The resort villa was quiet except for Noah’s deep, rhythmic snoring. Stiles waited until the sound was steady, then slipped out of bed like a shadow—barefoot, heart pounding, the small key clutched in her palm. She wore the tiny satin nightdress from earlier, the fabric clinging to her curves and already damp between her thighs from anticipation. She padded down the dimly lit hallway, past sleeping doors, until she reached the private suite Derek had booked.

Her hand trembled as she slid the key in. The door clicked open.