Spiral

by Mila Ferrera

  I inch up and pull his head down to mine, putting my answer into my kiss, into stuttering breaths against his mouth. I don’t know how to tell him with words, not yet. But as we hold each other, as we enjoy our last few minutes together before the world closes in again and pulls us apart, I silently promise him: When I come back, I’ll give you all of me.

  I sit back from the computer, my back aching. The past week and a half has been a festival of misery. Frank was well-loved by all his students, and his death was painfully sudden and so wrong. Everyone has been walking around like zombies with red-rimmed eyes. I feel that way, too, but I’ve had no choice but to be the Energizer Bunny. As the senior grad student in his lab, I’ve rallied the troops. I’ve met with my committee and even Dr. Eshkol to make sure I still have a shot of finishing by next summer. And thanks to Frank, I got the go-ahead to start my study the day after his funeral. I’ve been scrambling to collect the rest of my dissertation data since then, interviewing parents about their children’s developing gender identities and scheduling observations of the children with their peers that some of the more junior graduate students will complete for me next semester.

  I’ve slept only a few hours a night—on a lumpy futon in another grad student’s living room, with her twenty-pound cat kneading its claws in my backside at random intervals, just to ensure that I don’t get anything resembling adequate rest.

  But in three days, I’ll see Aron again. His texts and our nightly phone calls have been the only thing keeping me going. We downloaded a chess app on our phones and play throughout the day, one more way of staying connected. Every time my phone buzzes, a tiny thrill zips through me, because I know he’s thinking of me. When we kissed goodbye at the airport, I think both of us knew something had changed. We had silently agreed that this thing we have together is deeper than casual dating, that slow is irrelevant, that we’re going to make it to the endgame, whatever that turns out to be. And instead of being afraid, I can’t wait to get back.

  For now, though, I have to code and enter two more interviews before I’ll let myself leave for the day. I rub my eyes and yawn, then press play on my digital recorder. Before the mom on the recording has a chance to say how she felt when her little boy first announced he wanted to be a girl, my phone buzzes with a text from Aron, and I hit pause.

  How did you sleep?

  A huff of laughter escapes me as I type Have forgotten meaning of sleep. Please define.

  I thought you might say that.

  And then my inbox notification beeps. I flip to it. “Holy whoa,” I whisper. Aron has reserved me a room at HotelRED, one of the nicest hotels in Madison. You are so sweet, but I can’t accept.

  It’s paid for already. Make me happy? Sleep?

  I stare down at his text, and then type my response. You are my hero.

  I dive back into work for the afternoon and finish by seven, grab my stuff from the apartment where I’ve been staying, and head for HotelRED, desperate for a hot shower and a quiet, cat-less night. My mom calls as I hike up the commuter path toward the stadium, which is right across from the hotel. “Hey, Mom.”

  “I just wanted to see how you are, kiddo. I know it’s been a rough week.”

  This is code for: How’s your mood? Not depressed, are you? Because we’ve had this conversation a thousand times, because she’s danced around it every time, I know what she needs to hear: I’m not going off the deep end, and I have no plans to kill myself. More or less, at least. “It has been, but I’m feeling hopeful. I think I’ve got the details hammered out.”

  “You must be working yourself raw. Are you sleeping?”

  I grin. “I’ll definitely be catching up on some zees tonight.”

  “Aron is probably missing you. Have you talked to him much?”

  “I was wondering when you’d bring him up,” I say, but there’s no bite in it. I’ve tried to keep her expectations for our relationship low, but I think she can tell how I feel about him even when I try to hide it. “He’s one of the big reasons I’m not a quivering mess right now, actually.”

  “A good partner can be a godsend,” she says quietly. “But you have to be responsible for taking care of yourself, right?”

  “First you tell me to get a support system, and now you tell me I have to do it on my own? You sound as confused as I am about the whole thing.”

  “Sorry. I want both for you, I guess. I want you to have it all. And to be okay.”

  “It’s all right, Mom. Remember I’ve been fine on my own for years? I can take care of myself. I’m just … letting Aron help a little.”

