chapter thirty seven

"It's a weird thing isn't it? To touch someone and feel like you're on fire when it's your fingertips that are freezing cold. They shiver on their own as I run them down your neck, your collarbones, the dip between and you huff, half at how agonizingly slow the touch is and half at how incredibly it affects you, makes you fall apart without realisation.

It is all so elevating, the hair at the nape of your neck stand, my skin ripples in goosebumps and yours follows the effect. There is a fingertip, cold, nimble and long in the middle of my back. It splays up and runs down till I shiver, back arching into you and I part my mouth from yours in a whimper.

It really is weird, isn't it? I break for you, shatter and turn over inside my body all because I get to touch you and most importantly, I get to be touched by