It was him.

She looked up--met his eyes.

And he didn't look away.

No smile. No apology. Just recognition.

Then he stepped back. Gave her space.

"Finish," he said gently. "Then come stand by the fire. It'll be up in no time."

She reached for her shorts. They peeled down inch by inch, wet and unforgiving. Her underwear clung like a second skin, peeled slowly from between her thighs, and when she stepped out of them, she felt raw. Exposed.

Not just naked.

Unwrapped.

Instinctively, she placed one hand over herself--shyly, protectively--fingers covering the soft, neatly trimmed patch of hair above her sex. It did little to hide her, but...