The dining room had settled into a warm hush by the time Ava and Daniel finished the last of their red wine. Candlelight shimmered across the table, catching polished silver and the soft curve of Ava’s glass. Beyond the tall lodge windows, mountain silhouettes dissolved into darkness—remote, beautiful, and far from the world they’d left behind that morning. The drive from home had taken nearly four hours, winding through...

“I don’t want to stop,” she heard herself say softly. Ava remained where Daniel had laid her, still blindfolded, still warm, the afterglow of what she’d allowed lingering in her body like a held breath. The room hadn’t changed—candlelight still glowed, the music still murmured—but she had. Something inside her had shifted from trembling to readiness, from revelation to curiosity. Daniel’s arm stayed firm at her waist, anc...