  “It’s about time,” she says with a laugh.

  We spend a few minutes chatting about her jerk of a boss and Grammy’s recent hip issues before hanging up. I spend the rest of my walk to the hotel with her voice bouncing around between my ears. Am I taking care of myself? Stress can lead to a breakdown, and despite being in a competitive doctoral program for the last four years, I’ve never been under so much stress. Is the fact that I feel mostly fine a sign of how disconnected I am, or am I really okay? And how not okay would I be if Aron weren’t around right now, the huge bright star in my dark sky?

  As the hotel’s red-and-cream façade comes into view, I decide it doesn’t matter for the moment. Once I check in, I text Aron, thanking him again and telling him I’ll call later. He doesn’t respond immediately, which tells me he’s probably with a patient.

  I take a long hot shower and emerge pink-skinned, loose-limbed, and hungry. Despite the fact that this room is a suite, complete with a little kitchen nicer than the one in my apartment in Philly, I splurge and order pizza after too many nights of ramen noodles. I check my phone and see that Aron has made another move in our ongoing chess game for the day. CHECK, the accompanying message says. Perhaps you should consider surrendering.

  I let out a breath of laughter. “No kidding,” I whisper. As I slip under the covers, my wet hair tangling down my back, the phone buzzes again.

  Settled in?

  Yep. So happy. You are amazing.

  Did you eat?

  Just ordered pizza. Are you off now?

  Yes. Pizza sounds good.

  I’d share it with you if you were here.

  Really?

  You know it.

  I sit there for a few minutes, waiting for his response, but it doesn’t come. Telling myself he’s probably in transit—and smart enough not to text and drive—I flip through channels and wait for my dinner to arrive.

  When the knock comes, I grab my wallet and skip to the door in my pajama pants and t-shirt. I fling open the door. And freeze.

  There’s a Viking in the hallway. Well. He’s not in costume, but he’s got the tall-blond-dangerous thing down cold. “I hope you weren’t kidding about sharing,” he says, looking me up and down with a wicked grin. “Because I’m starving.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “How did you—” is all I get out before he strides forward and takes me into his arms. His fingers tangle in my damp hair and his mouth tastes like tea and mint. I clutch at his coat, unable to believe he’s really here. His hand travels under the back of my shirt and over the slope of my spine, simultaneously igniting me and making me shiver.

  “I missed you too much,” he says against my mouth. “I couldn’t take it.”

  I unzip his coat even as I say, “But I’ll be back in a few days.”

  “And I’ll go back tomorrow morning, but for now, I’m here to make sure you get a good night’s sleep.” He smiles and nips at my bottom lip as his coat slides down his arms.

  I laugh. “If you think your presence makes me sleepy, you don’t understand your effect on me.” Because I feel wide awake now. Electric.

  He takes my hand as he ventures into the room, looking around. “Do you like it?”

  “Are you kidding?” I stand in front of him as he sits on the bed, our fingers laced. “When did you decide to do this?”

  He grins. “This morning.”

&n
bsp; I gape at him. “That’s … um …”

  “That’s a sign of how much I wanted to do this.” He puts his hands on my hips and pulls me between his knees. The kiss is so deep that my legs start to shake. I thread my fingers into his hair and moan as his tongue thrusts into my mouth. Like always, I feel it everywhere, my body flashing hot, desire pooling between my legs.

  So of course that’s when there’s another knock at the door. I raise my head, and Aron leans back, breathing hard. And speaking of hard … “I think I should answer the door,” I say, staring at the sizable bulge in his pants.

  “Brilliant,” he says with a laugh.

  I pay for the pizza and bring it into the room, setting it on the counter of the kitchenette. I’m not exactly hungry for food right now, but Aron said he was starving, so I’m reaching for a plate when he comes up behind me and nuzzles my neck. “You’re going to make me break a dish,” I say breathlessly.

