The room is soft, unfocused, the candlelight illuminating it to just the comfortable side of darkness. Her glasses have disappeared somewhere and without them the flickering flames seem like miniature shooting stars. She's had just enough wine, though by tomorrow she may say too much. Tomorrow seems a long way off right now.
The beginnings of something slow and jazzy penetrates her pleasant fog just before he slides in beside her on the couch. Breathing deeply of his cologne, she snuggles up against his chest as his arm comes around her shoulder.
For a moment he just holds her there and she concentrates on the feel of his chest rising and falling, the worn cotton of his t-shirt soft against her cheek. But then his hand slides up her arm and glides through her hair, starting at her temple and ending at the nape of her neck. She shivers, then smiles, her eyes drifting closed as he repeats the motion.
"Mmmmm, that's nice." She's not even sure she's said it aloud until he responds.
"You sound like a cat." His fingers continue their pattern, pausing every second or third stroke to trace the side of her ear.
"I feel a bit like one, too."
"A sleepy cat?"
"Getting less sleepy by the moment."
A low chuckle. "Good."
Shifting position, she sits lazily up and cups his face with one hand, running her thumb along his chin, then sliding her fingers into his hair and leaning in to touch her lips to his.
He takes the invitation for what it is and deepens the kiss, his hand sliding down her back to her hip and pulling until she rises and settles onto his lap.
They kiss, just kiss, for a long time, her arms about his shoulders, one of his hands still at her hip, the other in her hair. The wine, the jazz, the lighting, and most of all, the man, have all come together in such a perfect way tonight, she feels like she might float away on a cloud of pleasure. She could kiss him forever and never want for another thing.
But then his hand leaves her hair and slides down to her other hip, pulling her firmly against him, and suddenly all she has is not enough. Groaning from the feel of him beneath her, she twists closer still. She needs more.
Breaking their kiss, he lifts his head, eyes shining partly with amusement, partly with something more basic. "Awake now?"
She doesn't answer, just stands and circles the room, blowing out candles. She can feel his eyes on her the whole way around and even when she extinguishes the last flame and room is completely dark, she knows he's still watching. Her whole body tingles with anticipation as she walks back to stand in front of the couch.
She can barely see him as he stands to meet her, his arms sliding around her waist as he pulls her to him almost roughly, his need on par with her own. Her hands rise to his face, his beard coarse against her palms and they kiss again.
"Jesus, Diane," he mumbles against her mouth, his hands moving down to her ass. Whatever the rest of the sentence was to be falls away in a stream of half-articulated curses as she grinds against him.
She breaks the kiss then and rests her forehead against his. Her vision has adjusted somewhat to the dark and she can see him watching her with half-closed eyes. Reaching behind herself, she slides her hands under his and laces their fingers together. Her lips quirk into a smile. "Ready for bed?" she asks.
