He stripped away my clothes with reverent hands, like he was unwrapping a gift he'd thought he'd lost. When I was naked before him, he just stared for a moment.
"You're so f*****g beautiful," he breathed.
I reached for his shirt, wanting skin against skin. "Your turn."
He helped me undress him, our movements urgent but not rushed. This felt different than our previous times together. More meaningful. Like we were choosing each other all over again.
When we were both naked, he pulled me close and just held me for a moment. Skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.
"I don't want to fight anymore," I whispered.
"Neither do I."
His mouth found mine again, and this time the kiss was slow and thorough. Like he was trying to apologize with his tongue, trying to show me how much he'd missed me.
