Day 18 – Eighth of an Inch

She fell asleep in my arms again last night. It was probably the best sleep she's had since this horrible ordeal began, simply for the fact that I didn't hear her teeth chattering once. And I have to admit to myself that it felt nice to have her there and not just because of the peace it brought to my ears.

But now I am awake, though I'd might as well not be for all that I can see. And I can hear Sydney sleeping soundly against me. My body is stretched out flat against the hard floor and I have my left arm propped under my head for a pillow. My right arm is securely around her and her head is resting on the space between my chest and bicep. Her body is stretched out and completely against mine to take advantage of as much body heat as possible. When I tried to shift my hips a little while ago, she unconsciously shifted as well, following my body with hers.

I didn't shift again.

But now that I'm awake I doubt that I will be able to fall asleep again. All I can do is lie here motionless and feel her along every inch of my body. Her head is heavy on my chest. Her arms are tucked between her body and mine so that I am enveloping her completely. Except for her legs. Her legs are stretched out, completely against mine. I tucked my injured ankle back and out of the way but other than that I have no relief against her heat. She shifts her left thigh between my legs, no doubt to warm it up better.

But her thigh feels taut through the thin material of our utility pants. We chose our clothing for its function this mission. We were supposed to be meeting dealers that had procured a Rambaldi artifact that they were interested in selling. The meeting was to take place at the Los Angeles Docks. So we chose black clothing, to look more intimidating and material suitable for having to chase delinquent dealers around a dirty warehouse, if it came down to that.

But the material is not so thick that I can't feel the pressure of her thigh against mine.

I force my mind onto something else. At least I figured out what she used to tie up my ankle and my broken finger; she ripped the sleeves off of her shirt. I can hardly complain that she's now chosen to hide her arms between our bodies. She must be very cold.

It doesn't take much for my mind to wander back to the fact that our bodies are separated by material perhaps only an eight of an inch thick.

Her leg tucked tightly between my legs.

Her body pressed closely against mine.

Her hair tickling my face.

My arm encircling her small torso.

Her breaths against my chest.

My mind starts to imagine the possibility of a different time and place; of lying like this under a warm sun with sand instead of metal for a bed, a soft ocean in the distance bringing a pleasant breeze towards us.

My body against hers. Her legs between mine.

My legs between hers. My hands in her hair, pulling her head back gently to meet mine…

Oh god, this is torture.

I force myself to stop. I force myself to open my eyes and see nothing.

I force myself to breathe deeply and exhale. I force myself to do it again.

But her body is still touching mine.

Her thigh is still against mine.

With a sudden burst of energy, I quickly jerk my leg back, unable to stand the pressure any longer, but I can't move it far enough. I jar my foot into the wall.

A blinding pain shoots up from my ankle through my leg, almost distracting me from the woman now waking in my arms.

But I force myself to freeze as awareness comes to her, allowing her to feel the intimacy of our embrace.

She freezes when she realizes it.

She recovers quickly and untangles herself from me, pausing only after we are no longer touching. "I'm sorry," she says quietly.

I respond before I can stop myself.

"I'm not." My voice is quiet and I'm surprised at how low it sounds.

I don't hear her moving away from me, and I can't stop my hand that is reaching out to touch her. It finds her arm and travels up it slowly. I can feel her bare arms with my fingertips.

My hand follows her arm up to her collarbone and up her neck until I have her face cradled in my hand. I can't stop myself from closing the distance between us and finding the other side of her neck with my mouth. But it all seems to be happening in slow motion.

I use my lips to travel up the opposite side of her face that my hand did, caressing and tasting the soft skin of her neck. But there's more. My lips work their way up to her head and as I breathe softly into her ear, I can feel her melt more into my hand, like the muscles of her neck have suddenly decided to relax.

She lets me continue the trail that my lips have started and I follow her jaw line down to her mouth. There have been no kisses, no words, just caresses and breaths but I want more, more than I've ever wanted anything before.

My lips find hers and again it's more of a caress than a kiss. But I am not content with that. I find her lower lip and kiss it and then repeat the same to her upper lip. She does not open her mouth but her breathing is quicker and I can tell that she's not upset.

I move to kiss her more directly but as I start to put pressure on her mouth she pulls away.

"Wait," she says breathlessly. Her voice sounds as low as mine just did.

I don't want to.

She scrambles back, away from me, and all I am left with is empty space in front of me.

"Sydney—" I call out to her, but all I can hear is her pacing back and forth.

Back and forth.

A ball of anger starts to form in my stomach and it carries all the way to my hand. I find a small measure of relief by slamming my fist into the wall.

The sound reverberates through our small prison.

My broken finger hurts much worse now and she doesn't speak to me for the rest of the day.