Bill's head tilted up easily at her guidance, and he welcomed her kiss gladly. His arm around her waist kept her pulled in against him, maybe even a little closer, and his other hand shifted from her knee to her hip, fingertips curling into the fabric there.
This was what was best about staying in to eat rather than going out. Bill loved to take her out, enjoy fancy meals where neither of them had to work to prepare it or clean up afterward, but restaurants didn't have his living room sofa that he'd long since started associating with long, wonderful kisses with the woman currently in his arms. His house was much better than any restaurant.
He kissed her longingly, lovingly, smiling softly into it at the lingering hint of wine on her tongue and the way her hand held onto his shirt so insistently. Everything about that moment was perfect, as was she, and he could have gladly lived in it forever.