“Well it wouldn’t be fun if I just gave you whatever you want.” Tony laughed kissing her back. “But thanks for noticing all my sexy. I’ve been going to the gym when I’m not too busy taking care of you,” he teased.
Summer simulated extreme shock. “Taking /care/ of me? I thought you enjoyed my presence!” She scrambled off the couch. throwing Tony a disdainful look. “And here I was certain I had been the one to ask you, because I was a strong, independent woman.” She made to go for the door, watching Tony out of the corner of her eye.
Tony noticed that Summer was watching him and rolled his eyes. “You’re no Meryl Streep.” Tony laughed, not bothering to get up from the couch. “But if you insist on going I guess I’ll just have to have a nice evening on the couch all by myself. Maybe I’ll finally get to watch all the episodes of hoarders I’ve been saving.” He grinned flipping on the TV.
Sighing, she flung herself back on the couch next to him. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” One hand wandered up under his shirt, though her gaze was elsewhere. Part of her mind was on the feel of his skin under her fingertips, the muscles underneath, the softness, the motion of his breathing; the other part was, inevitably, on the events of the day, prying at her thoughts, their motivations, the sinking knowledge of never being the right thing.
“You should drop your Shakespeare porn class and take an acting workshop.” Tony laughed as she sat back down. “You know, it’s weird, I don’t even have anything noteworthy in my shirt but your hand spends a hell of a lot of time inside of it.” He smirked.
“The noteworthy thing inside your shirt is you.” Summer giggled softly. She scraped her fingernails lightly over his skin, ignoring the tv and thinking about Tony instead. The way he tasted, the depth of his eyes, his smile. Subtle heat thrilled down her nerves, and she snuggled against his shoulder, purring under her breath and hand wandering farther over his skin. “It would be better if there was no shirt, though.”