Page 46 of Restoration
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FIVE WEEKS LATER, Iwake up again with Edmund spooning me from behind.
It’s become a nightly occurrence. We’re always hot when we go to sleep at night—either from the exertion of sex or simply from being in a closed-up space in sweltering, humid weather. So we usually start in our separate positions on the mattress. But at some point during the night, Edmund will roll over to find me, turning me onto my side if I’m not already lying that way and scooting up so that his front presses into my back.
Most of the time I like it. I feel safe and protected and—at the risk of sounding sappy—cherished.
But occasionally it’s way too hot.
This morning is one of those times. I’m sweating when I come to groggy awareness. He’s really holding me tight, and he’s got a half erection pushing into my ass. It’s stuffy in this small corner of our shelter, and one of my shoulders is painfully cramped.
I mumble and shift my body, hoping he’ll roll back to his side.
He doesn’t. With a soft, wordless grumble, he tightens his embrace even more.
Damn, the man is ridiculously snuggly. Shouldn’t he be burning up like me?
I scoot away again but can’t get very far. I’m trapped between his body and the angled corner of the room. Finally, briefly afraid I might suffocate, I give a backward push and clumsily climb over him until I’m out on the patio. I hear more grumbling from him as I leave.
Gasping with relief at the slightly cooler outside air, I stand and breathe deeply for a minute, rolling my shoulders to stretch them out and listening to the steady sound of the waves. Next I go to the bathroom behind my normal tree, braid and tie off my hair with a band made of a thin length of the towel I tore up for period pads, and then walk down the beach to the water.
It’s cooler today than it’s been recently, so I walk for a while, enjoying the gentle lapping of the waves and the squishiness of the wet sand.
Edmund usually wakes up around the same time I do—much earlier than he ever used to—but he was up late last night making repairs to our raft, which got banged up in the choppy water yesterday. I was asleep before he came to bed.
He’s allowed to sleep in as long as he wants.
After a while, the sun has risen enough to heat up my skin, so I wade into the ocean until it’s deep enough for me to swim.
I’m still wearing my tank and panties, which are definitely getting worn out from so much use. I’m not sure what I’ll do when they start falling apart. We do have some spare clothes from the banged-up sailboat we pulled in, but they’re all men’s clothes and too big for me. I can wear them around outside, but they won’t be good to swim in.
I’m so focused on swimming that I don’t notice anything around me until I feel something wrap around my heel. I jerk my head up with a squeal and kick out at whatever touched me.
Edmund roars in laughter at my reaction to him grabbing my foot.
“You scared the crap out of me!” I stabilize myself by treading water and then give him a couple of outraged swats.
“Sorry!” He’s still choking on his amusement, treading water the way I am. “I called out to you a couple of times, and you didn’t hear me.”
“I was swimming! The first thing I was aware of was someone grabbing my foot!”
“Well, who else did you think it was but me?”
“I don’t know! It just scared me. It might have been a big octopus or a snake or something.”
This makes him laugh helplessly again. His hilarity is infectious, but my heart is still racing from the fear. I give him a few more swats, but he grabs my hand on the third one, holding me off him, his face streaming with water and his expression incredibly warm.