I Am a Hopeless Romantic

It was late at night when she came into the room to find him. All the lights were off and he was already half asleep on the couch. The television was still on but the volume was low.
Its faint glow barely illuminated the room. She was wearing one of his undershirts with his pajama bottoms.
The shirt still had his scent from earlier in the day. She pulled the collar up to her nose and inhaled softly, but deeply. She smiled her approval.
She walked over to him, his heavy eyelids half open and straddled him gently. Wrapping her hips and legs around his body, she swayed and pressed her bottom into his now swelling crotch. She embraced him with her left hand, running it through his thick brown hair while rubbing his stomach with her right.
"Did you enjoy dinner?", she asked.
He nodded. "Yes, it was very good. Thank you."
She lazily turned her head to look at the television. She squinted, not recognizing what was on the screen.
"Are you watching this?"
He shook his head. "No, it's nothing."
She took the remote, switched off the t.v., and slowly leaned toward him.
In doing so, she touched her forehead to his. Her dark brown hair intermingled with his, fell on his cheeks, tickling his face.
"Besides," he said. "I'd rather be doing nothing with you than doing anything in the world with anybody else on the planet."
She nodded silently as he used one of his hands to move her hair over their eyes. The action made the dark room even darker and shut out the rest of the world to them.
Underneath that blanket of hair, she smiled a smile about nothing.