The villa's living room was in disarray.
A man's suit jacket lay carelessly draped over the armrest of the sofa.
A woman's dress had slipped onto the carpet.
Ethan Sullivan's tie dangled from the edge of the coffee table.
"This shirt design is quite unique," Sophia murmured, her fingers tracing the restraint strap at his collar.
She slowly undid the buttons, one by one.
The shirt fell open, revealing his sculpted chest.
His abdominal muscles tensed with each breath.
The V-line disappeared beneath his waistband.
The usually composed Ethan now had a flush creeping up his neck, his eyes dark with desire.
"Sophia," he rasped, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Warm golden light bathed their entangled gazes.
The air between them grew thick.
Neither could remember who moved first.
The moment their lips met, reason shattered.
Outside, the storm raged.
The bedside lamp cast a soft glow.
Sophia straddled Ethan's hips, her fingers gripping his shoulders.
His hands anchored her waist.
"Progress on the black market lead," he said, voice rough.
The muscles of his back flexed beneath her touch.
Veins traced a path along his spine.
Beads of sweat rolled down his taut skin.
"Good," Sophia breathed, sweeping her hair over one shoulder.
Her curls cascaded like dark waves, framing her striking features.
Ethan's breathing grew ragged.
Their bodies burned where they touched.
Too hot.
Sophia gasped between kisses. "Ryan found traces of the human experimentation lab."
"We'll need Julian Valentine as cover."
Ethan's expression darkened.
"You're thinking of another man right now?"
In one swift motion, he flipped her onto the mattress.
His knee parted her thighs.
A shared groan escaped them as he filled her.
"Am I not working hard enough?"
The night deepened.
Sophia trembled in his arms, waves of pleasure crashing over her.
Desire knew no bounds.
Noon sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains.
Sophia blinked awake.
The marks on her chest bore witness to last night's passion.
He had been relentless—a starving beast.
Her bare feet touched the cold floor, the chill banishing sleep's remnants.
The aftermath of their tryst had already been cleared away.
Clothes hung neatly in the walk-in closet.
Her heels stood in perfect alignment, like museum pieces.
"Domesticity doesn't suit you," she teased, pulling on one of his shirts.
The hem barely covered her thighs.
Downstairs, Ethan moved about the kitchen.
His deep V-neck robe revealed the contours of his chest.
The apron strings accentuated his narrow waist.
Messy strands of hair softened his usually sharp demeanor.
He looked nothing like the suited CEO.
"Eat after you shower," he said, plating breakfast without turning.
His morning voice was rough velvet.
"Mr. Sullivan, the perfect husband material," Sophia purred, catching his chin.
Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth.
"Your reward."
Something flickered in the depths of Ethan's gaze.
Humming, Sophia headed to the shower.
Water traced the curves of her body.
Wrapped in a towel, she emerged to find Ethan holding out a dry cloth.
"Starving," she complained, rubbing her sore lower back.
"My fault." His fingers wove through her damp hair.
The gentleness of his touch spoke volumes.
"Where'd you learn to cook?"
"Self-taught. Online tutorials."
The tendons in his hands stood out under the light.
The scent of gardenias enveloped them.
Sophia sighed contentedly.
"I hit the jackpot."
Time slowed.
The hum of the hairdryer lulled her into drowsiness against his chest.
On the dining table, glazed ribs glistened.
Sophia bit into the crispy exterior.
"Retire and be my private chef."
"Name your salary."
"Double the year-end bonus."
Ethan wiped sauce from her lips.
"Just keep me fed."