[V, having slipped from their -- his? -- bed only to exchange it for a perch on an antique love seat with claw feet and a stuffy, floral print upholstery, lets his morning paper droop into his lap, head turning slightly in Ada's direction as her arms wrap him up close.
Her warmth is welcome, comfortable and a little too arresting, and he reaches up to lay his palm across the back of hers in wordless appreciation for the gesture, appreciation for the familiarity of her weight against his back. Without meaning to, he breathes in her nearness and exhales his cares.]
I'm glad you liked it, [is his bare whisper, his palm scuffing across the back of her hand twice before long fingers curl inward to clasp her hand against his chest, wheedle his thumb in to stroke her palm. He tips back against her, just enough to be felt.]
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Her warmth is welcome, comfortable and a little too arresting, and he reaches up to lay his palm across the back of hers in wordless appreciation for the gesture, appreciation for the familiarity of her weight against his back. Without meaning to, he breathes in her nearness and exhales his cares.]
I'm glad you liked it, [is his bare whisper, his palm scuffing across the back of her hand twice before long fingers curl inward to clasp her hand against his chest, wheedle his thumb in to stroke her palm. He tips back against her, just enough to be felt.]