" In the strange, shadowed lighting of my small room Dutchy takes off his belt and dress shirt and hangs them over the only chair. He stretches out on the bed in his undershirt and trousers, his back against the wall, and I lean against him, feeling his body curve around mine. His warm breath is on my neck, his arm on my waist. I wonder for a moment if he'll kiss me. I want him to.
"How can this be?" he murmurs. "It isn't possible. I've dreamed of it. Have you?"
I don't know what to say. I never dared to imagine that I'd see him again. In my experience, when you lose somebody you care about, they stay gone.
"What's the best thing that happened to you in the past ten years?" I ask.
"Seeing you again,"
Smiling, I push back against his chest. "Besides that"
"Meeting you the first time."
We both laugh. "Besides that."
"Hmm, besides that," he muses, his lips on my shoulder. "Is there anything besides that?" he pulls me close, his hand cupping my hip bone. And though I've never done anything like this before - have barely ever been alone with a man, certainly not a man in his undershirt - I'm not nervous. When he kisses me, my whole body hums. "

― Christina Baker Kline , Orphan Train