She reached for the colorful packages she had laid out on the nightstand, took a brown one and ripped the foil open. The faint smell of cocoa hit her. She rolled the condom onto him with a steady hand. She would rather have done it with her mouth, had studied YouTube videos of women rolling condoms onto dildos using their mouths, and she had tried it herself. That was why she had bought the flavored kind. But it was difficult, they were so sticky, and she hadn’t felt the least bit sexy, so she made do with her hands. She had tested the flavors and liked the strawberry, hated the mint, and eventually settled on chocolate. The things you did to broaden your mind, she thought, straddling him, gripping his cock and pulling him toward her. His hips strained toward her so hard she almost lost her balance on the bed. She gave him a stern look.
“Lie still.”
“I can’t,” he hissed.
“And stop pulling on the ribbons,” she said sharply. “You’ll hurt yourself. If you can’t do what I say, then . . .”
She started to move away.
“I will, I will. Come back. Christ, come back, please.”
She kissed his chest, gently bit his gold ring. He lay still. But he was sweaty, his jaw tight, and she realized she had pushed him as far as she could.
“I’m going to undo the ropes now,” she said. “But you can’t move your hands until I say so, okay?”
He nodded.
She untied one. Then the other. She held his gaze. His eyes were almost black, but he lay still just like she told him. She moved over him, adjusted her body. He closed his eyes.
“You’re so close, aren’t you?” she murmured. “Do you want to come?”
“God, yes.”
“Not yet.”
She rode him slowly, knew he would want to move more roughly, quickly, knew he was using all of his strength to obey her, to restrain himself.
She paused.
He made a growling sound. But he didn’t move his arms. She put her hands on his shoulders and began to slowly ride him again.
“Now,” was all she said.
She felt the balance of power shift in the blink of an eye, it was like standing on an unsteady block of ice before it swayed and sent her plunging straight down to the bottomless depths. Alexander’s hands moved so quickly she didn’t even see it. One second she was in control, the next he had grabbed her hips, lifted her up slightly, and then brought her back down as he thrust upward so hard that she panted. Ah, but she loved this, when he took over, when all his strength was unleashed.
She allowed herself to be overpowered by his newly liberated energy, just held on as he threw her down onto the bed, rolled on top of her, pushed her hands up above her head, and held her wrists as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pushed into her and thrust away hard, so deliciously, masterfully hard. He came with a roar, and as the edges of her vision began to dim she came too, as though it was the easiest thing in the world to have yet another orgasm.
He collapsed onto the bed next to her, breathing heavily, groaning into the sheets. He was shaking.
“Are you good?” she asked hesitantly, had never seen him like this.
He answered by violently turning toward her, burying his face into her chest, wrapping his arms around her, and continuing to shake. She stroked his hair gently and waited it out. After a while, he moved a little, wiped his face with the back of his hand. She touched his hair again, felt her heart swell.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice muffled.
“Don’t apologize,” she said. “I know how it feels. It’s very powerful.”
He breathed, she could feel his heart pounding away, and they lay in silence. The apartment was high up, so there were no sounds from outside.
“My God,” he eventually said. She could hear from his voice that he had gathered himself together. “I don’t know what to say. That was . . . intense. Way beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.” He looked at her. “And you were like a fucking wet dream.”
“You seemed a little angry for a while,” she said, studying his face for any sign of regret. But he looked peaceful.
“I probably was. But not really. Never angry. Sorry, my head’s a complete mess.”
“I hadn’t realized how hard it is to be so dominant,” Isobel said, her fingers playing with his hair. “Sometimes I had no idea what to do.”
“It seemed like you were totally in control of everything.”
His voice was steady, and he lay on his back next to her. She lay down on the arm he had stretched out.
“I understand so much more now,” he said after a moment. “It was much harder being in the submissive role than I thought.” He moved and groaned.
“Does it hurt?”
“You’re right, you’re strong,” he said with a laugh. “It hurts even more now.”
“That’s because the endorphins are going. Their function is to mask pain. When they leave the body, that’s when you really feel the pain.” Isobel blushed a little, didn’t know why.
Alexander looked at her, kissed her on the forehead. “How are you? Tell me how it was for you. Was it tough? Fun? And do you know how sexy you were?”
“It felt good. A little strange. Like I exposed myself.”
“Still? Oh, babe, when exactly are you going to start trusting me?”
She didn’t answer. Because Alexander had it all backward. She trusted him, a lot, at least when it came to sex. More than she’d ever trusted anyone else. It felt safe with him. And that was a terrifying feeling. She snuggled closer to him.
He stroked her arm, kissed her gently, mumbled nonsensical phrases about how soft she was, how smooth and sexy and perfect, everything she needed to hear. This tenderness . . . He was a fantastic lover, she had never doubted that. But he was also a good person, on so many levels. It was getting harder and harder to remember how different they were, and what wildly different things they believed in.
She closed her eyes, just wanted to be here and now, ignore complicated feelings.
It was his turn to smooth her hair.
