Surviving Stirling

Chapter Thirty Seven

I couldn't let the incoherence and inconsistency of my thoughts torture me awake all night.

I was thousands of miles away, it's not like anything could be changed or solved without careful deliberation with Kingsley and right now that felt like an eternity away. So this was just a heavy weight sitting on my conscience.

For goodness sake, close your eyes, shut your mind off and sleep Aurelia.

My eyes were growing heavy from the excessive agitation of my brain, my consciousness finally giving in and ebbing away when suddenly it started happening again, forcing me right back to wide awake in an instant.

The cotton of my T-shirt gently brushed against my torso as his fingers raised it higher and higher until they slipped beneath.

I thought he was sleeping, he's been quietly lying next to me for hours - perhaps his mind wouldn't shut off either.

His fingers skimmed over my stomach like my skin was made of silk. I don't he meant it in a way that was even remotely sexual and yet I became hyper-aware of every molecule in my body.

Can you feel colours in fingertips?

Because I imagined a rainbow to follow his trail across my skin. All sparkly and spell binding -enchanting even.

His touch wasn't just 'magic' as in the noun, that was merely too boring. This was magic on another level. Like the whole sensation felt so deeply magical, I was convinced he was using some kind of ancient witchcraft.

The tiniest movements over my ribcage caused the biggest interruption to my nervous system.

My muscles contracted, every part of me had worked itself up into sensitivity - I could feel his touch in my nipples, though he wasn't actually touching them. I could feel his touch on my neck like an insatiable itch I couldn't scratch, the heat rushed south and cocooned around my clitoris, making it throb in longing.

Fuck, I wanted him.

It was embarrassing, I was almost at the point of pleading and he hadn't even touched me anywhere explicit.

His hand was just making lazy, subconscious strokes, comforting himself, he was probably entirely unaware, he was probably sleeping.

I looked at him from over my shoulder, checking his level of consciousness, his eyes were closed but when he heard my movement he half-lifted a heavy lid.

"Why do you do that hand thing on my belly?"

His eyes jerked wide open and his hand sprang back to his own body. "Sorry" he stated with a face flushed in colour, clearly he didn't realise he was doing it.

I turned back to face away from him, intentionally pushing my body closer to his.

"Don't stop." I cooed, "it's relaxing."

It was not relaxing.

It was frustrating.

"I like to know you haven't snuck away in the night and left me, sensory touch brings me a certain sense of comfort."

That feeling was completely irrational, we were in Montana, where would I go?

But obviously it stems deeper. It's not so irrational when you've dealt with the worst kind of abandonment like I knew he had. There will always be little niggling doubts or feelings attached to him that come as a result of his past.

It hurt my heart to think about, so I turned around, purposefully facing him to allow him to see the sincerity and care I held for him.

"I won't ever leave you Stirling."