I guess that would have been a yes, he thought, smiling against Rose's lips. He was tempted to make some wry comment, but years of study had given him a deep understanding of Rose. The way her fingers gripped him, the subtle grinding against him, even the smell in the air made verbal communication crude and inutile compared to what their bodies were already telling each other.
Rose had been, perhaps, less familiar with Gar's body the night before, and Gar had been distracted somewhat by the new scars and marks that her lifetime had inflicted upon her. But now, they moved without thinking, familiarity and passion and love blending into their movements. Gar's fingers tangled in Rose's hair, Rose's fingernails bit deep into Gar's shoulder.
They would probably find excuses to stay in bed all day, taking advantage of a second chance long overdue. But right now, there was no "all day." There was no later. There was only Gar and Rose and the groaning protest of a mattress used to only one body in it.