Victoria Falls.

Chapter 1

Victoria.

"You can wear these," he said,
handing me an oversized sweater and sweatpants. I clinge to them and run them over my nose.

The scent he had on gave me chills.
"You can use my bathroom to clean up the dirt and blood.I'll take a shower in the guest bedroom ..."

For a second or two, I stared at his hard abs. The t-shirt he had on showed all his angles, which only made me lose my mind.
The sound of his husky voice made me even more impatient.I could listen to it all night long.

"And Vic?"

His gaze met mine. For the first time I felt whole. His rich blue eyes locked with mine, and for a second we had a moment.

"Yeah."

I turned to look at the fully furnished room. Nothing to really show for memories. It was so full yet so empty of emotion.
I gazed around to find something to rather focus on. The designer did an outstanding work indeed, the buyer however has a dry humor for everything.

The neutral room, suddenly became darker.
The smile on his flat cheeks, no longer evident.

"Be quick, so that I can take you to your place." I nodded.

"I was thinking of staying her for a day just until I recover."

Bryson glanced at Victoria, his eyes narrowing.
Voluntarily, I tilted to meet his gaze.
His lower lip covered with water.

Involuntarily, I bite a corner of my lower lip. His eyes oozed with distraction.
He flashed an uneasy smile.
I shrug, causing tension to build up.
Not for long, pretense had overwhelmed me.

My eyes sparkled, like a baby's, asking for a lollipop.
He couldn't bare to see me sad.
He shrug.
His emotionless face turning bored.

"That is okay,as long as you are out of my space."
He flashed an uneasy smile again and was quickly out of the room.
I held steadily to his dark sofa, that provided comfort to my sore ribs.

                           ~~~~~~

On my right, a thin whitery railing--clean lined, provided support to my sore ribs.
They all broke,must be from repeatedly hitting the steering wheel.
The narrow staircase only agonized me.

Slowly, my eyes narrowed to my sidearm, noticing a trace of blood being left behind.
For every move, the intensity increased.

Finally arriving to two doors, side by side.
Supposedly the bedrooms. Opening the first, I grabbed the handle.
Pulling it down gently.

I glanced around...--Different setting but the feeling hadn't changed.
Clean lines, modern interior and high end finishes, but no pictures of his little self or his family whatsoever.

My eyes fixed, I narrow them to noticing a shirt covered in dirt and stains of blood.
With no doubt, my heart skips two beats at once.

My ribs contracted from all the nervousness.
Slowly, I move close to the closet.
Amazingly, a vintage bag sat underneath a pile of colour organized shirts.
"Whatever that is here sure has the power to change my life!", my eyes locked on the price.

I suppressed a groan of hurt and frustration.
The dust covering the suitcase, proves it has been stacked for a while.
I blew off the dust. The case was carved T.S-- must have belonged to a relative of his. Uneasily, I pulled it a little closer and cracked it open.

For some time, the hassle was quite annoying, I turned to look for a sharp object.
One last try did the trick. Inside, were a few letters all initialed T.S.

"This T.S person must have been someone really important to him.
But where could he be? Must be really hard for Mike -- " , a thought flashed.
Inside were a stack of neatly packed clothes. What caught me off guard was the dirt and blood stains in each of them.

Nervously, I look under the pile of folded shirts-- there is a group of objects. A knife and two identical guns, incraved T.S.
Suddenly, my heart pounded even faster.
This mysterious T.S man had to be really dangerous.

Folding everything back into place, I run over a picture of a tall, white man, brown eyes and heavily, built next to a child I would identify as Mike.
They seemed to be really happy.

Only if he was still that happy, he is numb to emotions, it's like he has completely given up on everything.
I packed everything back in order and slowly closed the closet.

What I forgot was to lock the suitcase that contained evidence that could be linked to many murders.
Surprisingly, he packed everything away.
I shrug to his passion for murder.

A little cracked, the closet made me realize I hadn't checked why there was water running in the bathroom.
I ran my back against the wall and pushed my head to look over into the bathroom through the cracked door.
There stood, the ruthless simon Stewart.

His heavily built body reflected over the wall mirror.
His skin shined from the light on the wall.
The water that covered his silky body only made me thirsty.

As I stood there he turned to face the mirror. My mouth dropped open.
The intensity only increased, suddenly numb to the pain of my sore ribs and broken nose.

The waves that ran through my body, intensified every muscle. My heart pacing at his overly dramatic juicy lips.
How I would tear them off.

His chest rested well above his abdominal muscles, toned abs. Noticing the little droplets of water run off his chest, my mind began to be wild.
He ran a white, long towel over his shoulders and went over to his waist. Only then did I notice that I was staring at an undressed man, who could possibly be a serial killer.

Noticing that I was staring at his manhood, he covered himself with the towel and approached the door.

I shrugged, my body froze and my tongue twisted.
Lost for words, the only thing I could say was, "I, I...".

Anger built up inside him and the nerve-wracking experience made my legs shake.

"What were you doing in my closet?" , he asked.

I giggled nervously." I was looking for a better sweater, this one is too big."

"My suitcase is open, the closet door is cracked, and I noticed you gazing at me over the bathroom mirror-- explain that."

"Okay", agreeing to the accusations, then felt guilt. I turned my pockets inside out and handed him a piece of letter.
A stream of sweat breaking out of my skin.

"Who the hell gave this to you?"

Suddenly becoming aggressive, his elbow quickly took over my neck.
After a few seconds of resisting, he pinches me to the narrow wall.

The drops of water still evident, with no air coming in whatsoever-- my concern is how devilishly handsome he looked.
"How can someone look this good when they are angry", sweat increasingly broke out of my forehead.

I gulped for a hint of air, as I struggled my last thoughts of his face would have been a memory I would have held. Every corner of his body turned me on.

Finally releasing me, I fell down to the ground and after a few minutes the pain rose gain.

For a man who didn't laugh with anyone, I thought he didn't care about anyone.
But didn't he, well he suddenly proved me wrong.

He placed his hand on the back of my neck and another on my legs and grabbed me.
A freshed breeze brushed against our intertwined bodies.His hard dick on the side of my ass cheek, I brushed him off.

From my lips, his intense gaze of sorrow drew an apology.

"Sorry", suddenly not comfortable in his hands, feeling the guilt breaking me down.
He just continued walking and pulled a chair on his laptop table to the bathroom, placing me on top.

As he put my gentle body down, his cheeks brushed off mine.
Slowly releasing my hands from his body.
He let out a groan and in the naked light I saw a flashback of when I met Marc.
His scent overwhelmed the room, his eyes lazier than a snail, without a word whatsoever he left me with an intense feeling.