The golden afternoon sun hung low over the private stretch of Selena Beach, painting the sand in molten hues of amber and rose. The tide had retreated, leaving behind a glistening expanse of wet grains that reflected the sky like scattered diamonds. A gentle breeze carried the scent of saltwater and wild jasmine, mingling with the faintest trace of coconut oil—Selena’s favorite lotion.
She stood at the water’s edge, her toes sinking into the cool sand as the waves lapped hungrily at her ankles. The bikini she wore was nothing more than two tiny triangles of crimson fabric, barely containing the full, heavy curves of her breasts or the soft swell of her hips. Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and sunscreen, the heat of the day making every inch of her tingle. She had chosen this moment deliberately—after the tourists had thinned out, when the beach belonged only to those who understood its secrets.
A shadow fell across her from behind.
Selena didn’t turn immediately. She felt the presence before she saw him—tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of man who carried himself with quiet confidence. She exhaled slowly, letting the sea breeze tease her damp skin, before finally glancing over her shoulder.
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