Forced To Be With Him 24/7

Chapter 67

Cut school today so decided to update before noon! Enjoy!

Its about midnight when I put my laptop down, three minutes until April 24th. I am too tired to keep my eyes open but as I push away every single thought including business, I remember how good my morning was:

Harry's never been very good at controlling his impulses. Like a perpetual kindergartener, he's always touching something - messing with the zipper on his sweatshirt, picking at the skin under his fingernails, but with growing occurrence, his hands are on me. Touching my hair, holding my hand, stroking the skin of my back.

Like small doses of his own personal heroin, he couldn't get enough. And once he's had a taste - he wants the whole thing. I know this because I know him. I know his ups and downs because I have been through his highs and lows. I have been with him more than I have been with my own brothers so I know him, inside out.

Most times it's out of nowhere. He'll be sitting on the couch with me, watching a movie, and catch a glimpse of my smile out of the corner of his eye and suddenly – he has to touch me. He has to be near me, has to feel my skin against his. He loves the way I smile – the left side pulling up faster than the right as my eyes begin to narrow and my dimples appear.  He loves the way I laugh, especially at one of his jokes, the way my jaw plunges to the ground and my eyes squeeze shut. And it's like a jolt through his brain, his fingers find my hair or his hand finds my thigh and everything feels better.

This morning it was because of my hair. He always wakes up with my hair in his face – tickling his eyes and caught between his lips. Even when he's facing away from me with my smaller arms wound tightly around his waist, my hair still finds a way to fall over his cheeks. And so today, when he woke up with his arm trapped under my pillow and his face buried in my hair, he took a deep breath and inhaled the alluring scent of my vanilla shampoo, he felt calm and happy. He felt safe.

I opened my eyes for just a moment and saw the sun shining brightly through the blinds, so I knew it was after 6, but it was too quiet outside to be later than 10. Which meant it was too early to be awake. I grumbled, shutting my eyes and trying to remember the last bits of my dream. Harry's hand moved slowly up and down my arm, as his body drew nearer to mine. He was so warm, making me sigh involuntarily as he pressed his chest to my back and held me close.

"Harry," I whined. "I'm sleeping."

"No you're not," he said in my ear, running his palm up my side.

"What do you want?" I muttered, not opening my eyes.

He kissed my shoulder as his fingers slipped under my shirt and his warm hand ran over my stomach. I knew exactly what he was doing. "I dunno," he mumbled. "I just woke up and...wanted to touch you."

I opened my eyes, a smirk playing at my lips as his fingers traced over my belly button, tickling the skin of my pelvis. I exhaled and turned to my back to face him. "What time is it?"

He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand, "8:48."

I shook my head with a tired sigh. "I will never understand morning people." He chuckled softly and pressed his body against my side, his eyes dropping to the bulge in his pants that poked at my thigh. I smiled and rubbed my eye, suppressing a yawn as his lips dipped to the exposed skin along my clavicle and sent chills up my arms. "Harry!" I squeaked.

"What?" he asked innocently, kissing up my neck to my cheek. He looked into my eyes and smiled, his dimples deep and his eyes inviting. "I just really...really want to touch you."

"Well it's too early for that," I said, turning back onto my side and closing my eyes. "It's sleep time."

"No," he protested, his voice soft like a whimper. He fell to my side and pressed his hips into my backside, the stiffness between his legs prominent and impossible to ignore. His hands glided over my stomach and traced lightly along the curve of my breast. I pressed my lips together and suppressed a smile, lifting my arm slightly and allowing his hand to move up to caress my breast, pinching my nipple and making me squirm.