That night, the villa glowed with soft golden lights, the sound of waves crashing rhythmically outside like a private soundtrack. Stiles hummed a happy tune in the open kitchen, dressed in a tiny sundress that hugged her curves—low-cut to show off her deep cleavage, hem barely skimming her thighs. She stirred a pot of fresh seafood pasta, the aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. She’d gone off her pills that morning, a secret thrill buzzing through her as she imagined his seed taking root tonight. Derek wouldn’t know; she’d make sure of it.

Derek lounged against the counter, fresh from a shower in just loose linen pants, his eyes glued to her every move. He couldn’t keep his hands off her—sliding up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck, hands roaming up to cup her braless tits through the fabric. “God, baby… you look so fucking domestic and sexy cooking for daddy. Makes me wanna bend you over right here.”