Grace wouldn't move from here for anything, not until he wants to, maybe not even then. It's still early enough she doesn't have any qualms about staying in bed, languid beneath him, content enough she might as well be purring. Before this and him, she can't recall having had the urge to say those words to any of the men she's known, not in any serious way. She's put more emotion into the recitation of lines than her love life. Now, though, she thinks she gets it, the pleasure of saying it as well as hearing it. It slips out so easily once said, and the way he says her name is the second-best thing she's ever heard. Hands sliding down over his back, she arches up against him, a leg hiking up against his side to keep him close. Just the way he kisses her feels like hearing it all over again.