  His hand closes over mine and together we lower the plate to the counter. But then his palm slides up my arm while he nibbles at the junction between my neck and shoulder. I tilt my head to offer him greater access and his teeth scrape against my skin. His hand slides up my shirt and cups one of my breasts as his tongue forges a tingling path to the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “You are so beautiful, Nessa,” he breathes as he rolls a nipple between thumb and forefinger. His rigid length is pressed against my back, and I reach for his hip and pull him closer.

  Everything else drops away as his other hand skims down my belly, beneath the edge of my panties. I let out a helpless noise as his fingers part my folds and find the center of me wet and ready. Aron is all around me, holding me immobile as he sucks gently on my neck. My hands are braced on the counter, trying to keep myself from falling to the floor. He’s overwhelming my senses, my judgment, but before this gets out of control, I need to get a handle on the situation. I twist within his grip. He allows me to spin around and look into his eyes, which are hazed and hot with need. I gulp. Viking sex god pretty much sums it up, I think, and then I give myself a mental shake. “Aron, are we going to—” I bite my lip.

  “We’re doing as much as you want to do,” he says, his voice husky. “And I’m going to be as close to you as you’ll let me.”

  “How close do you want to be?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. I know what I want. I’ve been thinking about it since I left, and there’s no doubt in my mind. In fact, I even made use of the University clinic’s low cost health services a few days ago, and got myself a birth control shot. It’s not foolproof for a week, though, so …

  He puts his arms around my waist and draws me against him. “I want to be inside you. But only if that’s what you want.”

  I nod, my eyelids dropping shut for a moment as I feel him pressed between my hips, bringing on another wave of liquid need. “Do you have—um—did you happen to bring any—”

  “Call me an optimist,” he says with a wicked smile.

  “Thank God,” I whisper, my fingers already unbuttoning his shirt. It’s one of those tailored jobs, just like the one I nearly ruined the day we met. I push it open across his firm chest and spend a few moments taking in his golden-tinted skin, not overtanned, not pale, just perfect and delicious. He watches me with heavily lidded eyes and lets his arms hang while I push the shirt off his shoulders. It falls to the floor near our feet, but he’s too busy with my shirt to bother with it. He sweeps it over my head and leaves me standing there wearing nothing but my Sleepy Sheep pajama pants.

  Yeah, seriously. Sleepy Sheep. Not exactly sexy, but I wouldn’t try telling Aron that right now, because he gives me another of those deep kisses as he claims one of my breasts, flicking the nipple with his thumb. Then I’m in his arms, being carried across the room. “Aren’t you hungry?” I ask stupidly. “Pizza?”

  “Later,” he says, laying me down on the bed, looking like he has an entirely different kind of feast in mind. The knowledge sends ecstatic chills shooting through my belly and down my limbs. He lowers himself to the sheets next to me and kisses my stomach. His fingers stroke between my legs and he raises his head. The heat in his gaze makes my mouth go dry. Suddenly, I feel shy, like how can I possibly measure up to all the women who’ve gone before me? How can I stand out? The fairygirl was statuesque and gorgeous, the cat burglar seemed confident and adventurous, and I’m just … me. Aron must read the flicker of anxiety in my eyes, because he crawls up my body and takes my face in his hands. He kisses my lips, and then the tip of my nose. “Everything I do with you is for the first time, Nessa.” He sees my doubt and gives me a pained look. “I wish you could read my mind right now. You’d know how I think about you, and you’d understand.”

  I touch his shoulder and trace his collarbone. “I want to be enough.”

  He lets out a groan of frustration. “Can you trust me? No, look at me. We can’t do this if you don’t trust me.” I hesitate for a moment, and he sighs. “I’ve had myself tested up and down, just so you know. I’m disease-free.”

  I actually assumed he’d been tested, considering both his profession and his general intelligence, but I’m glad to know it anyway. “Me, too,” I say. “But also, I’ve … um … I’ve only been with one other person. And that was several years ago.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Not that you actually asked for that information.”

  “Stop that,” he murmurs, turning my face back as I look away. “I don’t like it when you try to hide. Remember what I said: I want all of you, not just your body.”

  I am stilled by the sincerity and tenderness in his gaze. “And that’s what I’m willing to give, because I trust you,” I say, realizing it’s absolutely true. “But this isn’t one-sided. Do you trust me? And does that matter?”

