Healing

He was only vaguely aware of the creaking of the foldaway sofa bed that had become his bed in recent weeks. He slept soundly.

It's been a few weeks since he found her at the hotel. He'd spend the days with her, taking her out, supporting her recovery. Her wounds had healed and the bruises were all but gone. He'd spend late afternoons with her at the park, reading her stories keeping her mind busy. She seemed to be recovering well. Despite that, he found himself realizing that she was not the same person he'd come to love. Since the incident, she'd been staying with him, but although she wasn't avoiding him, she was somewhat distant. He knew that it was probably what she'd been through, but the unrequited longing and missing togetherness began to take its toll on him.

He tossed to his side, trying to forget the thought. He remembered all that he missed; the warm hugs, the kisses. Tender lips on his fingers, smooth soft skin.

He began to drift into sleep, not hearing the click of the door softly closing.
He had drifted into a dream that he felt her climb behind him, her warm body against his. Gentle, soft breathing in his ear, the breath warm. He stirred as he felt her arm wrap around him, soft hands stroking his face and move down his arms.
It wasn't till morning that he awoke in her arms. It wasn't a dream after all.