Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
I went to type a generic—‘That’s fine. Have a nice life’—but my phone buzzed.
X: I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop watching you. And I’m afraid that when you no longer need me, I’m going to need you, and I honestly don’t know how this is gonna end for me.
The stinging tears from his previous message spilled down my cheeks. I’d never been a crier. I’d never been one to weep at movies or books or silly things like messages.
But lately…God.
Swiping the wetness off my face, I typed.
Me: I should reply like a normal person and say we don’t know each other. That what we’re doing is absolutely ridiculous…………
X: But…?
Me: The more we talk, the more I don’t want to stop.
X: You know you can trust me, right? No matter what? No matter what happens, I vow on my life, I will never ever hurt you.
Me: Why does that feel like foreshadowing?
X: Probably because it is. Eventually, we’ll have to stop. We can’t be pen pals for the rest of our lives.
A short laugh escaped.
Me: Oh, I don’t know. I think pen pals are very underrated.
X: I used to have one as a kid, actually. My family signed me up to converse with some kid in China as some sort of global networking. It was fun. We still flick emails every now and again.
Me: That’s actually super cool. Does writing notes to flower fairies count as having a pen pal? I posted them by leaving them in the garden. My nana always said if we gave thanks to the flower folk, then the blooms would be brighter.
X: I can see you being a flower child as a kid.
Me: And there you go again making me wonder if you’ve been in my house and snooped through the family photo albums.
X: If there are photos of you in there, don’t tempt me.
I gasped. That message felt decidedly unsafe and entirely too…fun.
God, fun.
Just like frustration, I’d missed fun.
I missed the highs and excitement. The long-lost art of flirting.
Flirting?
Have you lost your mind? You don’t know this man. How on earth can you think about flirting?
Especially after Milton. Especially after—
It was because of Milton that I even contemplated such a dalliance. Bracing my shoulders, I sucked up courage and threw myself into the first step toward freedom.
Me: Tell me something, X.
His message was slightly slower, but I shivered when my phone pinged.
X: Tell you what, Lori?
Ugh, my heart reacted again. That silly skip. That buoyant little bubble.
Who would’ve thought a nickname given to me by Alexander North could make me melt?
Every muscle locked as Alexander exploded in my mind. His trim chest as he appeared in his bedroom in just a towel. The droplets rolling down his lean muscles. The blinding pain in my scalp as Milton yanked me backward by my hair.
Sucking in a breath, I shoved Alexander away and focused entirely on the skull-masked stranger who’d stood like an immortal guardian in my garden last night.
Me: Do you watch me because you’re some closeted vigilante trying to be Batman, or do you watch me because you like me?
This time, his message took a while. I’d probably freaked him out. I didn’t send another one, dragging out whatever nerves he had.
Finally, my phone chirped.
X: I said I’d give you honesty, so…here’s honesty. I’ve watched you for a while. I’ve watched you far more than I should admit. And you’re right, it’s not entirely for the reasons of protecting you.
Me: How long?
X: That I can’t answer.
Me: Have you seen me naked?
His reply was instant, almost a knee-jerk reaction.
X: No! God, no. I wouldn’t. I look away if you ever get close to stripping.
He sent another one.
X: Fuck, I really, really suck at this. I didn’t mean anything by that. Look, I’ll make the decision for both of us and say we should stop this. I’ve probably freaked you the hell out, and I’m sick to death that I even admitted something like that.
He sent a third one before I could reply.
X: I’m sorry. You’re safe. I won’t contact you again. Goodnight, Lori.
My chest pinched at the thought of him following through with that promise. He couldn’t take away something I didn’t even know I needed.
Somehow, he’d made me feel seen without being pitied. Wanted without being terrified. Despite what’d happened, he still found me attractive. But he was gentle enough, human enough not to take something that didn’t belong to him.
I found that…
God, I’m turned on.
I laughed out loud as I pressed my thighs together and marvelled that I could feel even the inklings of pleasure after Milton.
Yet another cloud dispersed from my soul, leaving me warm and toasty instead of cold and empty.
Stroking my thumbs over the screen, I bit my bottom lip.
I had two ways of playing this.
I could play the victim that I’d become. I could allow the percolating panic in my gut to make him a bad guy and twist every message from honest to creepy. Or…I could be guided by instinct, which said that despite his actions, he was a good guy. After all, what did I know? I’d lived with an asshole and never seen the signs. Could it be possible that I spoke to a saint hidden behind a mask?