She couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he'd gotten so good with modern day undergarments, but she was certainly appreciative that he had. Made getting out of clothing quickly that much easier. The sound of contentment she made was low and deep in the back of her throat and she eased out of the flimsy fabric, reveling in the brush of now bare skin against his. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, the planes of his abdomen, and dipped to trace the waistband of his denims.
"I'm not opposed to the kitchen," she began, "though I think we'd both agree the bed's a bit more comfortable." Her words were meant to be teasing, but her voice was low and husky. She pulled back, her eyes meeting his. Moments like this, they were what she lived for. Not necessarily the act itself, though she'd found she quite enjoyed that as well. But the closeness, the way he knew her better than anyone. The way he knew exactly the way she liked to be touched and she loved that more than anything. In return, she reached for the button of his jeans, sliding it out of its hole and making more room for exploratory fingers.