Spiral

by Mila Ferrera

  His head lowers so he’s looking in my eyes. “I’m completely in love with you.”

  He flexes his hips and enters me, just a few inches, but the sensation makes me cry out, and my only anchor is his words. “I love you,” he says again, pulling out until only the tip is inside me. I try to squirm myself down, desperate to feel him again, needing more, but he holds me immobile and remains coy.

  When I look up at him, his expression is playful with a hint of tension. So beautiful, I think. So beautiful it hurts. I take his face in my hands. “I’m glad to hear it,” I say. “Because I love you, too.”

  Aron’s smile is the most perfect thing I have ever beheld. He gazes into my eyes with such adoration that it sends a tear streaking down my cheek. He kisses it away … and then he slides into me, breaching my body completely. I have never felt anything like this, being filled beyond what I can take but still wanting more. My fingers grip Aron’s shoulders as he pulls out and pushes in again, burying himself to the hilt. There’s a whisper of pain, but wrapped around it is the heady promise of rapture, of something just over the horizon if I reach far enough.

  “Is that okay?” he asks, voice ragged.

  “Yes.” It comes out shaky and quiet, but he hears me and begins to move, slow at first, deliberate, watching my face as the friction and heat unravel me piece by piece and moment by moment. Where we overlap is the center of my will, my consciousness, my awareness. Everything else falls away.

  Aron releases one of my legs as he continues to thrust, and I wrap it around his hips, urging him on as the frenzied tension builds once again. He still has my other leg captive, spreading me wide, and it only adds to my pleasure as his body collides with mine, striking my clit every time he pushes himself to my limit. The pressure inside me is spiraling up, and when I take in Aron’s expression, I know it must be the same for him. His face is etched with strain, and his eyes are squeezed shut. Finally he lowers his head to my shoulder and moans without losing his rhythm. “So. Tight. Amazing,” he huffs against my skin. “Love you.”

  I coil my arms around his neck and push up on my heels, and then he’s so deep I shudder with the intensity, clutching at his back, needing more. More. “More,” I beg.

  He picks up his pace, releasing my other leg so he can slide his hand under me and cant my hips up to receive all of him. Black and white spots crowd my vision as I pant, and cool tingles burst at the center of my chest and spread outward. I’m thrusting too, now, rising to meet every powerful incursion of his body into mine. Aron’s grip on me is iron. And I don’t want him to ever let me go.

  When my fingernails dig into the flesh at his lower back, he rewards me with a bruising kiss that is all possession. He matches the rhythm of his tongue to the tempo of his hips, and it pushes me so close to the edge that fireworks explode behind my closed eyelids, that horizon rushing toward me. Just when I think the feeling couldn’t get more intense, he twists his hips a little, and I whimper as he hits a new and incredibly sensitive spot.

  It’s enough to tip me over the edge, and Aron senses that immediately. He raises his head and watches as I come apart, as pleasure sends me whirling and falling through space. My vision goes black, blinding me to everything but the feel of him as he grinds against me, drawing out the ecstasy until I spasm around him, clutching at his body as mine spins out of control. Lost in the haze of my orgasm, I hear Aron say something dark and guttural, and I’m fairly sure it’s in Swedish. Then his muscles turn rock hard beneath my grasping hands, and he grips my hips and drives into me one more time. With a deep groan, he jerks inside of me. His chest heaves against mine as his shaft pulses, sending aftershocks of bliss through my core.

  We lie there, panting, and I wrap myself around him, winding my fingers through his hair. His breath skates warm and damp against my throat as he slowly slides out of me, but he doesn’t roll off me or even move very far. He simply lowers his head to my chest and listens to my thumping heart.

  I sink back into the pillows and let the minutes pass, a heavy looseness uncoiling along my limbs, happier than I have ever been. My fingers spread between his shoulder blades, and my own sense of possession swells. This one is mine, I think. He’s mine. “Mine,” I breathe.

  He turns his head to kiss the spot right over my heart. “So that was what it took to get you to realize it.”

