’t make it upstairs.
I want to see her face when she comes home. The sick bastard in me wants to see if she looks as satisfied as she did on Friday night.
For hours, I alternate between pacing and sitting on the sofa. I doze off for a few hours, but as the morning sun peers through the windows, I’m wide awake and even more… What? Am I jealous?
I laugh out loud. That’s preposterous. Ignoring the lingering headache, I pour myself another whiskey, because that’s the way to start a day. I freeze when the elevator dings open.
I whip around, and my gaze collides with hers. Something perverted in me rejoices, because she definitely doesn’t look better than yesterday, or more satisfied. More like she slept about as much as me.
Fuck. Have they fucked all night ?
She walks across the large room gingerly.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice trembles.
“Where the fuck have you been all night?” I bark before I can stop myself.
She flinches.
At the question.
Or at my tone.
I’m past caring. I’ve been up all night, waiting for her.
Why am I so caught up with this? It’s like the less I can have her, the more I want her. What the actual fuck? By now I should know the farther I am from Celeste Delacroix, the better.
And yet here we are, glaring at each other like it’s an athletic discipline.
“I texted you my whereabouts,” she says through her teeth.
“I didn’t expect you to stay over. What were you thinking? What if someone saw you leaving there in the morning?” I’m full of shit.
She frowns and then cocks her head, assessing me like I’m a wild animal. And frankly, I don’t blame her. Even I can see that my behavior is way out of line. Way beyond normal. Or reasonable.
And I’m the one who made it clear that we wouldn’t repeat Friday night.
Under any other circumstances, I would have moved on already. Quickly and with no fuss. Maybe a bit of wining and dining, but often that’s not necessary.
So why don’t I do just that? Why is this woman like a high I’m chasing? Like making her mine is the only fucking thing on my mind. Like I’ll get some reward for breaking her will.
I won’t.
But it might make the next three years easier for both of us. But that’s water under the bridge, since she goes and fucks God knows who.
She keeps staring at me in that eerily still way. Her ability to control her body in this way, or any other way, is such a fucking turn-on.
Stop. This. Shit.
Finally, she takes one step closer, then another, placing her feet on the ground with caution like she isn’t sure it’s not quicksand.
“Why don’t you tell me what this is really about, Caleb?” She enunciates each word with the precision of a chainsaw, cutting right through me.
If I grind my molars harder, I might spit enamel soon. With another step, her scent hits me, and I hate that another man has…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I don’t get jealous. Is this a case of me hating to lose? There wasn’t a competition, but the taunting game between us was enticing enough to keep me interested.
More than I’ve been interested in anything for a while. And then Friday night just seared her into my mind.
“I’m talking about you being reckless.” Now I take a step, because that perfume of hers pulls me in like she’s the only woman on earth. My temptress.
Only she isn’t mine.
She takes another step, invading my space completely. The fabric of her skirt brushes my knees. “What is this really about, Caleb?”
The daring tone in her voice, and that French r of hers cloud my judgment completely, and I grab her wrist and pivot her.
With her hand pressed against the small of her back, between the two of us, I pin her against the window.
The city blurs below us, but my senses are crystal clear, focused on the woman in my hold.
Or the hold she has over me. Against my will.
Fuck, gentleman am I not this morning. Her soft behind molds against me, and my cock stirs.
Yes, I blamed my fake wife for not taking the threat of felony seriously enough, but here I am, practically assaulting her.
Her breath comes out in short bursts, just like mine. But she remains still, not fighting me. The caveman in me takes that as an invitation, and I lower my head to her neck.
My own breath bounces off her delicate skin, the whiskey reminding me of the night I had.
What am I doing? Like she burned me, I step back.
She spins around and steps to the side. Fuck. Have I scared her?
She glares at me as her lips part, but no words come out. She shakes her head and glances over the city. Either she’s trying to find her composure, or she can’t even look at me.
“What’s bothering you, Caleb? You fucked me, and then you made it clear that you’re done with me. So what is your fucking problem?”
“You want to know what this is really about? Well, black swan, what I don’t understand is why you trapped me in this marriage if you have a fuck buddy to lean on. What happened? He wasn’t available for three years?”
She laughs. She fucking laughs at that.
“Are you jealous?” She steps closer, taunting me with her essence, with her glare, with her no-nonsense attitude.
My nostrils flare. “Of course not.”
“Okay, then what is this little tantrum about, Caleb? You said you don’t want a repeat, so why does it bother you if I spent the night with someone else?”
Because I fucking want a repeat.
The minute the thought materializes, I lose my mind completely and claim her lips. She yelps, but immediately wraps her arms around me, pulling me closer.
