Sherry's apartment was wrapped in a soft, intimate quiet, broken only by the low, forgotten hum of the TV flickering with some show neither of us was watching. We were stretched out on the couch, her back warm against my chest, my arms loosely wrapped around her waist. The weight of the day had finally begun to loosen its grip.
I pressed a small, distracted kiss to the side of her neck, lingering on the soft skin just below her ear.
She shifted with a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating against me. "Are you even watching this?"
"Not even a little," I admitted, my thumb tracing slow, lazy circles over the curve of her hip. "I'm completely distracted."
