I'm tucked against his side and he's cradling me, one arm wrapped underneath me, curving over my shoulder. Like lovers. I want to touch him, lift my hand to lay it on his chest. But I hesitate. I haven't been given permission. Feel like I should ask, but I don't think he'll mind.

He grasps my hand and presses it flat against his chest, his on top. "Touch me, Lena."

I hear the longing in his voice. Maybe he needs the human contact as much as I do. He always seems so ...