  “Mmm,” I say, a slow smile growing. “But I’m kind of forgetful.”

  A tremor of laughter rolls through his body. “In that case, I’ll be happy to remind you.”

  And then, slowly and thoroughly, he does exactly that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aron outlasts me, but it takes a while. At first I’m too busy memorizing his body with my tongue, my hands, my teeth, too enraptured by the way he touches me like it’s an act of worship, too captivated by the way his expression twists with pleasure when he comes. But eventually, my exhaustion catches up with me, and in the aftermath of yet another bone-shattering orgasm, I fall asleep in his arms.

  I’m awakened by the sound of clattering pans and running water. Blinking, I rise onto my elbow and peer at the source of the noise. It’s still dark outside, but the alarm clock by the bed tells me it’s just after five.

  Aron is standing at the counter of the kitchenette, wearing slacks and a t-shirt, chopping fruit. And cooking eggs. And baking muffins, judging by the amazing smell drifting from the oven. I rub my eyes and squint. “Aron?”

  He turns around, paring knife in hand. “Damn. You were so dead asleep that I thought I could manage this without waking you. I’m sorry.”

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  He shrugs. “I wasn’t tired. There’s an all-night grocery nearby, and so I went out and got some things. You never got to eat your pizza.”

  He’s talking too fast for me to process so early in the morning, when my brain is moving at snail speed. “I guess not … but you didn’t have to—”

  “I wanted to,” he says, then flashes his wicked smile. “After tiring you out last night, I felt the need to leave you with sustenance.”

  I shift and feel the soreness, both between my legs as well as the heavy weariness of muscles worked in ways they aren’t yet accustomed to. He puts down his knife and comes over to the bed, dropping to his knees beside me. With tenderness in his expression, he brushes my tangled hair away from my face. “Good morning,” he whispers, brushing his lips over mine. “You don’t have to get up.”

  I groan. “I do, actually. I wanted to be at the lab before seven. I have a lot to get done before Thursday morning.”

  He gets up and returns to the eggs, flipping them over and then sliding them onto a plate. “My flight leaves in a few hours and I have to return the rental car first, so I won’t be in your way. I can drive you to campus, though.”

  I watch him for a few minutes, putting the fruit in a dish, taking the muffins out of the oven. He’s got so much energy, and I feel like a slug. “I wish you could stay. Or that I could go back with you. I still can’t believe you did this.”

  He makes a plate for me and brings it to bed. “But you’re happy?”

  I inhale the scent of blueberry muffin. “Are you kidding? It was the most amazing night of my life, and now I’m waking up to breakfast in bed, served to me by a Viking sex god.”

  He laughs. “I like that title. Will you call me that from now on?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Only if you live up to it.”

  He tugs the sheet, baring one of my breasts. Never taking his eyes off mine, his finger slides from my cheek to my neck, across my collarbone, and around one of the pale swells. My body tightens like it recognizes its master. Then his touch disappears. “I’ll do my best,” he says in an amused voice. “Now eat.”

  Aron checks his email while I shower, but when I come out, he takes one look at me in my towel and has it off me in a second. His kisses taste like green tea, as always, and his tongue sears its way from my mouth to the base of my neck. He is barely contained frenz
y, and after a few moments of his questing fingers, so am I. We nearly forget the condom this time. Within seconds of rolling it onto him, I’m bracing myself on the bed while he pounds into me from behind. I’ve never felt so sexy or wild, and with all that stimulation, my soreness transforms into edgy pleasure and then outright rapture. I climax quickly, and he follows soon after, then stumbles back while I pitch forward, nerveless and spent.

  “My God,” he pants. “I think I’m going to be constantly hard in your presence from now on.”

  “I could live with that,” I say breathlessly. I turn over to see him staring at me, the banked fire of passion in his eyes, his pants sagging from his hips. He looks down at himself and holds up a finger, asking me for a moment, then heads to the bathroom while I lie on my back and close my eyes, enjoying the jittering bolts of sensation still zinging around my body. I startle when I feel the warm, wet cloth on my thigh, then sigh with pleasure as Aron gently cleans me up.

