John’s arms were around her shoulders. The heat of his body seemed to draw her like a moth to a flame. Safety. Warmth. Caring. She buried her face against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck, the rest of her curling up next to him. He didn’t move a muscle. She rested against him; she could smell the soap he used. She closed her eyes against the tears, and let the feel of John warm her up.
For the first time in a decade, she remembered what John felt like, what he made her feel. For the first time since seeing him again, ten years melted away, and he was hers again, and not the cold, distant stranger he had become.
His arms settled around her, and she could sense his reluctance. She almost pulled away in embarrassment. But he felt so right. His hands spread flat on her back,
