"What are you thinking about?"

I hadn't realized that he was awake. And not only awake but conscious that I was awake. And thinking. I inhale through my nose and stretch the arm I'm not laying on toward the ceiling. I arch my back and giggle while I listen to my bones creak and pop. It's honestly been so long since I had sex-vigorous sex at that-that in spite of all my running, I feel old and out of shape. This used to be so much easier.

It feels like late afternoon to me. Looks it, too. Sunlight streams in between the slats in the blinds, sending a striped pattern across the carpet and the foot of the bed. Across the floor, piles of bedding lie where they landed hours before. Except for the sounds of my intermittent yawning and JC's breathing and hearty chuckle at my struggle to wake up, the room is silent.

I roll over, the crisp sheets making a ‘swish' sound as I readjust myself. I know he's there, but I'm still mildly shocked to see JC in my bed. Even more shocked that I have a smile for him and not a grimace or a witty, snappy comeback to something ugly that he just said to me.  He's covered from the waist down by the ecru white top sheet, but it's not covering much. I can see the outline of... everything... as it rests on his body.

He opens his arms, inviting me to lie close to him. I take him up on it, scooting the tiny inch that separates us and mold myself to his body. I lay my cheek on his chest and smile at the sensation of the baby soft hair that covers his chest and arms. And, if I remember correctly...

I lift the sheet to confirm. Yep. And he doesn't seem to be much at rest at the moment.

"Checkin' me out?" I laugh, though silently. "You're not talking to me right now? You're not mad, are you?"

"No," I manage to mumble, my tongue still thick with sleep. I'm exhausted. Satisfied, but exhausted. "I feel like if I start talking I'll say something stupid."

"You? You don't say stupid things."

I roll my head up just so he can see me narrow my eyes at him, brows knitted together in faux anger. "Really, JC? You're choosing now to suck up to me?"

JC laughs. It's a beautiful sound that lands on my ear and embeds itself in my brain. Wiggles its way toward my heart.

"Okay, fine. You've said a lot of stupid things. In fact, I don't think there's anything you could say right now that would top what you've already said. So you may as well say whatever's on your mind."

More than a minute goes by before I get the courage to whisper. "I'm embarrassed. And ashamed. And I feel stupid. So stupid."

I feel his arms around me, tight and growing tighter. His lips brush across my forehead and I already hear the protests rising up in his throat. "Don't," he says. "Don't feel that way. I mean, I don't want you to feel that way. Maybe we were both immature. Maybe we were both fighting feelings, but we couldn't have forced this to happen any sooner than it did."

I lift myself up and lean on an elbow so I can see his face while he's uttering these feel-good phrases. "You don't think I could have just not been a raging bitch that night? That maybe I could have been mad for like a week or a month and then let it go?"

He seems amused at my phrasing-like he doesn't want to admit that I was a raging bitch. But I was.

He shrugs both shoulders and pouts. "Maybe. Maybe if I hadn't given up on getting you back and then tried to screw everything on two legs and act like I was happy because I thought that would make you jealous and want to be back with me. Maybe if I had been honest about Stacey from the start. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Look..."

JC sits up, which forces me to sit up as well. I give up the effort in trying to cover myself. We had sex in umpteen different positions and he's seen every inch of my body today. No sense in trying to hide it now. The sheet falls around my waist and for a moment, he seems mesmerized by my bare breasts.

"Look, what?"

He blinks, staring hard, mouth open. "Huh?"

I snap my fingers and bring his view back to my face.  "You were saying? About how you were immaturely trying to make me jealous by doing the very thing that made me break up with you?"

"Oh. Yeah, that. I just, you know, we're on the same wavelength, here. If you think I'm not sitting here counting how long we would have been married by now, how many kids we would have had, how many happy years we would have had together, you're mistaken. Ever since that night, on my patio, it's all I can think about. How much time we've wasted."

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about that night," I admit. "That kiss. The setting, the timing, our conversation. When you told me the real Stacey story..."

"Is that when you started to feel different about me?"

"Maybe..."

"You kissed me back. That's when I knew you still cared about me."

The warmth from that night washes over me as I reminisce about the first moment our lips touched in so many years, the surprise that gave way to passion after building for so long. And in hindsight, yes, that was the moment I knew I was in trouble.  I also knew he was holding back and if I hadn't run away from him that night, we might have unleashed some lava-hot animal sex right there in front of the fire pit.