“That’s so nice,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, you like it when I play with your hair. Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know. That no one else knows.”
She felt his fingers in her hair, deft, tender, and the words came from nowhere: “Sometimes, I’m so tired of fieldwork I just want to curl up and die.” She fell silent, amazed. She hadn’t even realized she felt that way. The words had just come out; she hadn’t consciously thought them.
“Do you mean that?” He sounded curious. “I thought you were practically made for it. And everyone I talk to uses the word legendary at least once whenever they talk about you. Why do you feel that way?”
She had them sometimes, if she was being super honest, second thoughts she normally batted back.
There might be something else for me.
All her life she had adapted to other people’s needs. She had no family of her own, nothing to keep her at home, not even a fixed job. She had placed a value on that, on always being able to leave, had always thought she wanted things that way. But had she really done it for her own sake? She barely dared consider the thought.
“I got taken prisoner once,” she said quietly, touching the golden ring in his nipple, sniffing at his skin. Was it possible to be addicted to the smell of someone? The taste? And what happened if you got addicted and then had to stop? Would life lose color and meaning? Or would the longing pass?
She could feel Alexander stare at her, knew he was shocked. “You never told me. When? Where?”
“Last fall. When I was in Liberia.”
“Jesus. So recently. What happened?”
“It was so quick,” she said slowly, didn’t want to remember how terrified she had been, completely at the kidnappers’ mercy. “I panicked, did everything wrong. They tied me and I was so scared. I was completely terrified—I’d never thought it would happen to me. They took me at a roadblock and drove off.”
“But were y
ou . . . ?”
Alexander fell silent, but she knew what he wanted to know. The thing people always wondered.
“Raped? No. They let me go as soon as they realized I was a doctor. They weren’t interested in me. It was chaos down there, so many different warring groups. It was a mistake.”
But during those hours she had spent with an automatic weapon pointed at her, she hadn’t been particularly strong. She shuddered involuntarily. One of the men had eaten oranges or tangerines and she still couldn’t smell that scent without being reminded of the kidnapping. Alexander’s arm around her tightened, and she curled up to him, reveling in the protective, almost possessive gesture.
“But why didn’t you tell me? It must have affected you.”
“I never talk about it. Only Leila knows. That was why she wanted to send me on the safety course. The strange thing was that when I had to be evacuated from Chad, lots of the fear came back. I don’t know, maybe I’m not cut out for this in the long run.”
“Maybe you want more from life?”
She closed her eyes again. God, she couldn’t talk to him about what she wanted from life. Not yet, not now.
She wanted a family. Children. Was that selfish? Wanting things for herself when she could be out there, making a difference to the world?
“I guess so,” she said. “Did I tell you about Marius?” Children like Marius were one of the many reasons she kept going. Because if she didn’t, then who?
“Yeah, you mentioned him.”
“He lives on the streets. He is only seven or eight, a small child, but he’s homeless, an orphan. Moves from place to place. He disappears sometimes. Other times he comes to the hospital. I met him when I was there last fall. There are plenty of kids I’ve been fond of, but then had to leave without knowing what happened to them. You never get used to it, but you learn to switch off. But for some reason, Marius is special.”
She had given him blood when she was there that fall. They weren’t allowed to do things like that, of course; there were rules. But he had been so ill, so wretched. There were no blood banks—you just asked the relatives if they had considered being donors. But since he was all alone in the world, no one could or would give blood to Marius, and when she realized that she and the boy had the same blood type, the decision had been easy. She had given him hers, and he had gotten better. Her blood literally ran through his veins now.
“He’s named after a Chadian soccer player. When I think of him, I know I have to keep working.”
“I don’t plan to argue with you, not now,” he said, and gave her a tender kiss. “You’re a complicated woman, Doctor Sørensen, and someone should have a serious talk with you. But not now. I’ve never felt as good as I do tonight. Anyway. The future has a way of working itself out.”
Isobel had no desire to end up in a discussion that couldn’t possibly end well either. Because, in contrast to Alexander, she knew that the future didn’t have a tendency to work itself out at all. Just the opposite, actually. Her experience was that after the good times, bad times invariably followed. And it was probably time for that all too soon, because things had been good for so long now.
“Is there anything to eat in this sex nest?”
Isobel nodded. They got up, drank tea and ate sandwiches in the kitchen. Talked about art, about films, and about travel. Then they made love again, calmly and tranquilly this time. In bed, beneath the covers. Deep kisses, soft movements. Cozy and intimate, completely free of kink. Afterward they just lay for a long time, gazing into each other’s eyes, and it didn’t feel even slightly corny. Alexander fell asleep before her, and she lay there awhile, just watching him. He looked different when he slept. Awake, he was always in motion, had such tremendous energy, but now he looked so peaceful. His dark eyebrows and lashes gave character to his golden face. She brushed his forehead with gentle fingers.
She was falling in love with this man. Really falling.
