you are my life, my love, my only
"Really?" He leans back against the couch, fingers gripping her waist.
"Yes, really." She cocks an eyebrow at him. "Were you expecting a different answer?"
He hesitates, wonders how honest he can be. She smiles at him, coy and happy, and his heart jumps, slamming merrily into his ribs. "Well, yeah," he confesses, relieved to see her grin only grown in response to his honestly. "I was at least expecting to have to convince you. I had a five point plan."
"A five point plan to convince me to move in with you?"
"Yes."
Serena laughs and twists in his lap until she's straddling him, her knees pressing hard against his hips, ass resting low on his tighs. "Tell me."
"I'd planned to start with the basics, appeal to your logic." He skates his hands over her tighs, dipping under the hem of her shorts, enjoying the way her muscles flex under his touch. "You know, pointing out that you practically almost live here already, that you have more clothes in the closet than I do. Mention how you haven't been to your Penthouse for more than thirty minutes at a time in over a month."
"All true," she hums, toying with the collar of his shirt, the pads of her fingers cool and soft against his neck. "And if logic failed?"
"Point two. Convenience. The Loft is in Brooklyn which happens to be the best borough in the city. Plus, you wouldn't have to go that far out of your way just because none of the ten pairs of boots you have here happen to be the ones you want to wear on a random Tuesday Morning."
"You like those zip up black ones just as much as I do, Dan," she purrs, sliding further down into the cradle of his lap. Her hands move to the center of his chest, fingers deftly flicking open the buttons of his shirt. "Three?"
"Begging." He scoffs, her breath hot against his throat, nose brushing over the line of his jaw. "I'm not above it. Though it would have been very manly begging, I assure you."
"Mmm-hmm." Her lips feather over his cheek, tracing a damp path toward his left er, as she pushes his shirt down around his elbows, hands trailing fire over his chest. "And when that inevitably failed?"
"Wine," he chokes, cupping her ass and tugging her closer. Her hips roll into him when he slips his fingers into the waist of her shorts, drawing random designs across the small of her back.
"Isn't that just a subcategory of the begging?"
"Not whine. Wine. I got a bottle of your favorite yesterday." Dan groans when her nails scape over his stomach, tracing the line where his belt presses into his flesh. "It's in the kitchen."
"Plying me with alcohol merits an entire point of your plan?"
"It dovetails into five," he explains breathlessly, chasing her smiling mouth. She eludes him easily, her lips skimming over his briefly before she dips down to nip at his adam's apple.
"And what is five?"
"Sex."
Her chest bounces off his as she laughs, the tips of her hair dncing over his skin. Dan catches her mouth, swallowing her surprised squeak as he twists to the side, pinning her body underneath his on the couch. A soft moan vibrates in her chest when his fingers crest the arc of her ribs, thumbs scaping under the band of her bra. Her legs unfod and then curl around his waist, pulling him down into the welcoming give of her hips.
"Sex, Dan? Really?"
"You've readily agreed to more than a few dubious ideas immediately following orgasms, Serena." He bites at her bottom lip, dips his tongue into the dents left by his teeth. "Just playing the odds."
"Five points, culminating in sex, just to get me to move in?" Her eyes glitter as he stares down at her, nodding his head earnestly.
"You know me. I'm a planner."
Serena laughs and pulls him down for a scorching kiss, her body warm and arching under his. "In that case," she husks, her fingers reaching for the buckle under his belt, "I can't wait to see how many points are in your plan when you decide to propose."