  We do the dishes together, but when I start to pack my things, Aron stops me. “You don’t need to do that. I booked the room through Wednesday night.”

  “What? Aron, that’s too much—”

  He takes my face in his hands. “Make me happy. Call me tonight and tell me what you’d be doing to me if I were here. You can’t do that if you’re in a friend’s apartment, on a lumpy futon with a cat kneading your delectable posterior, can you?”

  I snort. “I guess not, but—”

  He silences me with a kiss. “Promise me you’ll keep the room.”

  “How can I say no?” Apparently I have phone sex duty tonight, and I’ll need to be at my best. I’ve never done that, but for Aron, I’m willing to do just about anything.

  “Smart girl,” he murmurs. “Now let me take you to campus or I’ll get distracted again and miss my plane.”

  I touch down in Philly late in the morning on Thursday, rested and restless, both thanks to Aron. He said he’d pick me up, but I wouldn’t let him. He’s making up for the time he spent with me by working a few longer days and taking on-call for Mark, who covered for him when he took off so abruptly. I told him I’d rather him have the evening and weekend off instead of taking the middle of the day to act as my personal taxi. So, of course, he arranges for a limo service to get me back to my apartment. I shake my head in disbelief when I see the driver holding up a sign with my name on it next to the baggage claim. We’re going to have to talk, because none of this is cheap. Still, I want him to know I’m grateful:

  You are incorrigible. But also amazing. Thanks for the ride.

  A few minutes later, he replies:

  I’d give anything to change places with your driver, but then neither of us would get back to work. Tonight you are mine.

  It sends excitement fizzing through my veins. For the past two days, I’ve worked solid fourteen hour stints in the lab, breaking only to eat lunch with the other grad students and meet with Dr. Eshkol, who has decided to act as my advisor until I graduate and has pledged that he’ll help me through these final months. I think he feels pretty guilty about Frank, and though I don’t think it’s any more his fault than it is mine, I’ll take whatever support he offers. In the evenings, I’d rush back to the hotel for a hot shower and a quick meal, and then I’d call Aron, wet and ready at the mere thought of him. His voice transmitted his desire right through the phone, straight into my bloodstream. It was so urgent, desperate with need. I’ve never felt so wanted, and I’ve never been as wanton as I am with him. And though those conversations provided a few moments of satisfaction, in the end they only left me more eager to experience him in person.

  After I stow my bag in my apartment, I shower, dress in my professional clothes, and head to the hospital. I’ve been gone for nearly two weeks. My supervisors all understood the crisis and were generous about letting me go, but now I’ve used a huge chunk of my vacation time. If I want to get all the required internship hours, I need to have a near-perfect attendance record from now on, so even missing a half-day is no good. I email all my supervisors to let them know I’m back, and schedule meetings with each of them to get updates on all the patients they’ve been covering for me.

  Next, I make my rounds, visiting my consult clients who are still inpatient. Ursula’s not doing well, and Dr. Feldman has taken the difficult step of suggesting we call in the hospice care team to focus on relieving her pain and making her more comfortable. I sit with Mr. and Mrs. Crandall, listening to all their fears, all their dread. Since our conversation a few weeks ago, they’ve been more honest with her, giving her information that only confirmed her suspicion that her condition was terminal. But they don’t want her to see how scared they are, and I understand that completely. We talk about what her life has meant to them, and how those things will never diminish even if she doesn’t make it. It’s a draining session that takes every ounce of my energy and concentration. In a daze, I document the consult and head back to the intern office to catch up on my readings for next week’s journal club.

  The other three interns are all in the office when I get there. A twinge of anxiety curls in my stomach when I see Lisa chatting amiably with Nick, especially when they all go silent as I walk in. After I turn on my computer, Nick clears his throat and says, “Ness? Can I talk to you for a minute in the hall?”

  I glance nervously over his shoulder at Lisa, who gives me a nod, letting me know she’s here. “Okay,” I say slowly. “But only for a minute. I have a lot of make-up work to do.”

