The bliss is all his doing, she'd maintain, but he might be able to convince her to try and take a more objective view. Maybe. If they don't get distracted from it.

'Bliss' isn't a name she'd choose for herself. But for this moment, for the picture she's painting for him: perfect. This is bliss. The whispers, the kisses, the approval... getting to wrap themselves up in this world they're making for themselves and simply enjoy it. Bliss.

Admiration from him is always welcome, even though it still makes her blush. Once her sarong is folded and set aside she reaches out to run a hand down his chest. "That's me, the practical one. I kept you, after all, which is an extremely practical choice." Her hand drifts lower, but moves to slide into his before it gets too distracting.

"Lead the way, honey."