Spiral

by Mila Ferrera

  “I was trying to convince her I was up to the task,” he says.

  “Ha! He was telling me I had to find a way to get seven people here from Cape May,” my mom interrupts, putting her hands out to take two of the bottles. “And that I had to schedule my flight so I could get here from Madison without you knowing. He was very pushy.” She rolls her eyes, but her grin says she approves. “Typical doctor behavior.”

  Aron shrugs, acknowledging that she’s right. I haven’t seen him this happy or relaxed in a long time. That alone makes the party for me.

  When everything starts to wind down, people help clean up, refusing to leave Aron with all the work, which I appreciate. We say goodbye with hugs and see-you-tomorrows, seeing as it’s Sunday night, and tomorrow I start my post-doc. Once everyone’s gone, Aron walks me back to my apartment through Rittenhouse Square, carrying me piggyback along the lamplit walkways because my feet, as usual, are hurting.

  When we get to my apartment door, I put my hand on his chest, sleepy, happy, and wishing to high heaven he’d ask to come in. I let my head fall back and smile up at him. “Am I allowed to tell you how awesome you are?” I ask.

  “No, you should keep those things to yourself,” Aron says as grazes his knuckles across my cheek. “You had a good time?”

  “An amazing time.”

  “That’s all I wanted.” He puts his hand around the back of my neck and kisses me, sliding his tongue into my mouth in a sensuous way that makes me moan. His thumb caresses my throat while his other hand fists in my hair. It kindles that fire low in my belly, one that seems to be constantly smoldering these days. I put my hands on his hips and try to get him closer, but he stands firm and keeps our mouths the primary point of contact, leaving the rest of me on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Finally, he lifts his head, passion smoldering in his eyes. My heart kicks, waiting for his next words, hoping this is it, the night he asks if he can stay. But then he says, “See you tomorrow?”

  I sigh inwardly. “Yep. See you tomorrow.”

  He nods. Kisses me one more time. And leaves.

  I walk into my apartment, ready to bang my head against the wall. Instead, I take a long, hot shower, wondering if I should invest in a vibrator. I’m in my pajamas and just realizing I left my bag—which contains my toothbrush—in Aron’s trunk when the knock comes at the door. Cautiously, I walk to the peep hole.

  There’s a Viking in my hallway. Well, again, he’s not wearing a costume, but he does look like he stepped out of one of my fantasies. And he’s carrying the suitcase in question. I pull the door open. “You’re back.”

  “I am.” He sets the suitcase in my entryway. “And it looks like you’re headed for bed.”

  “That is what I tend to do in the wee hours of the morning when I’ve got work the next day.” My heart is beating really fast. “But—do you want to come in?”

  “I do, actually,” he says, but he looks a bit nervous. Unsure of himself.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “I love you,” he blurts.

  I blink. It’s the first time he’s said that to me since last November. But—“I know, Aron.”

  His eyebrows rise. “You do?”

  “Yeah,” I say, that sense of wonder and warmth blossoming in my chest. “I feel it. All the time. Every time you touch me or say my name. Every time you fuss over my feet. When you forced me to write my dissertation. When you slipped that letter into my luggage. Tonight, with the party. I know.”

  Aron takes my hand. “I never stopped loving you. But I haven’t felt strong or worthy enough to back it up, if that makes sense. You deserve so much, Nessa.”

  I squeeze his fingers. “But you give me so much. More than you realize.”

  He shrugs, skimming his thumb over the back of my hand. “Not as much as I want to.”

  “And how much is that?” I ask. We lock eyes.

  “All of me,” he says, and then gives me a sheepish smile. “Brain, heart … and body. No walls between us.”

  I clear my throat. “And … are there implications we should discuss?” Because my body is practically throbbing now that he’s back, looking hotter than is really fair, offering himself to me.

  “There might be, depending on how you feel about it.” He pulls me against his body.

  “I feel very enthusiastic,” I say, drawing in a sharp breath as his fingers slip under my waistband.

  That wicked smile appears. “Then perhaps we should negotiate the terms of your surrender.”

  I slide my hand under his shirt, over the ridges of his abs and chest. “I’d say something about driving a hard bargain, but that just seems too obvious.”

