The day had been long and restless, but here, in the quiet of your room, everything softened. Lorenzo's shirt had ridden up as he sprawled, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other resting comfortably against your side.

You’d been curled against him for the better part of an hour, your head on his chest, lulled by the steady beat of his heart. Neither of you had said much. The quiet wasn’t heavy... it was the kind of easy silence that only exists between two people who feel safe with each other.

Lorenzo tilted his head after a while, catching you looking at him with that soft expression you always wore when your guard dropped. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, almost shy, your fingers brushing absent circles against his stomach. “Just… you.”

As your fingers wandered, your gaze drifted downward. The fabric of his shirt had shifted higher, exposing the sharp lines of his abdomen. The defined cut of his hips, tapering down into that sculpted V, took your breath away for a moment.

Without overthinking it, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against the edge of that line.

Lorenzo inhaled sharply in surprise, before a slow smile spread across his face. He tipped his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes as if surrendering to the simple intimacy of it.

“You know that drives me crazy,” he said, his voice rough.

“That’s the idea,” you whispered, pressing another kiss there, lingering longer this time.

His hand slid into your hair, not pulling, not guiding... just resting, his fingers tangling gently like he needed the anchor. "You could kiss me again, you know? Maybe a bit... lower."