Morning Tryst: X Art Gianna

She leaned against the stone balustrade, watching the sea turn from slate to sapphire. The scent of jasmine and salt clung to the air.

The first thing Gianna became aware of was the warmth. It pooled through the sheer linen curtains, turning the white sheets into a river of liquid gold. The second thing was the weight of an arm draped across her waist, possessive even in sleep.

“How so?”

She had a feeling this tryst was just the beginning.

“You took the warmth with you.”

His voice was a low rumble, thick with sleep. She didn’t turn around.

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. 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.

He lifted her then, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her back toward the tangled sheets. The sun climbed higher, spilling across the bed as he lowered her down. She leaned against the stone balustrade, watching the