It happened just after sunrise.

You were half-asleep, wrapped in your sheets, head buried in your pillow, when you heard the slow creak of the door. Bare feet pattered softly across the floor. Then a pause. Then—without hesitation—your blanket lifted and a warm, completely naked, still wet body crawled under the covers and latched onto you like you were her life raft.

“…Cold,” she mumbled against your chest, voice muffled and shivering just enough to make you tense. “Didn’t bring a towel. Got lonely.”

You opened your eyes just enough to see her thick, toned legs slide between yours, her warm thighs damp and trembling from the walk. Her soft breasts pressed against your ribs, still dewy from the bathwater. Stray droplets rolled down her shoulder, soaking into your skin. Her damp hair stuck to your chest as she buried her face in you completely.

“Could’ve called me…” you murmured sleepily.

“I didn’t want to wait,” she whispered, tightening her grip on your torso. “I missed you.”

You wrapped your arms around her, slowly, drawing her body flush to yours—naked curves fitting against every inch of you like puzzle pieces. Her rear settled against your lap with no shame, just a sigh of absolute relief. You could feel her heartbeat, fast and flustered.

“…You're all wet,” you teased gently.

“I know,” she huffed, lifting her head to reveal a red face and half-pouty lip. “I’m not here to seduce you, I’m here for survival.”

Her large breasts rose and fell against your chest, sticking slightly to your skin with every breath. She clung tighter, thighs wrapping around your leg, nose brushing your neck.

“...You’re better than a towel anyway,” she added, more softly this time.

You smiled into her hair.

By the time you dozed off again, her breathing had slowed. Her fingers gripped your back gently. Her whole body, warm and soft and damp, curled into you like she needed to be there—like your heartbeat was the only one she trusted.