The Doctor was sitting up in bed with his lithe, muscular back against the distressed dark hardwood headboard and bare chest (with wisps of grey hair) on full display; a midnight black thousand thread count silk sheet covering everything below his waist - because he was completely and delightfully naked. The silk sheet was cool against his warm, sweaty skin as he slowly got his breath and two heart rates back to normal after the unexpected but very sexy and welcomed workout.
He watched, utterly mesmerized by her otherworldly qualities, as Clara lifted up her side of the sheet and reached her arm underneath, quickly pulling it back out with what she had been searching for dangling between her fingers- her lacy, blue knickers - and then proceeded to slip them back on by shimmying on the bed in the most distractingly delicious way before glancing around the room for the matching lace trimmed bra which after a minute of scanning every possible spot for it, she quickly realised it was quite obviously nowhere to be found.
Perhaps, the TARDIS still didn't like her? Clara had tried to talk to it, to her, to explain that the Doctor wanted her here... with him, with them. She honestly didn't know what else to do to prove she loved the Doctor just as much as she knows the TARDIS does.
The missing item was likely gone for good... or until the TARDIS decided to return it - she thought, somewhat annoyed at the jealous machine.
Clara caught sight of the Doctor in her peripheral view, she was momentarily stunned and distracted by his bare chest - rising and falling with every slow, deliberate breath he was taking in while staring at her with a twinkle in his blue-ish grey eyes (impossibly young and old at the same time, eyes that had seen countless centuries worth of happiness, sadness and every possible feeling and emotion in between). He was just so unbelievably beautiful... to her.
And the fact that he wanted her to travel with him across time and space, the girl with all of the Lancashire sass one could pack into such a tiny body, she felt like the luckiest woman in the whole Universe. The Doctor had chosen her, of all the potential seven billion people on planet Earth he could've picked. Clara still couldn't believe it, after nearly a year together, traversing the known (and unknown) parts of the Universe.
She sighed, contently, regaining her composure slowly and leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbing the Doctor's dirty white button up dress shirt from the pile of last night's clothes that were discarded willy nilly on floor, in there haste and put it on. Clara turned to face him, again and smiled.
"I love you, Clara Oswald" The Doctor said, taking her hand and pressing his lips, softly, to her left wrist.
She ran the delicate fingers of her right hand through his mane of long, curly silver hair and hoped that he wouldn't point out how fast her pulse was beating against his lips.