As Steve and Elle stepped into the Natura palace the warm Mediterranean breeze wrapped around them like a sultry embrace. Everything about the place screamed luxury—soft golden light filtering through tall windows, the scent of salt and citrus in the air, the distant sound of waves lapping against the shore.

Elle exhaled a happy sigh. "This is exactly what we needed."

Steve nodded, dragging their suitcase behind him. "Just us, a private beach, and nothing to do but relax."

The receptionist—a stunning blonde in a silky sarong that barely clung to her curves—greeted them with a knowing smile. "Welcome to Azure Sands, Mr. and Mrs. Carter."

Steve barely registered the flicker of something mischievous in her tone as he nodded. "That’s us."

She tapped at the computer, then leaned in slightly. "And, of course, you’re aware that Azure Sands is an exclusive resort?"

Elle raised an eyebrow. "Exclusive how?"

The woman’s lips curved. "Well… our clientele come here for a particular kind of freedom." She glanced toward the open terrace, where sunlight bathed a glistening infinity pool. And then, Elle saw them—beautiful, tanned bodies lounging poolside, bare skin gleaming in the late afternoon glow. Couples, laughing, drinking, some of them intimately close… hands trailing, lips grazing, eyes smouldering.

Steve’s fingers tightened on the handle of the suitcase. "Wait, this is a nudist resort?"

The receptionist’s smile deepened. "More than that, Mr. Carter. Much more."

Elle’s breath hitched as realization dawned. Her gaze flicked over the terrace again, watching as a striking brunette leaned into the man beside her, murmuring something that made him grin wickedly. Another woman—curvy, golden-skinned, with dark eyes that burned with invitation caught Elle’s gaze and winked.

Steve turned to Elle, eyes wide. "Did you know about this?"

"No!" she gasped, as her cheeks became suddenly flushed.

The receptionist tilted her head. "Many of our couples find the experience… exhilarating. But, of course, it’s entirely up to you how much you’d like to participate."

Elle turned to Steve, her heart hammering. This wasn’t what they’d planned. But the heat in the air, the sensual energy of the resort, the way Steve’s fingers twitched against her palm—it sent a thrill through her she couldn’t ignore.

Steve swallowed. "I mean… we did say we wanted to try something different."

Elle bit her lip. "Yeah. We did."

The receptionist’s smile was knowing. "Shall I show you to your suite?"

Steve hesitated for only a second before lacing his fingers through Elle’s, his pulse racing. "That would be great," he murmured, voice thick with something he hadn’t quite named yet. "I don’t know what different means but hey, we’re on holiday, right?"

Elle gave Steve a subtle glance. Did he have a feeling she knew ? squeezing his hand before turning to the receptionist. "You go ahead and get us settled in. I’ll grab us some drinks at the bar."

The blonde’s smile didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened. "Of course, Mrs. Carter. I’ll just pop up to your suite and make sure everything is in order." Her voice dripped with suggestion, her eyes lingering on Elle for just a beat too long before she turned on her heel and disappeared toward the elevators.

Steve exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Elle, what is happening right now?"

Elle smirked, nudging him toward the bar. "I think we just checked into a swingers’ paradise, babe."

Steve’s throat bobbed as he followed her. "And you’re not… freaking out?"

She tilted her head, considering. The resort was charged, the air thick with sultry energy, filled with knowing glances, lingering touches, and whispered secrets. Maybe it was the sun, or the setting, or the way her body tingled just being here, but… she wasn’t not intrigued.

By the time they reached the bar, Steve ordered them both a drink, but his eyes kept flicking toward the elevators. "You think she was serious about checking the room, or…?"

Elle swirled the ice in her glass. "Guess we’ll find out."

A few minutes later, the elevator doors slid open.

And there she was.

The receptionist—if that was even her real job—stepped out, no longer wrapped in the silky sarong. Instead, she wore only a sheer, white lace robe that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, left open enough to reveal a glimpse of smooth, tanned curves beneath. No bra. Just delicate lace against soft skin.

Elle's breath caught. Even Steve, normally composed, had to take a long sip of his drink.

The woman sauntered over, confidence radiating off her in waves, and placed a keycard on the bar in front of Elle, her manicured nails trailing just slightly against her fingers. "Everything’s perfect upstairs," she murmured, her lips curving. "I made sure of it."

Then she leaned in, her lips grazing just below Elle’s ear as she whispered, "If you need anything else… just ask."

And with that, she turned and strolled away, her hips swaying just enough to leave Steve and Elle sitting there, drinks untouched, pulses racing.

Elle licked her lips, glancing sideways at Steve. "So… do we go upstairs?"

Steve exhaled, eyes still locked on the woman’s retreating form. "I think we’d be crazy not to."