“Same room?”

“It is. Still here forty-three years later, like it’s been waiting for us.”

“I regret that night. I was scared.”

“You weren’t ready. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, that unfinished ache from long ago hit them. Clothes were in the way, yet gone was the selfishness of his youth; at sixty, he craved something intimate. No part was left without a kiss.

When he lifted her hips, they found their rhythm, bodies moving like they knew how to wreck one another.

They came together in a roar, making up for lost time.