I feel the flush deepen the pink hue in my skin. My nipples stand at attention and, by force of habit, I grab the sheet and lift it up to my chest, tucking it underneath my arm pits.

JC frowns, grabs the lip of the sheet and yanks it down. "Stop that. Don't be ashamed of your body. Or what thinking about us is doing to it."

"I'm not," I protest, grabbing the sheet again. "I'm cold."

His grin is evil, maniacal as he leans forward and presses his lips against mine, then pushes gently so I have to lean back. He tosses the sheet away so there is nothing between his body and mine and lies on top of me. I wrap my legs around his torso and my arms around his neck while his tongue invades my mouth and dances with mine. The moans that crawl from deep in his chest rumble through my body. I sigh into his mouth as we part.

"You're not cold, you liar. You're hot. I can feel you. I feel everything."

An eyebrow lifts. "Everything?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"Like?"

"Like... the heat you're giving off from here." He dips to kiss my neck, tiny drops of rain along my skin. "And here," he continues, as he slides down my body, taking first one nipple and then the other into his mouth. My body convulses with the rhythm of his tongue rasping over the angry-pink tips.

"And finally..." He works his way down my belly and over my mound to my core, the most intimate, sensitive part of me. His tongue snakes out, testing and teasing, flicking and poking until I'm writhing and practically screaming. I grab his head and arch my hips and sink into orgasmic bliss for the I've-lost-count-of-how-many-time.

It's not until my throat is dry and my voice is scratchy and my hips have returned to the mattress- and my brain has returned to regular function that JC speaks again.

"Told you, you weren't cold."

I'm laid out across the bed without the energy to move again. "You realize that if that's my punishment for lying, I'll lie all the time now."

"That wasn't your punishment. That was me needing to be right."            

"Right you were."

In a few minutes, I manage to turn myself so I'm lying next to him. One arm is wrapped around me, his hand resting on the rise of my hip. I've never been more comfortable in my life and part of me wishes we didn't ever have to move.

"So..." I start, but then stop. I have so many questions. I don't want to ruin the mood, but I'm lucid enough now that my common sense starts to tiptoe in and drop pertinent questions into my mind. Namely, what the hell is going on?

"So?" He teases, rubbing whatever skin he can manage to cover by roving my hip and ass. "What's up? You never bit your tongue before. You never held back with me when you had nasty things to say. Don't start now that the conversation is sweet. I'm a big boy. I can take whatever you have to say."

I know he's right. Deep down, I do. It's just that I was the reason we broke up the first time. Now that he's here, now that we seem to have reconciled, I don't want to be the reason that something else happens.

"Well, first, is there anything I need to be concerned about? We didn't use condoms. I don't even own condoms."

"What? You don't have a gigantic bag of condoms stashed under your bed?"

I laugh, even though he's picking on me. "Shut up. No, I don't."

"Whatever happened to those? Did you use them all, or...."

"Do you really want to know? Are you really asking if I have used hundreds of condoms on men that aren't you? Are you that big of a boy? Can you take that?"

"Right. Good point. Never mind. Uhm..." I hear the rasp of his palm on beard stubble as he runs a hand down the side of his face. "You don't have anything to be worried about with me. I'm not riddled with disease."

"I mean, I just, I know-"

"Angie." His tone stops me from taking that sentence any further. "I would never, ever try to be with you if I knew I had something. And I wouldn't be here if I hadn't have been recently tested and verified that I'm clean. If you want to see my test results, I'll show you."

"Okay. You don't have to do that. I believe you."

"I know it's hard, but you're going to have to trust that I only have your best interests in mind, at heart right now. We have fought every day for the last... however many years but I wouldn't do that to you."

"I know. We had a crazy, vicious fight and then you waited for me to be done with my run before you left."

"I'm an asshole. But I'm also a gentleman."

This makes me laugh. Because it's true.

"What about you? You're not trying to trap me into becoming a dad, are you? Are we going to be the next Keith and Bridget, who can't talk about anything but their kids' soccer and golf leagues and PTA and how much sleep we don't get?"

By the time he finishes his question, I'm laughing so hard that tears sprout from my eyes. Keith and Bridget are a special couple but we'd never be friends with them if we hadn't known them before they hooked up and then made their relationship official, and then got married and had children. Their lives are about the carpool and afterschool activities and what the kids ate today. On occasion, we can get them to shut up about their Stepford Lives. They're so suburban Orlando and we so... aren't.

At least I didn't think we were. But that thought is annoyingly not far from top of mind. I push it further back. I'm not ready.