  “If I was here with anyone else, it wouldn’t,” he replies frankly, brushing his thumb over my mouth. “With you, it means everything, because you hold my heart in your hands.”

  “I’ll take good care of it,” I whisper, my anxiety melting away.

  “I know,” he says as his lips collide with mine, hungry and hot. He pivots over me, his knee between my legs as his hands roam down my stomach and push at the waistband of my pajama pants. He kneels above me and hooks his fingers over the elastic, tugging them—and my panties—past my hips, down my thighs, over my knees, and then I am completely naked, exposed.

  My heart hammering, I rise to my elbows and watch his gaze travel up my legs to the most private parts of me. His expression is rapt as he gently pushes my knees apart and moves up my body like a tiger on the prowl. “Beautiful,” is all he says as he lowers his head and kisses my inner thigh. His tongue snakes out, venturing higher, and I draw in a sharp breath. Part of me is screaming for him to keep going, and part of me is freaking out. I’ve never done this before. Matt and I kind of stuck to the basics, and this wasn’t part of his repertoire. The anxiety starts to build again, but before it can sink its claws in, Aron’s fingers slide into the wet heat of me. I arch back as my thoughts splinter and shatter. Then his mouth closes over my clit, and that tongue … oh God … it swirls slowly and then trails south. The stubble from his chin scrapes my sensitive flesh as his tongue replaces his fingers, and I buck, my thighs ending up on his shoulders. He slides his palms beneath my rear and lifts me to his mouth while my hands find his hair.

  I do not have a single coherent thought in my head as he repeats that pattern over and over, swirling, sliding, thrusting, building tension inside of me that ratchets higher with every new sensation. I’m about to come, but I don’t want the first time to be this way, because the cat burglar still whispers faintly in my ear. I tug at Aron’s hair until he looks up at me. “Come here,” I whisper, and he does, smooth and predatory.

  When our mouths meet, I taste myself, and it is a shocking turn-on I don’t expect. Frantic, I reach for his zipper, undoing it quickly. With my feet, I push his pants down his lean hips, and then he shucks his boxer briefs, too. Now Aron is bared to me, on his knees, and I stare at his body, never havi
ng seen anything so perfect. Matt is my only comparison point, but Aron is … considerably bigger. I stare at the long, thick jut of him as my breath quickens with anticipation and a zing of anxiety. But instead of withdrawing, I decide to explore. I want to please him, to drive him wild like he does to me. I run my fingertips up his thighs and along his rigid length. Aron hisses in a breath between his teeth. I lick my lips and encircle the base with my fingers, fascinated by the feel of it, silk wrapped over steel. When I draw my tongue along the underside, Aron’s head falls back. He curses as my mouth encloses the blunt head, tasting the bead of moisture at the tip and sucking gently.

  “Hang on,” he growls, then practically dives across the bed to grab his overnight bag. He rips the zipper open and digs for a moment, coming up with a triumphant smile on his face and a condom in his hand.

  I watch him put it on with a nervous flutter in my stomach. This is really happening.

  When he’s finished with his task, he crawls back over to me. His expression is no longer predatory, but softer somehow. I shift awkwardly as he comes near, having no idea where to put myself, what position he might find most enticing. He smiles, watching me with eyes brimming with tenderness that makes me ache. “The only way I’ll end up disappointed is if I can’t make you come in my arms, Nessa.”

  His words are so frank, so seductive, that my fear subsides. I reach for him, pulling his mouth to mine as I lean back on the pillows. He lies next to me for a moment, stroking me, kindling the fire of my need for him once again, pushing my knees wider apart as my breaths come faster and faster. Then he levers himself over me and settles between my legs, the backs of my knees resting against his forearms. I am wide open and vulnerable, trembling yet eager. The thick tip of him bumps against my entrance, making me gasp. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says.

  I let out an airless chuckle, fighting the urge to wriggle as he teases me, nudging my clit, sliding through the slick center of me without penetrating. “What’s that?”