Page 29 of Protected

I don’t wash Trisha’s laundry this week.

When I finish hanging the clothes to dry, it’s still earlyafternoon. After wandering aimlessly for a few minutes, I decide to wash my hair, mostly to fill up more time. Burgundy is on duty and I’m not comfortable asking anyone else to keep watch while I’m naked, so I don’t go to the creek. Instead, I use water from a rain barrel behind one of the outbuildings.

I take off my shirt, leaving on my jeans and sports bra, and then dunk my head to get my hair wet enough to work up a good lather with the shampoo.

After rinsing it off, I put on some conditioner and let it set for a few minutes.

I went so long without regularly washing my hair that, now that I can, it’s gotten drier than it’s ever been in my life.

I’d still rather have it clean than dirty though.

It’s after I’ve rinsed off the conditioner and am brushing out my wet hair—it’s so long now it almost reaches my waist—that I become aware of someone watching me.

With a gasp, I whirl around and then immediately blow out a relieved breath when I see it’s Deck who’s come up behind me.

He was clearly on his way to the creek to wash up. He’s not wearing a shirt, and he’s holding soap and a towel. There’s a sheen of sweat on his skin, on his beard and hairline. My eyes are drawn immediately to his naked chest.

It’s a good one with defined muscles and a scattering of hair. My appreciation of his body is more thanaesthetic. Something about the sight of him partly undressed awakens a newer, deeper feeling.

Need.

Need.

Like I’ll be living a half existence if I don’t get my hands on him.

I wrench my eyes back up to his face because leering in this context is inappropriate. My breath hitches when I notice his gaze is crawling up and down over my body with such hunger I can’t help but look down at myself.

My bra is thin and damp. There are drips of water streaming down my skin into the low waistline of my jeans. My body is nothing special, but it’s exposed more than it’s ever been with Deck before.

With a weird jerk of his head, he looks away from me. Makes a quick, awkward sign.Sorry.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know I was here.” I pull back on my shirt even though my wet hair is going to soak the back of it. My entire body buzzes with an almost-forgotten sensation.

Arousal.

It’s been a really long time since sex has even crossed my mind.

My cheeks flush hot as I duck my head and gather up my shampoo and conditioner. “Okay.”

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

“Okay,” I mumble again. “I’ve got to…” I wave in a random direction, indicating anywhere other than right here.

Then I get out of there before I humiliate myself even more.

It should have been over after that, but it’s not.

Not for me, anyway.

I keep reliving the moment in my mind for the rest of the afternoon, and every time I do my body getsinterestedagain.

Hal and I had plenty of sex in college, but less and less in the months after Impact. We were too scared. Too vulnerable. Had decreasing energy as our food sources became scarcer. Plus, while we took care of ourselves as much as possible, issues caused by our lack of hygiene made sex less appealing than it would have been otherwise.

Not to mention that, even if we took precautions, the possibility of my becoming pregnant in our tenuous situation was the stuff of nightmares.

So we didn’t have sex much, and neither of us were particularly troubled by that fact. If Hal got hard, I’d help him jerk off. I never got aroused at all.

I’ve never considered myself an intensely sexual person anyway. The only times I got turned on before Hal were from reading sexy stories. I wasn’t even physically interested in Hal’s body until I fell in love with him.

---