"I'm on the pill. Have been since high school. I'm not worried about getting pregnant but if you are-"

"I'm not worried about a thing right now. I'm right where I want to be. If something happens, it happens. I can handle it. Can you?"

I lift my head so I can see his face. It's still kind of unbelievable that he's here. "Yeah," I say, and smile. "I can."

A few hours later I reluctantly follow him to the front door. It's been a blissful afternoon spent with him-my whole life has changed in the last eight hours. We lay in bed until we couldn't stand the hunger anymore, so I got up and made us sandwiches and we watched a movie and made out like teenagers on the couch.  Around 7pm, he sighed and said he ought to be heading home. He had a few things to take care of before Nick's Bachelor party and the Shut-In.

"I hate to leave, but I haven't started packing for the trip, either."

He turns when he reaches the door and opens his arms. I step into them and let him pull me close, then wrap my arms around him and squeeze. I don't want him to go. I'm not used to this feeling but it does spark a memory. I always hated when he had to go home.

"I hate for you to leave, but I know you have stuff to do."

"Yeah." His hands rub my back, up and down. Wide, large, strong hands. I love the feeling. "So I'm... I'm just thinking... "

I pull back so I can see him and grab his hands and hold onto them. "What?"

"I'm thinking that two sets of hands pack faster than one."

Confused, my head naturally tilts to the left. "Huh?"

"Come with me. Grab your stuff, pack a few more things and come home with me. We have to be at the hotel tomorrow anyway to start decorating."

"I-"

"You're already packed, aren't you? I know you. You've probably been packed for a month already."

He right, of course. And I'd packed for the shut in over the weekend. If I needed to walk out the door and fly to St Lucia right now, I could. But...

"Whatever protests you're coming up with right now, put them away. I didn't come over here to get you back today, but I'm not leaving here without you. Come with me or I'll stay here with you, but I've spent my last night without you. Which is it?"

I step back, instantly overwhelmed. "It's just that this is all happening so fast. My head is spinning... I think maybe I just need some time alone."

"Angie, you've had eighteen years. And you haven't dated in forever-not once this year. That's more than enough time alone."

I'm honestly shocked at how quickly he went right back there. I open my mouth to argue, but he's already wincing at his own words and squeezes my hands, lost in his.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm sorry, that was stupid. Okay, I'll give you time. Have you seen the bathroom in my house? The tub is like half the size of a swimming pool.  I'll run you a big ass rose smelling bubble bath and you can sit in the tub and have some time all to yourself."

It's crazy, but I'm tempted. Steal away to JC's house and try to let the past eight hours sink in? What could be so bad about that? It's not something I'd normally do, which makes me want to do it. 

I decide, when I feel like I can't fight those pleading baby blues, to go for it.

"Okay, I'll go. But I need to check my bags and change. And I need to drive my car, so you may as well go ahead of me."

He shakes his head. "Nice try. We can take separate cars but if your car isn't leaving this lot right behind mine, I'm not leaving." He turns me around and pushes me toward my bedroom. "Go check your bags. Do what you have to do. Take your time, don't forget anything. Let me know when you're ready."

While I'm in the bedroom, he settles into the couch again, grabs the remote and starts flipping channels.  I open my bags and check that I have everything I need, since I won't be back home until after the trip. While I'm repacking, I steal glances at him in the living room, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.  I expected that a change in our relationship would make him less aggressive, but he isn't.

He's just aggressive in a different way.

Which, by the way, I like.

Once I've checked and double checked my bags and changed my clothes, I wheel my suitcases out to the living room and grab my purse from the coffee table. JC turns the TV off with a flick of his wrist on the remote and sets it back on the table and stands.

"Got everything? Passport? ID. Phone charger? That last one's important because I'll forget mine."

I dig through my purse to check yet again. In my wallet, my ID is securely tucked away, along with my bank card and credit cards. My passport is there as well. I mentally run down my checklist again, making sure I have all of the clothes, shoes and accessories I need. Satisfied, I nod at JC.

"Let's go, then," he says, grabbing the handle of each suitcase and rolling them toward the door. I wait for him to step out and follow, locking the door behind me. JC lifts each bag as if it weighs nothing at all and carts them down the steps. Once he reaches the landing, he stops next to his car, pulls out his key and presses a button.

The trunk pops open and he drops my suitcases into the yawning dark space.

"Why are you putting those in your car? I'm driving my car, too."

