Morning light filtered through gauzy curtains, harsh against Stiles’s sticky eyelids. Every muscle screamed—thighs, ass, jaw. A low groan escaped her cracked lips. The scent of sex lingered thick in the air.

The suite door clicked open. Stiles flinched, curling into herself. Soft footsteps approached—feminine, unhurried. "Relax, Stiles," a melodic voice purred. Stiles blinked. Standing beside the bed was Lydia—a staff member she’d glimpsed yesterday. Her beauty was breathtaking: curves straining against the resort’s tiny black silk uniform, plunging neckline barely containing full breasts, skirt riding high on thick thighs. Her skin glowed, and her smile was knowing. "Strip," Lydia ordered softly, placing a medical kit on the bedside table. "I need to examine you."