“Are we really doing this?”
He cupped her face with his free hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that spilled down her cheek.“We’ve been doing this since we were married.We just let everyone else get in the way.Not anymore.”
Her breath hitched, and her grip loosened.“Then don’t stop.”
The zipper slid down, a whisper against the quiet.Fabric gave way and slid from her shoulders, pooling at her feet.The sight stole his breath.Lace clung to her body, delicate and devastating.
“Beautiful,” he said, reverent.
She flushed, but her chin lifted, bold in her vulnerability.She reached for his shirt, her hands unsteady as she fought with the buttons.He covered her fingers, stilling them for a moment just to feel her touch.“Slow,” he said, though the pounding of his heart urged anything but.“I want to remember every second.”
Her answering smile was watery and fierce.“Then remember this.”
Her palms slid beneath his shirt, over his chest, tracing muscle and scar, leaving heat in their wake.When her fingers brushed the hollow just above his heart, he felt undone, as if she’d reached past bone and flesh to the core of him.
Why had it taken them this long to find their way back to each other?So many years wasted, so many moments stolen-time they could never get back.
Twenty years gone, and love had been the casualty.
Clothes fell away in a blur.The carpet was littered with fabric, but neither cared.They stumbled back toward the bed, mouths fused, laughter breaking out once when he tripped on his slacks, then dissolving again into a kiss that burned away everything but need.
When her bare skin pressed against his, her heat seared him.He felt her ribs rise and fall against his chest, her hands splaying along his back, her legs tangling with his as she pulled him closer.Every nerve lit up.He kissed her harder, slower, softer, desperate to taste every part of her he had been denied for so long.
They found the mattress, and he lowered her onto it with a care that belied the urgency in him.Hovering above her, he braced his weight, staring down at her.The lamplight painted her in gold and shadow, the softness of her mouth, the sheen of tears that hadn’t yet fallen.
“Tell me this is real,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.
Her hands framed his face, her thumbs brushing his jaw.“It’s real.It’s always been real.”
Something broke inside him then.He kissed her again, tasting tears and salt and fire, and when she opened to him, when her body arched into his, he moved with her.Slow, deep, savoring, until she gasped his name and clung to him as though she would never let go.
Every movement was a reclamation.This is ours.This was always ours.
The rhythm grew, steady, then urgent, their bodies remembering each other in ways their minds had tried to forget.Her nails raked gently down his back, her breath stuttered in his ear, her thighs locked around him.
“Tripp,” she whispered, voice breaking.“I never stopped.”
Emotion surged so strongly, his chest ached.“I know,” he groaned, kissing her hard, as if he could pour every regret and every promise into her mouth.
The pace quickened, wild, until she cried out beneath him, her face alight with release, and he followed her, shattering with a force that left him trembling.
He collapsed against her, their hearts pounding in unison, sweat dampening their skin.He pressed his lips to her temple.
“I love you,” he whispered, the words raw and unguarded.
She turned her head, meeting his gaze.Tears streaked her cheeks, but her smile was luminous.“I love you too.”
He kissed her again, slow and tender this time, as if sealing a vow.
It was as if they’d stepped straight out of their wedding night and into this moment, the years between them erased.Nothing had truly changed—the love still surged between them, steady and unstoppable, flowing like a river that had never run dry.
All those years lost, and still, she was his.
The night stretched into something timeless.They moved together again, slower now, discovering and rediscovering.Between kisses, they whispered truths they’d been too afraid to say for years.She told him she had compared every man to him and found them all wanting.He admitted he’d buried himself in work because nothing else could numb the loss.Each confession was a thread pulling them closer, binding them together.
When exhaustion finally claimed them, they fell asleep tangled in hotel sheets, his arm locked around her waist, her breath warm against his chest.
Morning sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, golden and soft.Tripp stirred, the hum of the ocean outside the balcony filtering into his half-dreams.He blinked awake to find Nicole curled against him, her hair spilling across the pillow, her leg draped over his.