He reaches for me, pulling me close until I am near enough for him to kiss me, except he doesn't. "I'm holding them hostage," he says, then laughs and heads around to the driver's seat. "I've got to stay one step ahead of you. If you don't end up at my house, you don't get your stuff back."

He pops the latch on the door of his Benz and ducks inside. The next moment, the engine roars to life and the headlights come on. The passenger side window slides down and JC leans over the console.  

"Look, I know you want to maintain some kind of control here, but you don't have to take your car. We're going to all the same places this weekend. You could just be crazy, throw caution to the wind and, I don't know, trust me. I'll take care of you."

After a brief moment of hesitation, I open the passenger side door and slide in, sinking back against the genuine leather seats. Seeming pleased with himself, JC raises the window on my side and puts the car in drive, pushing it forward out of the spot he backed into earlier.

"It's not about trust. Just so you know. It's not about control either."

"It's not?" I see him glance at me briefly before his eyes return to the road. "Then what's it about?"

"It's about everything appearing to be normal."

"What do you mean normal?"

"I mean I don't want anyone to know we're back together. Not yet. And if we start showing up to things together, in the same car, looking like we're fucking..."

"People are smart. They will figure it out."

"I know they will, eventually. I just don't want to help them along right now. I want everything, from the outside, to look like it normally looks for us."

"I gotta admit... honey, I don't get it. Our friends will be so happy for us."

"Yeah, that's the problem." I mutter. "They'll gloat. And there will be so many I-told-you-so's. Do you know how many times I told Morgan that this wedding planning thing wouldn't work?"

"About as often as I told Nick. Well, it worked. So?"

"So, I don't...." I sigh. I don't think I can explain it to him so he'll understand.

"You don't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing they were right?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

"So you'd rather settle for looking like the last person to see what'ss completely obvious."

I turn my head to stare at the side of his face. "Like I was the only one ignoring things?"

He's quiet, contemplative. I got him there. I didn't act alone this whole time. We fed off of each other.

"Besides," I add, "Everyone will be so excited about us that it'll take away from the wedding. I want Morgan to have the wedding that she wants. We didn't spend all this time and money and hard work for no one to notice it. I don't want to upstage them.  You know what I mean?"

He nods, finally. Regretfully, I can tell. "I guess. But we have to find a way to be together. I meant what I said back at your place. I have no problem with laying low for a while, but I'm over being without you. I hope you feel the same."

I reach across the console and rub his thigh. His hand leaves the gearshift and covers mine, his fingers intertwining with and squeezing mine. "I do. And I understand. But know that I'm not going anywhere, JC. I'm right here."

"I just want to enjoy every second of having my girl back with me." He lifts the jumble of fingers to his lips and drops a light kiss to the back of my hand. "I sound possessive, I know.  I don't mean to. I just have so much time to make up for. I don't want to waste a single second."

 My heart warms at the sound of that, that he intends to make up for the time we've lost. I have some making up to do myself.

***

"When do I get my big ass rose scented bubble bath you promised?"

I'm sitting at the head of JC's king sized bed, which is a perfect spot to survey the entire room. I've never been in his bedroom before. He's lived in this house on Lake Conway for about five years. At first I refused to come, not wanting to stare at the spot where we'd shared so many intimate moments. I was dragged by Morgan one day and over time, I just got used to ignoring the other side of the lake.

The townhouse has two bedrooms but JC's room is obviously the master suite. A set of double doors open to reveal a fireplace on one wall and the biggest four poster walnut bed I've ever seen on another.  There is a set of glass sliding doors that lead to a balcony that overlooks the patio and fire pit downstairs. Covering the glass doors are black sheer curtains that match most of the décor in the room. Black and grey with splashes of red and blue here and there from the comforter to the art on the walls. It's classy without being overbearingly masculine. I find myself thinking that I could stand to live there with minimal changes.

"When we're done packing. Are you folding or yammering?"

He points toward the leaning tower of T-shirts stacked next to me. Spread open across the bed is an enormous suitcase that looks like it could hold his entire wardrobe. "How many shirts do you have there?"

I count them quickly and tell him, "Ten. But I don't think you need that many. It's only seven days."

"I like options. What if it rains? I might need something long sleeved."

"So switch out a couple long sleeved with a couple of t-shirts."

"Did you not hear me? I like options."

He places a few long-sleeved shirts into the suitcase and motions for me to put the stack of t-shirts in beside them. Next, he drops in five pairs of jeans that all look exactly the same and a pile of shoes, including a few pairs of stark white sneakers. I laugh at them.