She knew it was stupid, that it was the last thing she had planned to do. But Alexander had a depth and a sensitivity that was impossible to resist. Developing serious feelings for a man notorious for his sexcapades was a quick route to heartache, she knew that, of course; she wasn’t stupid. But she could stop her feelings about as easily as she could stop a particularly virulent virus. Nature wasn’t kind. It was unrelenting and utterly lacking in compassion. You had to let things take their course, when it came to both viruses and love. If you were strong, you would survive without too much damage. Isobel pulled the covers up over them, moved closer to him, and closed her eyes. God, she hoped she was really strong. Because this had the potential to crush her.
Chapter 52
“I’m meeting Natalia and my mother for lunch today,” Alexander reluctantly said the next morning.
Isobel sat opposite him, her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. “I’m behind on a whole load of paperwork,” she said, giving him a languid smile. Her face was relaxed, and he wasn’t sure it would be humanly possible to drag himself away from her. He watched her as she absentmindedly studied the headlines on a leaflet. She had on a simple T-shirt today. The makeup was gone, the sexy dress packed away. He liked her even better this way. The things he had experienced in this apartment . . . What they’d shared . . . It was a completely unique experience.
He had done things with this woman that he’d never done before. Strange how closely linked to her he felt now.
He got up, rinsed his mug, and poured her more coffee from the machine.
“I’ll call you later,” he said, bending down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his nape, and he pulled her tightly to him. God, he didn’t want to go, wanted to stay here and kiss Isobel, make love, ignore other people’s expectations. But he had promised Natalia.
* * *
He walked down to Fotografiska, the Swedish Museum of Photography; arrived early, grabbed a table in their fancy restaurant, and immediately lapsed into thoughts of sex and Isobel.
“God, you look serious,” Natalia greeted him.
Alexander looked up. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed his sister arriving.
He stood up, gave her a hug, and then pulled out a chair for her.
“Mom is just parking the car. She’ll be here soon.”
“Parking? I didn’t even know she could drive.”
“I told you, she’s changing. Please, Alex could you try? Just a little? To not be so mad at her?”
He groaned. “Can we please talk about something else?”
“Sure.” Natalia smiled innocently. “How are things with Isobel?”
Christ, he should have known she would move on to that topic.
“Why are you asking?”
She surveyed him carefully. “You were down in Skåne together. And you seemed pretty affectionate at the wedding. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Quit stalling and tell me, are you together or not?”
Were they together, he and Isobel? Truthfully, Alexander had no idea, only knew that what he felt for her was starting to resemble an obsession. But he didn’t want to talk about Isobel, not with his nosy big sister. It was too private. Natalia would just sink her teeth in and start to rave about how he had to dare and a load of other carpe diem crap he didn’t want to hear.
And then she surprised him by gently saying:
“You’re so smart, Alexander. Don’t you want more than empty-headed bimbos and constant partying from life? For your own sake?”
He had never told Natalia that he worked in New York. Why? It was getting harder and harder to see the logic in that decision. But he had started to create distance between them at some point, and it had been easier to just continue that way. It was long past time to talk to her. Tell her what he had built up back in New York. It was deeply selfish to keep her in the dark. So what if she felt proud and told Mom, and everyone found out and he had nothing to hide behind anymore? He would just have to cope without his reputation as a playboy and a player. Was it so dangerous? W
asn’t he strong enough to carry a few expectations on his shoulders? He forced back a wave of panic when words like responsibility and adult began to dance in front of his eyes.
Were things moving too fast? Was he about to get tangled up in something far too complicated? And what did Isobel want from him? Could a woman like that ever take a man like him seriously? In the long run? Was he good for anything other than crazy-good sex?
“Here’s Mom,” Natalia said as she raised her hand in a wave.
Alexander sighed but adopted as polite a face as he could. He suspected this lunch was part of Natalia’s plan to bring him and Ebba closer together, so he would try to keep the hostilities to a minimum.
Their mother came toward them, swaying elegantly between chairs, pastel colored, slim and smooth. When Alexander was a boy, he’d thought she was the most beautiful woman on earth. Today, he could see the coldness and self-centeredness that her beauty didn’t quite manage to hide. And he was glad she was no longer an important-enough person in his life to be able to hurt him.
That was what people didn’t understand when they talked about closeness and intimacy as something desirable. Only if you cared about someone could you get hurt. Only if you loved someone could being abandoned crush you completely.
He stood up, gave his mother a brief nod, and then pulled out a chair for her, without offering a hug or a kiss on the cheek, even a shake of the hand. He could make an effort for Nat, but there were still limits.
“Thank you.”
Ebba sat down without a word about his lack of warmth, as though she was eager to keep him in a good mood. Well, that was at least a welcome change.
“I don’t think I’ve been here before,” she said.
“No, it’s on the wrong side of town. I guess you don’t normally come over here,” he drawled.
Natalia gave him a warning look. Ebba simply smiled and placed her napkin on her lap. She must have done something to her face. It was smoother than normal, not a wrinkle in sight though she was nearing sixty.
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