Sexy Legs Montgomery

She crept in on tiptoe. He was asleep, she hoped, and she was not about to wake him. Faint silver ribbons of moonlight slithered past the half-drawn curtains, caressing his face. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of his restless features. Her fingertips ached to stroke his feverish cheek in the dark, untouched streaks, but she held back. His body was still, bundled in the kindness of their soft sheets. He had a plush pillow to cradle his head and soothe him to sleep. Alex had everything he needed there, yet his chest shuddered. Resting her hand over her own, she felt the trembling match his quivering pace. 

The redhead promised to keep her distance. With legs tucked neatly underneath her, she settled to the adjacent couch cushion, her eyes turned on him again. The moonlight continued to drift peacefully by, paying no heed to the situation. Such things could not catch illness. Closing her heavy eyes for a moment, she expelled a sigh in the stillness. If only she could be free like that. She could hover over his shoulder, brushing back his tousled hair. She could surround him in her comfort, silently drawing the illness from his veins with the passage of time. Addison envied the moonlight and its icy fingertips. 

Flickers of discomfort danced across his features as he passed through various levels of consciousness. There was peace, and calm, and the grotesque chaos that came with pain. Addison drew in a deep breath as if it might relieve him, but it was fruitless labor. His remarkably strong body seemed so fragile now. It was wrought with rash and chills; diseased with a sickness that once meant a death sentence. He continued to ask her why she worried, his words echoing in her mind even now, but the answer never came to her tongue. 

Her response was never meant to be verbalized. She worried for all the things they shared--all the things they could lose. Even the most tempered steel could be weakened or destroyed. She worried for the moments when their eyes met and wouldn't come away from each other; for the touches that soothed frayed nerves and the embraces that fortified their strengths to protect their weaknesses. The man struggling to be well again was her source of solace and her foundation when everything crumbled down around her ears. Without him, she would be vulnerable. Exposed.

She worried because it was how she cared. Mental energy wasted on 'what if's and days spent away from work to mend his broken wing were well worth it. She worried because he was worth it. 

She couldn't take it anymore. The mistress of the night sky was threatening to encase him in ice when he deserved to be wrapped in her calm radiance. Rising to her feet, she crept beneath the blankets, ignoring every warning he'd given her to stay away. He was ailing, and he wanted to protect her, but he was the one who needed this. Pressing her cool body against his back, she let out another sigh. His feverish skin warmed hers. Her arm found its way around his waist, her nose nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Here, she could feel his heart thump against her chest. She knew he could feel hers, too. It was eagerly fluttering, elated by the feeling of being home again. 

Pressing a kiss to his neck, she closed her eyes. Her loving praises slipped effortlessly out in a whisper as the moonlight began to soothe her toward slumber. Now, she could protect him. Now, she could heal him in ways medicines simply couldn't.