It’s different tonight. You’re both present in the moment, both attentive. There’s no checking of phones or work distractions, there’s just the two of you sharing a meal. He eats healthier these days and so do you. You laugh about that, because both your cupboards used to be filled with energy drinks and pop tarts. The lives you lived were fast paced, there was no slowing down for anything, not even each other.

When he helps you into your coat at the end of the night, the scent of his aftershave floods your senses. Something woodsy and bold, it clings to his skin as his palms come to rest on your shoulders squeezing just once.

He kisses you under the lights on the boulevard, his lips brushing over yours with a tenderness you haven’t known in years. There hasn’t been a man since Matt and there hasn’t been a woman since you. You tell each other that when he takes you to bed.

It’s nothing like the way it used to be. The two of you, you used to fuck, fast and hard, it was all you had time for but tonight it’s slow, unhurried. You take your time exploring one another. Touching, teasing, stroking until the smiles and laughter turn into low moans and desperate pleas. He uses his mouth the first time, your fingers tangled in his salt and pepper curls as he ravishes you. That sound you make when you come, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

He looks into your eyes as he enters you, his palm clasping your cheek as he guides your mouth back to his. He sighs at the sensation because being with you like this, it's like coming home. You climax together this time and Matt drinks down your pleasure like it’s the finest whiskey, heated, decadent on his tongue.

He holds you close in the aftermath, your limbs tangled with his, sheets draped over your hips. Your face is buried in the curve of his throat, lips ghosting over that sensitive little spot just underneath the curve of his jaw. Your fingertips trail over the scar on his chest, the one from the surgery that saved his life.

“I almost lost you and I didn’t even know it.” You whisper against his skin.

He tilts his head towards you, his lips brushing over your forehead as his thumb traces over the slender ridge on the underside of your right breast. You’d had a biopsy two years, it had turned out to be something. They’d caught it early but you’d had to make some changes.

“I don’t want to waste any more time Cleo.” He finds himself saying. “Whatever I have left, I want to spend it with you.”

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