The kiss is savage. Full of frustration and hate. But even full of agony, her taste is intoxicating.
Her taste. I remember it’s mingled with another bastard. And I almost step back, but something primitive in me snaps, and I need to erase him from her.
I walk her backward until her feet stumble on the glass stairs. She loses her balance, but recovers quickly, dropping to a step and pulling me with her.
She bites my lip and moans. The tangy taste of blood mixes with our saliva. With one knee between her legs, I reach under her skirt and cup her mound roughly.
She arches into my hand. “Fuck me, Caleb.”
“I’m nobody’s seconds,” I growl, but I rip off her underwear. “Not that he took care of you, your pussy is drenched.”
“Idiot,” she says in French. “Do you really think I’d have married you if there was someone else? I went to sleep at the Park Avenue place to get away from you, after you made it clear you were done with me. ”
What? A boulder that had no right to weigh down my chest dislodges. I pinch her jaw between my thumb and index finger. “I’m so going to punish you for that.”
“You should punish yourself for the way you behaved the morning after.” She pulls me to her and kisses me, her kiss even more aggressive than mine.
She reaches into my waistband, and as soon as her hand wraps around my cock, we both groan. And the time for words, while still very needed, evaporates as we frantically seek each other in the most primal way.
Celeste tugs down my sweats and boxers to expose my cock. She reaches for her purse that fell beside her and rummages through it.
“What are you doing?” I swipe my fingers through her folds. Fuck, she’s so ready for me.
“I have a condom here somewhere.” She pulls out a shiny square. “Voila.”
She rips the wrapper, and we both watch as she slowly, delicately sheathes my engorged hardness. The moment is in stark contrast with the previous turmoil. It’s like we need this reprieve to make sure we’re on the same page.
When she’s done, she circles her palm around my girth and squeezes gently. Her gaze finds mine, a challenge and a mild threat in her eyes.
And I take her wrath. I take it because I deserve it. I take it because even though I’m not ready for it, I can’t not have her.
But that’s the only still moment before I hike her legs over my shoulders and plunge into her, like I can really punish us both.
Her for making me believe she was with someone else.
Me for caring. For fucking wanting her.
We fuck like we hate each other. And at this moment, we probably do. We might have gotten married on paper. But neither of us signed up for the complications.
For the onslaught of desire that has robbed us of common sense and self-preservation skills.
The room echoes with our slapping bodies and moans. Unlike the first time, Celeste doesn’t need to be silent, and she expresses herself with abandon. And I can’t get enough of it.
“Come for me, black swan,” I growl, because I’m so close I teeter on the precipice.
It only takes one flick of my thumb over her clit, and she clenches, all her muscles tensing around me.
A few more thrusts and I follow, tilting my head and roaring my last tendrils of frustration into the ceiling.
We pant and glare at each other before I withdraw. She opens her mouth, but her eyes widen as the elevator dings. I pull my pants on, the full condom sagging awkwardly.
Leaning over the banister, I spot the visitor and swear under my breath. I slide Celeste to the side, as if that will help the situation.
“Wow, Cal, the view is spectacular!” Xander saunters in, two coffees in hand.
Fuck, he really got here early. He stops at the edge of the living room, squinting at me. Hopefully, the sun blinds him enough to hide what’s just gone down here.
“You’re here.” I step further into the living room to give Celeste some privacy. She remains there without moving, and if he has noticed her, he doesn’t let on.
He checks his watch. “Am I too early?”
“No, no. Why don’t you go to my office? It’s through that double door, down the hallway to the right. I need to grab something upstairs.” I put my hands in my pocket and cross one leg over the other, feeling the condom sliding down.
“What? No tour?” He takes a step.
“Later,” I snap. “Let’s talk business first.”
He narrows his eyes, then shrugs and moves to his left. I puff out a long breath.
I dash to her as soon as he disappears toward my office.
“Are you okay?” I help her stand up. Fuck, I hope the stairs didn’ t scratch her.
“Yes. Who is that?”
“Xander Stone, one of the partners at Merged.”
She giggles at that. “Dieu merci he didn’t come a minute sooner.” Her gaze drops to my crotch. “You better get changed.”
Sure enough, there’s a stain on my sweats. “Yeah, I’m glad the condom didn’t drop to the carpet in front of him.”
She laughs and bends to gather her things. I slap her ass, and she yelps. “Hey!”
“You deserve that.” I take a step up and turn to kiss her. “This is what you do to me. This is who I became after you cast your spell on me. My wild grew unhinged. My carnality has turned deviant. When I’m around you, my animal breaks all the cages and destroys all leashes. I hope you’re ready for the consequences.”