Beautiful Stranger

dropped it onto my bed. “Why? You could afford more.”
    I shrugged, mesmerized by the way his pulse hammered in his throat. Why were we talking about the size of my apartment? I wanted to know what was in the bag. He only ever carried his wallet, phone, and a house key. “I don’t need more right now.”
    His eyes moved to mine and he nodded once, lips tilting in a half smile. “You’re a complicated woman, Sara Dillon.”
    Sometimes after I went for a long run, I was so high afterward that I couldn’t do anything but go back out and run some more. I would have so much energy in my blood, I couldn’t stand to be still. I felt like that now.
    “Max, I’m . . .” I held up my hand to show him how much it was shaking. “I don’t know what to do right now.”
    “Undress for me.” He dug into his bag and pulled out a huge, fancy camera. “I want pictures of everything tonight,” he said, gazing at me through the lens. The sound of the shutter set my heart racing inside my chest. I felt dizzy, lightheaded.
    “Including our faces,” I said quietly.
    “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse. “Exactly.”
    I looked down at my clothes: ivory silk shirt with small, pearl buttons, and a straight, black skirt.
    Undress for me.
    I liked having a task to focus on. The weight of last night still pressed on my heart, and the sight of him in my bedroom almost broke me.
    I lifted my hands to the top button of my blouse.
    My fingers still shook.
    It was different like this, in my apartment with no one but his camera to witness. What was I showing him tonight? My body? Or everything beneath my skin: my heart and fears and wild, thrumming longing for him?
    I heard the click of the shutter followed by Max’s deep voice. “The way you seem nervous makes me think you don’t know that I’m in love with you.”
    I looked up at him, eyes wide and hands frozen.
    Click.
    “I love you, Petal. I’ve known it for a while now, but everything changed for me last night.”
    I nodded, feeling dizzy. “Okay.”
    He bit his lip and then released it to give me a wicked grin. “Okay?”
    “Yeah.” I returned to my buttons, slipping each one free at a time. I fought the world’s most enormous smile.
    Click.
    “You have nothing to say but ‘okay’?” he asked, looking up from behind the camera. “I tell you I love you, and I don’t even get a ‘thanks’ or ‘how lovely’?”
    I let the shirt fall to the floor and turned my back to him, reaching behind me to unhook my bra— click —and dropping it.
    Click. Click.
    I unzipped my skirt, and it joined the other items on the floor as I turned back to face him.
    “I love you, too.” Click. “But I’m terrified.”
    He lowered the camera, eyes on me.
    “I didn’t want to fall in love with you,” I said.
    He took a step closer. “If it makes you feel any better, you put up a very impressive fight.”
    He didn’t put the camera down when he stepped forward again to kiss me. He just moved his hand to the side and cupped my face with the other, pressing his mouth to mine.
    “I’m scared, too, Sara. I’m scared I’m your rebound. I’m scared we’ll cock it up somehow. I’m scared you’ll tire of me. But the thing is,” he said, smiling, “I don’twant anyone else. You’ve rather ruined me for other women.”
    He must have taken hundreds of pictures of me as I finished undressing, climbed back on the bed, watched him prowl over me and tell me more of how he felt: distracted, insatiable, like he could thank Andy then kill him, like he was sincerely worried he wouldn’t ever be able to get enough of me. Every reaction I had, he captured, obsessed over.
    Hovering above me, he trained the camera on my torso, where his body brushed against mine. I closed my eyes, lost in the way he felt and in the soft sounds of the camera clicking. When I opened them again, my eyes met his.
    I reached out, angling the camera toward my neck. He took the shot, letting me lead as I positioned it higher, and higher still. He looked at me through the lens.
    His hands shook as he adjusted the focus, taking shot after shot of my face, of his fingers tracing my jaw or cupping my cheek, as he held the camera away to capture us kissing.
    And then everything in the moment became about the feeling of his mouth on me, and the feeling of his hair in my hands, his tongue moving over me, his lips pressing words into my skin. I felt every breath he took and every small sound he made. I could feel his