He kissed me back. His lips were warm, like the rest of him. Firm, like the rest of him. His chest was as solid as I remembered, his arms just as welcoming and calm. Until the kiss deepened and our mouths opened and his tongue met with mine. Until that calm turned to fire, and fire turned to want, and want turned to need. I needed him. I needed him like I needed breath. Because he was life. Touching him was life to me.