"What? What's funny?"

"Those shoes remind me of seventh grade."

"Oh yeah?"

I nod. "You said I had nice boobs."

"No, you said you had nice boobs. I agreed with you."

"Then you said I looked hot. And when I laughed you said you meant it."

JC is turning red and it's the cutest thing ever. He doesn't like being reminded of how soft-hearted he is. He'd rather people think he's asshole, but I know the truth. Despite everything, I always have.

He shrugs, headed back to his closet. "I liked you, okay? We have already established that. Do you think I need anything formal except for my tux?"

"I brought a couple of nice dresses. Not formal but dressy. To wear to dinner and stuff."

"Okay." He digs through his closet and pulls out a few button down shirts, all fresh from the dry cleaners and color coordinated. "Ties?"

I shake my head. "No ties."

"Great." He folds the shirts and lays them into the suitcase, then begins to layer the rest of the things he's packed and staged across the bed-swim trunks, underwear, socks. "I just need to pack my bathroom stuff and a couple of things in a bag for tomorrow night. Let's run your bath now."

Ten minutes later I am nearly submerged in a steamy bubble bath. He wasn't kidding-his garden tub is huge. And deep. I feel like I have to sit up straight to keep from drowning.

"Hey, JC?" I call out to him. He's in the bedroom, dropping things into a duffel bag.  "So why do you have bubble bath? That smells like flowers? Are you big into smelling like a rose?"

He steps into the bathroom with a smirk. "Do you really want to know the answer to that? Or do you just want to enjoy the proceeds?"

I grin. "Never mind."

"You sure? I can tell you. See, there was this girl that---"

"Oh my Gahhh..." I relax a little and let my head sink below the water line. Seconds later I sit up straight again and laugh, pushing hair and bubbles out of my eyes. He's moved to one of the steps that lead up the side of the tub.  

And he's smiling. "So you don't want to know, then?"

"No. I'll just uh, enjoy the proceeds. This is going to take some getting used to."

"I know. For me too."

"This is an awfully big tub."

His eyes roll from one end of the tub to the other, landing on me, all wrapped up in foamy bubbles. "It is. I have stories about that, too. This one time...."

"Joshua Chasez!"

"What? I'm just telling this story about this one time, this girl I dated, she--" He doesn't finish his sentence because I've cupped my hands and sent  wave of water towards him. He sputters then keels backward and lands on his ass.

Then laughs.  "I see what has to happen, here."

He stands, then begins peeling off his soaking wet clothes and leaves them on the floor where he drops them. I'm giggling and just about to apologize for getting him wet, when he takes a flying leap into the tub, flooding the bathroom floor and disturbing my sense of balance. I go under again, but I'm pulled back up against JC's chest and perched on his lap.

I don't try very hard to resist being held there. "Hey! You promised me time."

"And then you got me wet, so I guess you get to share your bath. Serves you right."

"Again, if this is my punishment..."

"Not a punishment. Just natural consequences."

I wiggle against him, teasing. He growls in my ear and his hips arch upward, pressing himself into me. He's already pulsing and my gyrations aren't doing much to help. On the other hand, they're not hurting much either.

 "Speaking of natural consequences."

An appreciative groan rumbles through his chest. His hands climb my body and settle for cupping my breasts, his thumbs flicking my rock hard nipples, sending bolts of lightning through me so strong they curl my toes.  His lips sweep across my shoulder in broad strokes, nipping here and there with a gentle bite as he works his way up the side of my neck.

I'm lightheaded, from the heat or from him-either way, I'm in heaven and I never want to vacate.

My head lolls back against his shoulder, exposing more of my neck for him. "Mmmmmm..." I moan as his lips travel up my neck to my ear.  My sounds of pleasure bouncing off the tiles amuses me, so I make more noise.

"I missed you so much," he whispers. "I don't think I realized how much until you were with me again."

"I missed you too," I mumble, lost in the steam and the hypnotic way he caresses and massages me, gentle little circles everywhere, all over.

"Did you really? Or are you just saying that?"

My burst of laughter echoes up into the ten foot ceiling. "Okay, not the whole time. But that week when you weren't talking to me and it bugged me that you weren't talking to me.... Yeah."

"I had some thinking to do. I didn't want you interfere with my thoughts. Like, influence me. You know?"

"That's what I figured."

"And I had to plan out what I wanted to say. And when. And try to decide if you would be receptive or laugh at me or throw something at me."

