Another day, she might have teased. All these locks, what did he imagine is coming up those stairs?

Today, this morning, Derrica simply puts her face in against his chest. Her half-braided hair is coming loose, streaming down her back. Her bare fingers are very cold, so she refrains from sliding them between folds of blanket to find his skin. He is very warm, and solid and present, and the swoop of relief at finding him so knocks the breath out of her.

"Can you take me to bed?" is soft, even when she tips her face up to him, catching hold of the draping folds of blankets over his chest.