Chapter 2

Hart attempted to focus on the road, ignoring the swelling feeling in his pants. She was arousing him just by being herself and he couldn't hold back. Shifting the gear in place, he raged all the way to his secret nest, a place even his father didn't know of. The house was a secret location that only he and Milla knew. Following her death three years ago, he had fallen into deep misery. Tonight had been her death anniversary, and he had visited her grave that afternoon. One year ago on the same night, he had decided that it was time that he let her go. But the house would always remain, to preserve the sweetest memories they had spent together. To his surprise, he had chanced upon a person so similar to her. Myra alighted cautiously, taking a step at a time as she followed Hart into the vacant house, awestruck. It was a splendid yet homely escape. A warm and fuzzy feeling spread in her chest as she stepped into the living room, curious by what Hart was planning to do. The house was just as clean as it was at her death. Hart would hide in the house whenever he felt down or lonely. His beliefs led him to believe Milla had moved on in the afterlife. He knew Milla would have wanted him to move on as well, but he had yet to find that particular someone who could fill up the empty space in his heart. 'Wait," he signalled to Myra, before disappearing momentarily to reappear with one of Milla's unused bathrobes. Since she didn't have a change of clothes, that would have to do for now. She closed the glass bathroom door behind her, which was translucent enough for him to sight the shape of her body against the glass. Myra had such great curves, and the wet dress just amplified them. He heard the sounds of her unclasping her bra, taking a few deep, rapid breaths to calm his furious heart. The bathrobe ended just below her knees, but what concerned him was how he was imagining her under the bathrobe. Her bare and smooth skin, completely naked apart from the thin material of the bathrobe. Fortunately, Myra did not appear to have a problem with the robe, appearing particularly mischievous as she questioned him. 'Is this where you live?" Myra winked. 'Or do you hide women here?" By now, Myra was convinced that Hart was a gigolo of some sort. Judging by the way he carried himself and his attitude towards her, in spite of being bold, there was no way he could be one of the wealthy socialites of Bali. In fact, he was rather humble. Yet, the fact that he had just brought a stranger back to his home proved to her he was willing to sell his body for benefits. She couldn't blame him when she had shared such ill intentions. Now that he was standing before her, she had a full view of his 6'2" height. She was a mere 5'6", feeling small and powerless against his tall and slim figure. 'It's where I drink," he said the truth. Revealing the stash carefully stowed away in a hidden compartment under the sofa, he withdrew one bottle of red wine. He returned briefly with two wine glasses and offered Myra a glass, which he filled to the brim. She emptied it with glee and gestured for Hart to refill the glass. Her capacity to drink often left others in awe, but for Hart, it only reminded him more of how his Milla had been a superb drinker. 'Such similarity…" he whispered in a soft tone, handing her the fifth glass. By the sixth glass, the alcohol was getting to her, although she found herself still capable of walking and dancing. A voice in her wanted to cry out her sorrows of how she had wished for everything with Jake, giving him her virginity and naively believing he was genuinely interested in her. They had shared the same bed in the hotel for weeks, making love to each other every day until the day she found him embracing the unknown girl at the party. And now she wanted to desperately cleanse her mind and body of such filth. 'You're crying," Hart ventured closer, gently rubbing away the tears in her eyes with his sleeve. 'Did I say or do something wrong? Or you don't like the wine?" She sighed and shook her head. 'It's all in the past. A failed relationship. That's all." He absorbed the sorrow in her words. 'Milla, forget the past. Let me heal your pain." 'Myra," she corrected. Then she looked at him intensely. 'Accompany me tonight. You will be handsomely paid in the morning." He liked how feisty she was. Playfully he pinned her down on the sofa, caressing her apple-red cheeks. 'Okay, Miss Myra. I'm at your service. What do you want me to do?" She felt a tear descend her cheek. 'Help me forget him. I can't wait until the day I manage to erase him completely from my mind. His presence is dirtying me." He knew it was pointless to ask whether this ‘him' was the failed relationship and promptly released her, caressing her hair gently. His lips brushed against hers, slowly cajoling her to open her mouth as he filled her with the warmth of his kisses. The sensation soothed her, making her forget she was with a man she had just met more than an hour ago. One hand snaked around her narrow waist, while the other crept up her thigh, triggering sensations she had not realised before. The alcohol in her bloodstream was leading her mind astray, and in no time she found herself wet with craving. Perhaps this man was the answer to her problems, she thought, kissing him back angrily as his tongue met with hers passionately. Milla, Milla… he called out unconsciously in his mind. Is it you? He remembered how Milla had loved for him to pull on her robes, undressing her in a moment of flurry. This time, Myra was egging him on, pulling him against her bare body as her robe fluttered to the ground, getting lost in the darkness of the night. He pulled away from Myra suddenly, realising his blunder. There was no way she could be Milla and be still alive, especially after he had found her lifeless body in the forest, with her clothes ripped apart. The police had suspected she had been robbed, but he had always felt that there was something more. Milla had to be murdered. Watching how the woman below him was convulsing with need, he realised his blunder. She was Myra, not Milla. Her eyes flew open and she yelled at him irately. 'Why did you stop? Did I allow you to stop? You have to take responsibility for what you promised!" His eyes turned dark with desire. 'Myra, are you not afraid of something more than this? Will you be able to withstand what follows?" Her eyes challenged him like a fighter towards his opponent. 'I accept your challenge." His heart was thumping. He looked down at this woman standing without a stitch on her, with her arm raised in challenge. 'Are you sure?" Before she could object, he lifted her up bridal style and carried her into the master bedroom. It was a room he had made love with Milla countless times. In his heart, he apologised to her a few times, although he reckoned Milla would have wanted him to have another in her absence. Dimming the lights, he set Myra down on the bed, where he resumed his passionate conquest of her lips. Myra prepared herself for what was about to come next, closing her eyes as she felt his hands streak down her bare shoulders to explore her naked torso. His touches were bringing chills down her spine, yet she knew she was already responding to his teasing. Jake had never touched her like that before, often finishing quickly and falling asleep after. She found herself moaning incessantly with each stroke of his fingers until the exact moment arrived, causing her moans to turn to that of pain. But the pain she felt had been accompanied by pleasure. After what seemed like forever, she collapsed from tiredness in his arms, only for her to relive the moment as he took her again and again. Hart turned out to have an insatiable appetite. In addition, her body was throbbing from all the hickeys he had left on her body. Albeit her discomfort, she was leaning into his arms and yearning for more. He lifted her chin up to face him. 'Now, do you understand what it means to be able to withstand what follows?" he quelled her with his hot-blooded tone. Ah! So that was what he meant! All of a sudden, they were disrupted by some loud knocks on the door. From the window, fearsome-looking silhouettes passing by instilled fear in Myra. Hart hushed her with a finger on his lips. 'Stay silent! They can't know I'm here!" he whispered. She shivered, pulling the blanket over her head in her fluster. Were they about to die at the hands of killers?