"Throw something?" I repeat, while laughing.  "What was the spread on that?"

"Uhm, I had one hundred percent on you laughing at me. And you did."

"I didn't laugh at you.  I mean I wasn't laughing at you. I didn't know what to say. All of that after our fight in the park, and then you didn't talk to me for a week. I pretty much figured we wouldn't speak again."

"I had to catch you off guard. And I had to come to you in a way that I hadn't come to you before, so you'd know I was serious. And I had to stop being a jerk."

"For just a minute."

"For just a minute," he agrees. I feel him smiling as he rests his head against mine. "I wanted you back and it wasn't going to happen with me acting like that. I had to get my shit together."

"Mmmhmmm."

I sit up and then swivel around so I'm straddling him and scoot up, all the way up until I feel him trapped between our warm bodies. The bubbles have begun to melt away, leaving a slick feel to the water and giving me an unobstructed view of what he looks like with my belly pressed up against him. I begin to rub his chest, playing in the layer of hair there. 

"So, your shit is together, then?"

His eyes are half closed and his mouth is half open. Beads of moisture sprout across his forehead and seep into deep, soft waves of hair. I feel his arms move around me, and then each hand cup a cheek of my ass. His tongue snakes out of his mouth to lick his bottom lip.

"I don't know," he says, squeezing the generous portions in his hands. "You tell me."

He lifts me up a few inches and guides himself to me, then gently directs me to sit. My head rocks back and I groan loudly as he fills me.  I fight to keep my eyes open and locked on his as I slowly lift and lower, then speed up as my body adjusts to him. In a few strokes I am completely full, sinking deep onto him, rising until I am just short of pulling off, then grinding down on him again. I contract around him, milking him while I ride him. He holds onto me for dear life, pushing and pulling, controlling my rhythm.

"God... you feel so good." His eyelids have drooped until he can no longer keep them open. Sounds and phrases fall out of his mouth at whim. "Unh... fuck, Angie. Don't stop. Please don't stop, I'm gonna come." I whimper and wail into his shoulder as he grunts and moans.  

"Shit...." His breath comes in hisses as he is wracked with a series of convulsions but doesn't loosen his iron grasp on my hips. His eyes pop open and his gaze locks on mine. He is intense, almost fiercely staring at me. "Tell me," he says, his voice gruff with the strain of holding back. "Tell me how this feels to you."

I wrap my arms around him and lean closely so I can say the words into his ear. I don't want him to miss a single syllable.

"You feel so good inside me. You fit me like you always did. You make me crave your body, your mouth. You make me want more. Ever since that night you kissed me, I can't think of anything but you. I can't think of anyone else but you inside me. When I fucked my vibrator? I was really fucking you. So fuck me like you mean it and make me come."

"Unnnfff...fuck!" His breathing speed up until he's just huffing quick puffs of air. His skin is a deep crimson and his face holds the marks of deep concentration.

His hips lift and rock against mine, wet skin loudly slapping skin, causing waves of water to splash over the edge of the tub. The sound of which, when coupled with our cries at the top of our lungs, creates a moment of pure chaos in JC's bathroom.  A overbearing pressure builds in the pit of my belly-- an impending pleasure that is impossible to keep at bay.

When it finally washes over me, my entire body stiffens and tips backwards. If JC hadn't been paying attention and wrapped an arm around me to catch me, I'd have been a goner, because I could just barely breathe, let alone think about trying not to drown.

I'm still involuntarily convulsing when JC pulls out and moves me around so I am sitting sideways on his lap. He wraps both arms around me and cradles my head against his chest. I listen to his heaving breaths and galloping heartbeat until both slow to a regular pace.

For a long span of time, we sit and let everything settle.  I tip my head up so our lips meet.

"Kiss me."

I'm expecting a light, sweet kiss, but his lips linger and his mouth opens and the kiss deepens into something so slow and romantic, heady and erotic... I'm not sure I'll ever recover.

I feel-and acknowledge-the shift between us. A return to the past to bring everything forward. From here, we craft our future.

Our future? I'm surprised I can even think of those words in relation to him. I am falling in love with him. Again. Never in an infinite number of years did I picture myself here... but now that I am, I can't imagine myself anywhere else.

When our lips finally part, I pull back and give him a smile. "So, I think the verdict is in."

An eyebrow lifts. "Do I want to hear this?"

I nod. "Mmmhmm. Your shit. I think you've got it together."