  He nods, and we step into the hall. “I wanted to apologize,” he says, then bows his head and crosses his arms over his chest. “For a lot of things, actually. But most recently, for how I treated you at the party. I’d had a little too much to drink, but I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  I blink, not sure I heard him right. “Thanks.”

  He raises his head. “I know things have been really rough for you lately. I feel bad that I might have added to it. I’ve always been kind of an asshole, I guess.”

  I try to suppress a smile. “Well … the first step is admitting it? Recovery is a long process, though.”

  “No shit.” He scrubs a hand down his face, looking weary.

  “How have things been going?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Fine. I scheduled my dissertation defense and will be headed up to New Haven in January. And Lindstrom’s been in a really good mood, so onco hasn’t been as hellish as I expected. I’ll be honest, after the party, I thought he was going to come after me, but I’ve seen him on the unit a bunch of times, and it’s like someone gave him a happy pill.”

  “Huh. I’m glad to hear it.” And hoping it has something to do with me. “I’m glad you guys are getting along.”

  He watches me closely, surprise glinting in his blue eyes. “Wait. Are you still with him?”

  “Why are you asking me that?” Especially with that weird, unpleasant expression.

  “After seeing him with that other girl at the party, I assumed you guys were done.” He sounds irritable now, impatient. Like his being nice to me was entirely based on his hope that he’d have another shot with me. “Anyway, I have to head up to Ortho Rehab. See you later.” He turns on his heel and stalks down the hall.

  Shaking my head, I return to the intern office. Lisa spins in her chair. “How was your trip?” she asks.

  “Miserable yet productive.” I smile. “With a few bright spots.”

  Justin shifts uncomfortably in his chair, grabs his notebook, and excuses himself, obviously sensing the onslaught of girl talk. Lisa smirks as he closes the door behind him. “Tell me about the bright spots.”

  “Aron surprised me a few days ago. He showed up in Madison.”

  Her eyes go round. “What? Are you serious? That’s … serious.”

  “I think it might be,” I say, unable to call it anything else after the things Aron has said to me over the past week. We’re like a runaway train and I have no desire to put on the brakes.

  She tilts her head. “Don’t ge
t mad at me for this, but—did you ever ask him about his past? He broke a lot of hearts, Nessa, and I’d feel so sad if yours was one of them.”

  “Me too,” I reply, swallowing hard. “But he said it was just a phase he went through. Like after a month, he stopped.”

  “A phase?” Lisa looks so skeptical that I have to turn away and stare at my computer screen as she continues to talk. “He’s a grown man, not a child. Usually, at this point, these kinds of things are patterns of behavior, not month-long ‘phases.’” Out of the corner of my eye, I see her use air quotes, and it makes my teeth clench.

  “I trust him, Lisa. He hasn’t given me any reason not to. He’s been honest and open and amazing. He’s part of why I’m not a freaking basket case right now. Why are you being so hard on him?”

  She frowns. “I’m sorry. I’ve always been that friend, you know? I’m protective, and I want to see you with a really good guy. And if Aron is that guy, then I’m thrilled, but having heard about his escapades makes me nervous, especially when I hear that kind of odd explanation for it.”

  I nod and murmur my thanks, and we chat for a while about her husband’s recent promotion and her hopes of getting a post-doc and staying at CHOP next year. As she returns to her cubicle, I stare at my computer screen, still mulling over her words. Was Aron’s “just a phase” explanation something I should have questioned more? Am I being gullible because I’m so crazy about him? It sits in my stomach like a ball of barbed wire, and I fold my arm over my middle as the anxiety tries to take root. I don’t want to doubt him. I promised him I’d trust him. But what if …

  There’s a knock at the door, and Lisa opens it. An enormous bouquet of red roses is standing in the hall. Or, more accurately, a tiny, perky girl with a lip ring, holding a bouquet that is larger than her torso. “Delivery,” she says. “Please tell me where to put these down.”