Page 36 of Sanctuary

Sure, maybe it’s not at all personal. Maybe it’s about me possessing a female body. I don’t actually know anything about his sex history, but I think I would have heard if he was in the habit of sleeping around in his travels. After all, people talk about that kind of thing—after Impact as much as they did before it.

It’s entirely possible—even likely?—that he hasn’t had sex since his wife died almost six years ago.

A physical reaction doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

But I’m still a little bit excited, the way I used to anticipate a new episode of a TV show I liked.

As if I can’t wait to see what happens next.

The sun has indeed come out after the storm, but the wind is still gusting fiercely, and the temperature is below freezing. There’s absolutely no chance of our getting out of here today.

My leg still hurts like hell, but it’s better than it was yesterday. I can stand up, putting a little bit of weight on the bad leg. I can limp, although it’s painful.

The improvement is a relief. It means I haven’t been so seriously injured that I won’t recover.

We spend the day pleasantly, taking care of necessities, preparing our meager meals, and lying around chatting or dozing.

It’s not a bad day. At all.

When the sun goes down and it gets colder, Aidan adds his blanket to mine and gets under the covers with me like he did the night before.

I don’t question it. I definitely don’t complain.

I like it—and not just for the warmth.

I thought maybe he’d avoid it after getting turned on this morning, but he doesn’t. And when I wake up in the middle of the night to realize that he’s hard again, pressing his erection against my butt, I’m not upset.

I’m excited again. Even more than in the morning. My body actually responds, my pussy softening. Clenching—like it instinctively wants to pull him inside.

All this happens as I’m half-asleep. I don’t wake up entirely until Aidan pulls away and gets up. He must assume I’m still sleeping because he doesn’t say a word. Just walks to the back room.

He must masturbate there again because his body is warm and relaxed as he gets back in bed with me and pulls my body against his, spooning me like he was before.

I think about saying something light and funny, but I don’t. I nestle back against him and go to sleep again.

On the third day, my leg is even better. I can put more weight on it. Stand up without much pain. Walking is still difficult, but it’s not impossible.

The temperature is warmer but not enough for much melting, and the wind is still really bad. Aidan and I agree in the morning that there’s still no chance of getting out of this church today.

We’re still stranded, and I don’t even mind that fact too much.

The morning passes in much the same way as the previous ones. We’re still all right on food for a few more days, but after that we’ll be getting hungry. At midday, I’m worried that I’m starting to smell so I ask if Aidan would mind bringing some snow inside in a basin and letting it melt so I can clean myself up without using our drinking water.

He agrees it’s a good idea, although he asks if it’s an indirect message that he’s the one who stinks.

He is indeed smelling rather strong, but it hasn’t been bothering me much.

It’s funny the way you get used to things. Body odor would have stood out unpleasantly in the old world, but now it’s simply a fact of existence. Everyone smells more or less, unless they’ve just had a bath with soap. The nose adapts. And it’s only noteworthy if someone smells a lot more strongly than everyone else.

I’m used to Aidan’s scent now. It’s familiar. Natural. Sometimes makes my belly clench with a weird kind of possessiveness.

I’ve never felt that way about a man before. Not once in my life.

We take our makeshift baths and get dressed. I brush out my hair.

As I’m brushing, Aidan wanders the perimeter of the church, maybe checking things out or maybe simply stretching his legs. He’s out there for longer than I expect, so I eventually set the brush down and limp over to the outside door so I can stick my head out and look.

He’s in sight, standing several feet away, staring out toward the snow-covered mountains. He’s cleared a path by trudging through it several times, packing down the snow.

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