Her toes curl when their tongues touch. The kiss is warm, hungry, but nothing too demanding--just this side of enough. Especially with the way he strokes her cheek, his touch so light and yet so lingering. The thump of her heart speeds up to a quick, not quite steady patter, her arms tightening around him a little.

And then a breath, as the kiss ends, and then Luke's brilliant smile.

"Yeah." She grins back, a giggle bubbling in her throat at the sight of his face. He looks like someone could run him over with a truck, and he wouldn't notice until he was under the wheels. It only makes her want to pull him right back down to her. (And I could. Looking at him, she has the sensation that she could ask him to do just about anything at that moment, though she has no intention of testing that theory.)

But standing here isn't ideal, not when they have an entire empty, furnished house at their disposal. Dragging him upstairs is full of implications she's pretty sure she's not ready to make, but this room seems like fair game. Her hands slide over him--along the shivery skin of his neck, down over his collarbone--as she nods over toward the couch. Letting him go means ignoring every nerve in her body (God, it's really been a while since anyone made her feel this way, and she doesn't want to give it up), but it's not for long. She crosses the room, so she can flop down on the sofa cushions, and reaches a hand out to him. Come here.