Page 51 of Texting Mr. Stranger

When I step aside and wave a hand, he moves past me, his body brushing close to mine. I’d think I was imagining it if it weren’t for last night. I close the door behind him. Turning, I find him staring at me with that captivated look—obsessed. That’s what I’d think if I didn’t know better.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. That’s not me speaking, though. That’s the confident, sex-filled version of myself I’m not sure exists anywhere other than texts.

“Like what?”

“No, be honest. Why?”

He flinches like my words have had a big effect on him. Maybe it’s the wordhonestthat did it. He doesn’t want to lie to me anymore. I’m sure I can read that in his earnest eyes.

“Because I need to kiss you again,” he says fiercely, “but now isn’t the best time, is it?”

No, it’s not, Bella from a different universe might say.You owe me answers. Until then, I want nothing to do with you. Until then …

Instead, I do something daring, something I’m only capable of because my body is still aching from last night. I throw my arms around his shoulders, standing on my tiptoes and guiding my lips to his. Before I can reach him, he leans down with a throaty rumble, pressing his lips firmly against mine. I gasp and cling onto him tightly, our mouths opening and our bodies searing with heat as we sink even closer together.

He slides his hands down to my hips, sinking his hands into me with a groan that tells me he needs this.Need. The word should be silly, but as the kiss deepens, it’s anything but.

He only stops when he hears movement deeper inside the house.

“Bella?” Mom calls.

“I’m here,” I reply, walking into the living room.

“I’m out of the bath. I’m going to take a nap. Wake me if there’s anything …” She hesitates and says, “… I need to know.”

“I will, Mom. Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?” She sounds confused.

“Because you trusted me.”

“I always will!” she calls, her voice trembling like she’s trying to keep herself together. I turn back to see that Matt is leaning against the wall. He’s removed his suit jacket and rolled the sleeves up, showing his firm and powerful forearms. “I take it you didn’t come here just for the smooching?”

“Smooching,” he repeats with a smirk.

“Is something funny?”

“No, it’s just … after the day we had, the fact we can both smile is a goddamn miracle.”

“So you’re basically saying we’re Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61, hmm?”

He flashes a grin. “You’ve got me there.”

“It was a miracle of a composition … so complex, yet he was losing his hearing.”

“You’re too poetic for me,” he says, pushing away from the wall and standing beside me. No,overme, as if he wants to remind me of our size difference. It is as if he needs me to know how much bigger he is, not to intimidate me but to make me feel safe. “But yeah, like that …”

He takes my hand with surprising gentleness. “Sit down, Bella. I need to tell you what’s going on. You deserve to know the truth. Even if it’ll mean you never want to see me again.”

I swallow, my belly twisting with nerves. Cowardly voices hiss inside that I should tell him no. I don’t need to know. I don’t need the truth. All I need is to live in a bubble we’ll create together.

Slowly, I do as he says, sitting on the couch. He sits next to me, never letting my hand go. I shuffle closer to him and rest my head against his shoulder. His body stiffens for a moment, almost like he’s going to push me away, but then he wraps his arm around me.

Let’s just stay like this.

Instead, I say, “You’re a criminal, right?”

He sighs tiredly. “It’s a bit mo—No, you’re right. Yes, that’s what I am.”

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