Page 13 of Sexted By a Stranger
"A little." I set down the sketch, turning my deep, focused gaze to her. "You design jewelry?"
This question seemed to hit her most vulnerable spot.
After several seconds of silence, as if gathering courage, she finally nodded slightly.
Her gaze drifted back to the sketches, lingering with near-reverence. "Since I was little. There's an alchemy to gems—they cradle light, trap time itself... seal away the most sacred memories."
She seemed to be talking to herself, yet also showing this intruder the light deep in her heart. "Before Leon got sick, I saved for a long time to take a community night school..." Her voice turned heavy with loss, forcing out a bitter smile. "Then I had to stop."
She lowered her eyes, her straight shoulders collapsing. That stubbornness was now shattered by reality's blows. I could almost feel the bone-deep exhaustion and despair.
Looking at her bowed head, her hands clenched white, crushed under life's burdens, thinking of her desperate decision to step into the mire for her family... an unprecedented, overwhelming wave of heartache instantly drowned all my composure.
Almost instinctively, I crossed to her in two strides.
The instant she looked up in shock, I reached out and pulled her hard against me.
I wrapped my arms around her slender waist and thin back, holding her tightly against my chest. Her whole body trembled. Her cheek pressed against my chest—I could clearly feel her rapid breathing and heartbeat, like dense drumbeats pounding against my heart.
"Mr. Bellomo. You—" She panicked, hands pushing against my chest, trying to break free.
"Shh..." I rested my chin on her sweetly scented hair, tightening my arms, gently patting her back, murmuring low, "Your fate shouldn't be this, stellina."
Chapter 5
Sheila
His words exploded in my ears, and my mind was consumed by a single thought: It's him. My blood seemed to freeze, then surge with heat all at once. Every struggle felt futile, drowned out by the deafening thud of my heartbeat, pounding so fast it threatened to burst through my chest.
Pressed against his solid, warm chest, I could feel his heartbeat vibrating in sync with mine. Slowly, I lifted my gaze, meeting those brown eyes so close they stole my breath. For the first time, I saw his face clearly, and it matched every detail of the handsome image I'd conjured in my mind. High-bridged nose, sharp jawline, thin lips pressed lightly together. His thick black hair was swept back, revealing a broad forehead, though a few rebellious strands fell forward with his movements, giving him a roguish, carefree edge.
He stared at me with such focus, and I swore I caught a flicker of tenderness in his gaze. The stranger who texted me in the dead of night, the mysterious man who saved me in my darkest hour and barged into my life with commandingpresence, the one whose words alone made my heart race—it was him.
My lips trembled, but no sound came out. Anger? Gratitude? Fear? Or was it that secret thrill, that hidden anticipation I felt rereading his texts alone in the dark?
His presence enveloped me, a mix of faint tobacco and deep cologne overwhelming my senses. His fingers gripped my chin, firm but controlled, leaving me no room to look away.
"Now, you know who I am, stellina."
The last syllable dropped, and his lips crashed onto mine.
My breath was stolen, his lips claiming mine with a fierce, sucking pull, his tongue boldly prying past my teeth. It was a sensation I'd never known—warm, wet, undeniable. Instinctively, I clutched his shirt, a strange heat spreading from our joined lips through my entire body.
My brain started to fog, thoughts slipping away as oxygen dwindled. My hands, braced against his chest, weakened, and I could only surrender to his near-plundering kiss.
A soft whimper escaped my throat, startling even me. It seemed to please him. The arm around my waist tightened, pulling me so close it felt like he wanted to fuse us together. His other hand slid from my chin, trailing down my neck, lingering at my collarbone, sending shivers rippling across my skin.
My resolve crumbled bit by bit. My body, unpracticed and unsure, began to respond to his kiss. My tongue tentatively brushed against his, only to be caught, drawn into a dance of entwined heat.
Sheila, you're fucking insane. You're kissing a stranger.
But he wasn't entirely a stranger. Those late-night texts, those words laced with care—they were real now, transformed into the warmth and weight of his touch.
His lips pressed deeper, my body softening like it was boneless, leaning into him just to stay upright. The air filled withthe intimate sounds of our breaths and the soft, wet slide of our kiss—mortifying, yet I was drowning in it.
His fingers grazed my waist, sending a jolt of electricity that made me arch closer to his chest. He let out a low, pleased chuckle, then kissed me harder, fiercer, like he was staking a claim. My breathing turned ragged, a soft moan slipping out as his lips slid from mine to my earlobe, nipping gently. His warm breath against my ear sent a full-body shudder through me.
"You're so damn cute," he murmured, his voice low, teasing, satisfied.
