The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and jasmine through the open balcony doors of my villa. I stood there in nothing but a thin white silk slip, the fabric clinging to my body from the humid night air. At 28, I had come to this exclusive Maldives resort to escape my suffocating life the dead-end relationship, the demanding job, the version of myself that always played it safe. Tonight, I wanted to feel alive. I sipped my chilled champagne, staring at the moonlit waves when a deep voice cut through the silence behind me. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” I turned slowly. He leaned against the doorway connecting our private villas, a tall, devastatingly handsome stranger. Early thirties. Broad shoulders, dark tousled hair, and eyes the color of stormy seas. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing smooth, tanned skin and the hint of a muscular chest. A light scruff covered his sharp jaw. “I didn’t realize the villas were this close,” I said, my voice softer than
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