It nearly knocks me over, the force of it, his hands desperate and groping, but I reach for him, fingers slipping through his hair. Holding on. Anchoring myself to him.

"Mike," I sob, my knees threatening to buckle, and all at once it's like the dam's broken and there's no stopping it now. Tugging at his shirt, I say, "Fuck, Mike. Get up." But for all I care, we can do this on the floor. Wherever. We need each other. The how and the where of it are unimportant details.