ARIA
The days on the island blur into one long, sun-soaked exhale.
We swim until our skin is salty and pruned, my body brushing underwater in teasing grazes that always end with him pinning me against a rock or the pool edge, sliding into me slow and deep while waves lap at our joined skin.
We eat ripe figs and honey on the terrace, juice dripping down my breasts, his tongue chasing every drop until I’m begging him to take me right there on the table.
We explore hidden coves and cliffside paths, making love on beaches.
But mostly, we talk.
Endless, unguarded conversations that strip us bare in ways s*x never could.
One night, lying tangled in sheets that smell of salt and us, stars visible through the open terrace doors, he asks the question I’ve been waiting for.
“Do you want kids
