"We'll freeze our arses off," Maeve says, laughing, hooking her knees over his shoulders, suddenly aware that she really is quite cold. The water hadn't felt as cold for a little while, but now that she's spoken, she can feel it again, prickling like little needles against her skin.

"But we could probably get warm back in the tent," she offers, eyebrow arched, one heel pressing into the skin between Steve's shoulder blades. "Where there are blankets and towels and a fire. And condoms, I assume."

She's on the pill, but she doesn't like taking risks more than she has to. One abortion is enough for Maeve.