The tropical air hung heavy with jasmine and sea salt, the honeymoon resort's infinity pool shimmering under the moon like a sheet of liquid silver. I, Mia, lounged in my tiny bikini, the fabric clinging to my skin from the humid night, sipping a piña colada that tasted of rum and regret.
.Three days into our marriage, and my new husband, Ryan, was already passed out in our suite after too many glasses of champagne at dinner. His snoring had echoed through the room as I slipped out, restless, the thrill of our vows fading into the same old routine we'd carried from home. At 26, I craved something wild, something to shatter the predictability.
I craved hot s*x not vanilla that was Ryan.
The poolside was empty, just me and the distant crash of waves against the shore. I stretched out on the
