I let it swallow me up, let myself sink down into it, and it comes on slow and steady and I'm almost positive that it's different than anything else I've ever felt. Which is crazy, maybe, but I'm not used to taking my time with this. Even with him, it always ends up feeling like we're in a rush. Like we don't quite trust we'll have time for anything more.

"Mike," I say with a choked sob, clinging to him wherever I can reach, my other hand grasping at the sheets tangled under us.