"Not even close," she answered, lifting her hips so she could half-stand for long enough to reconfigure how she was sitting in his lap. It involved a moment of kneeling on the bed, head ducked so she could still kiss him, before her knees were on either side of his hips and her arms were around his neck, fingertips trailing along his shoulders, jaw, then up into his hair.

It was a really nice shirt he had on. She could tell, because she was practically wearing it. It had to go. She leaned back enough to reach down and pull it from where it was tucked in, and started undoing the last of the buttons.