21Naturals
Rebecca Volpetti, Raul Costa Pic(s)
The first touch was not of skin, but of light, a slow amber spill from the window that gilded the curve of a shoulder and the delicate ridge of a spine. A single strand of dark hair, escaped from its loose arrangement, traced a path down the nape of her neck, a silken thread agat the warm, living canvas of her body. His gaze, heavy with a quiet intensity, followed the languid descent of his own fingers as they ghosted over the subtle swell of her hip, feeling the fine tremor that rippled beneath the surface at the contact. The air itself grew thick, fragrant with the scent of her skin, a mixture of clean linen and something uniquely, intimately sweet like sun-warmed honey. A soft sigh escaped her lips, not a word but a breath that parted them slightly, a silent invitation that hung in the space between their bodies. He watched the pulse at the base of her throat quicken its rhythm, a frantic, captive bird beating agat the delicate cage of her collarbone. The simple cotton sheet, rumpled and soft, pooled low around her waist, its white folds a stark, innocent contrast to the gathering heat that bloomed across her chest and flushed her cheeks. Every sense was amplified, from the whisper of linen shifting agat skin to the almost imperceptible sound of a swallow catching in her throat. In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to this single, breathless point of anticipation, where the only truth was the breathtaking architecture of her form unfolding before him, becoming more exquisite with every passing second.
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