Chapter 2

The mysterious stranger led me out of the club and into a private room in the establishment next door.

The booming bass of the music was instantly severed the moment he shut the door. It was darker inside, bathed in the glow of a single deep-red lamp in the corner. A bed sat in the middle of the room, and a white towel had been spread across it.

The man took off his shirt, revealing tanned skin and bulging pectorals. The air conditioning was low, making the room feel heavy and warm. The thin layer of sweat covering his muscles sparkled tantalizingly under the dim light, making my throat go dry.

He stalked toward me, pinning me against the wall and leaning down to breathe gently against my ear. "Do you like what you see, miss?"

With his muscles in such close proximity, the sheer force of his seduction combined with my lack of inhibitions made only one thought roar through my mind—Jason could go to hell.

I would have my own "new beginnings"! I would have as much as I wanted!

Nevertheless, the remaining flicker of my rational mind forbade me from speaking such vulgar words aloud.

"Give me your best service," I managed instead.

He let out a soft laugh at my words and scooped me into his arms. However, when he leaned down for a kiss, I turned my head away, rejecting him.

Not at all bothered by the rebuff, he turned to place me on the massage bed.

As he slowly slid my dress down, I could feel his eyes burning into my back. It wasn't the professional gaze of a masseur; it was an assessing look… the way one might appraise an object.

Under the dim red light, my porcelain skin flowed into the gentle curves of my waist. The shadow cast upon my collarbones trembled like butterfly wings with every shallow breath I took.

His icy fingers trailed from the top of my spine down to my tailbone before gently hooking into the waistband of my underwear.

Then, he plucked at the elastic lightly.

The snap had me shuddering.

"You truly are gorgeous."

I heard the click of a bottle opening, followed by the viscous, sticky sound of oil being poured out. An intense scent of sandalwood began to fill the room.

"Don't be hasty. Let's play a little game first." He purposely huffed a breath against the back of my ear, sending another tremor through me.

Without warning, a pair of warm, oiled hands landed on the back of my neck.

He had powerful hands. As he pressed down, I could feel the thick calluses on his fingertips and palms. Rather than a massage, it felt more like he was searching for something—he wasn't holding back his strength at all.

His thumbs slid down the outside of my spine, deliberately pausing to increase the pressure whenever he reached the small of my back or my waist.

A tingling numbness shot through me, surprisingly pleasant. I couldn't help but squirm, my movements causing the white towel to bunch and wrinkle beneath me.

"Is it sore here?"

He asked even though he clearly knew the answer. His hands slipped further down, his fingertips coming to rest at the seam where my hips met my thighs. As if by accident, his fingernails scraped against the soft, sensitive flesh.

The sensation sent a jolt through my entire body, making my toes curl. My breathing quickened, growing heavy and erratic as the alcohol finally took full control of my senses.

His fingers drew lazy circles on my back. The massage oil, warmed by his palms, left a trail of heat wherever he touched me.

"S-Slow down…"

"Alright, miss." He leaned down to murmur in my ear, "You're severely blocked here, you know."

On the surface, his words sounded like any ordinary massage. Yet, his movements were extraordinarily sensual—almost predatory.

He dragged his fingers across the curves of my waist with a featherlight touch before suddenly pressing hard into the hollow above my tailbone. As he alternated between those light grazes and heavy, firm pressure, I couldn't stop myself from panting.

"You are so very sensitive. I don't think I can hold myself back anymore."