X Art Gianna Morning Tryst -

There were no words for a while. Just soft gasps, the whisper of his name on her lips, the way her back arched as he kissed a path down her stomach. He learned her all over again—the hitch in her breath when he touched her ribs, the way she pulled him closer when he teased.

“How so?”

She traced the scar near his eyebrow. “Make me breakfast first.” x art gianna morning tryst

She had a feeling this tryst was just the beginning.

“I was painting you in my head,” he murmured. “The light on your shoulder. The way your hair fell across the pillow.” There were no words for a while

The villa was silent except for the distant crash of the Mediterranean against the rocks below. A lizard skittered across the terracotta tiles of the balcony.

“You’re cruel, you know.”

She smiled, a secret, slow curve of her lips. She heard the sheets rustle, the soft pad of his feet on the cool floor. Then his hands were on her shoulders, sliding down her arms, wrapping around her from behind. His chest was warm against her back. His lips found the spot just below her ear.

“Did you get it right?”

He kissed her. It wasn’t hungry like last night. It was deep and slow, like the tide coming in. His thumb traced her collarbone. Her fingers threaded through his hair. The world was just this: skin on skin, the sound of the sea, and a morning that felt like it belonged only to them.