  He laughs. And then tugs my shirt over my head.

  Everything feels different this time. It’s not frantic, not frenzied. We take our time undressing each other, and we climb into my bed naked and eager, but also uncertain. It’s been months since we did this, but it feels like years, like it happened a world away. The Aron who is here now is different. Older, sadder, stronger, even though he often feels broken. And I love him more than I loved him then. I love him for who he was and who he has become, for what he’s survived, and for all the things that haven’t changed at all.

  After so many months and days apart, we map each other with tongue and teeth and fingers, until we are both shaking and panting. He kisses me like he understands ‘we’ and accepts it. He finally retrieves a small package of condoms from his jeans pocket. “I came back prepared,” he murmurs.

  I snatch it from his hand. “Allow me,” I say, reaching for him. And when I’m done, he moves onto his back and pulls me on top of him. The feel of his hard shaft beneath me is almost too much, and when he cups my rear and pulls my legs apart to straddle him, I whisper, “Please be inside of me, Aron.”

  “I accept your terms,” he says, and I laugh, but it ends in a gasp as he finds my opening and thrusts upward. The sensation is overwhelming, and both of us pause for a moment and stare at each other. The look in Aron’s eyes is only for me, all for me, like coming home after a long, hard-fought battle, relief and tenderness and fierce need. With my hands on his chest and his on my hips, we move slow, hard, holding tight and trembling. Neither of us looks away, because the walls are gone. I want to see everything, and I want him to see what he does to me, how our friction unwinds me, how the feel of him inside of me takes me apart. And he does, watching my face, tilting my body just so, pushing himself deep. I fall forward as I come undone, and he catches me, muffling my screams of ecstasy with his kisses.

  With my limbs going loose and my body still spasming around him, Aron rolls me over and flexes his hips, pinning me to the mattress. My legs fall open as he drives into me, shaking the entire bed. I brace myself against the wall as he gives himself over to the pleasure, as he loses himself in me. I stare at his face until his head falls to my shoulder. When he bites the sensitive spot at the base of my neck, I cry out again, urging him on as I let go of the wall and dig my nails into his lower back. With a hoarse groan, he slams into me and his body goes rigid, and I grind against him to wring every shiver of sensation from both of us.

  As he collapses onto me, I welcome him, wrapping my legs over his hips, my arms around his neck, wanting this moment to be my forever. Aron shifts onto his back again, lying with me on his chest. His hands trail down my spine as his heart thumps heavily against my breasts. “I want this,” he says softly. “Every day.”

  “The sex? Done.”

  He chuckles. “More than that, Nessa.” His fingers spread between my shoulder blades. “Everything.”

  “I accept your terms,” I reply, kissing a spot right over his heart, which I know to be mine.

  “But what if I …” He sighs. “Never mind.”

  I look up at him. “Can I answer your unspoken ‘what if,’ with ‘I’ll be there’? Would that be enough?”

  “Forget ‘enough.’ I’m afraid it’s too much.”

  I inch up and kiss his jaw. He’s going to ha
ve to get over that. But then I remember my mother told me how waking up next to my dad every day helped him trust a little more. “What if I answered with ‘I’ll be with you tomorrow,’ and we take it day by day?”

  “That sounds more realistic.”

  “Okay,” I say, propping myself up on an elbow so my face is over his. “I love you, Aron, and I’m offering you tomorrow. We will discuss a continuation of these terms at that time.” I kiss him, nipping playfully at his bottom lip.

  His eyes closed, he grins. “Very well. I love you, Nessa, and I accept your tomorrow.” He opens his eyes, and when he speaks again, his voice is full of emotion. “And in return, I’ll give you everything I have to offer, brain, heart, and body.”

  Tears prick beneath my eyelids as I kiss him, taking this gift for what it is. I would promise him all of my tomorrows right now if he let me. But this, I realize, the vow of one day at a time, is what we have. It feels scarier, because the illusion of security is gone, but it also feels more real, less burdened by the pressure of forever after. We taste each other now, we touch and caress, we whisper our adoration, and we embrace today. And then, freed from a cage of our own making, we fall asleep in each other’s arms.