Cravings of the Heart (Trials of Fear Book 5)

by Nicky James

  I’d say my stomach hurt already. My guts twisted and knotted, but I knew it was only a response to my mind spinning out of control. I wasn’t sick. I hadn’t eaten anything yet.

  I remembered the hospital stay and the countless reminders of how I was slowly killing myself, so I pushed the trepidation down and nodded briskly.

  Iggy tossed me the half-empty loaf of bread, knowing I’d need to thoroughly examine it: check the expiration date, smell it, and visually inspect each tiny inch for mold. Then he pulled a jar of raspberry jam from the fridge.

  My brain went on a rampage, listing all the things I knew about food poisoning. Jam was too high in acid to cause botulism. But what about other things? I desperately wanted to search it up on my phone but clung to my pant legs instead.

  Iggy reached out for the bread, silently asking if it was okay to start the toast. I let it go and picked up the jam instead. I turned it in my hands, over and over. Stared at the expiration date. Opened it and flinched at the smell, willing myself not to heave. I studied the contents, repelled by the tiny crumbs from previous use. I recapped it and held it in a tight fist, glared at it like it was a jar of maggots and not ordinary preserves most people used safely every day.

  The tremors inside my body wouldn’t stop, and tears blurred my vision when Iggy reached for it. I couldn’t let go of the jar and give it to him. The idea of eating it tore me to shreds.

  The toast popped, and I jumped. A sob passed my lips unexpectedly, and I fell against Iggy’s chest. He cradled me to his side and kissed my temple, tugging the jar from my steel grip, encouraging me to release it. I let go with another unstoppable sob.

  “Just like the first time you drank Ensure. One step at a time. I’ll be here, mi corazón. Always.”

  I nodded against his shoulder before letting him go. He coated the toast with a thin sheen of jam and cut it into quarters before plating it. Taking my hand, he guided me to a chair. Iggy sat first and tugged me onto his lap. His arms wrapped around me, and he nuzzled my neck.

  “I’m right here.”

  One stupid piece of toast and it held all the power over me. I didn’t want to be a prisoner to my fear anymore.

  Familiar with the drill and the overwhelming anxiety of the task, I took my time, breathing and trying not to think about what I was doing.

  Somehow, I made it through and ate the whole piece of toast—not without breaking down when it was over. I’d learned it was my body’s way of releasing tension after such a huge ordeal.

  After, Iggy dragged me down the hall to the bathroom. He stripped us both of our clothes and started the shower. I felt the furthest thing from sexy, but Iggy’s only goal seemed to be to soothe me, relax me, and help me forget the rotting feeling in my gut.

  We held each other close under the hot rainfall. Iggy smoothed a hand over my back and kissed my head. I knew he’d worked all night and was tired. The last thing he needed was needy me who was incapable of holding myself together because of jam.

  Stupid jam.

  Iggy didn’t seem to care. He washed my hair, kissed my lips, and soaped my body head to toe. When my nether region took interest, he smiled and continued massaging my balls and stroked my length a few times.

  “Now he takes notice.” I laughed, burying my face against his wet chest and brushed my nose against his chest hairs.

  “Maybe since it’s been a month, things are leveling out in your system. You’re eating a lot more. You’ve gained more weight.”

  “Or maybe I’m just that horny because my boyfriend has been working nights and I’ve barely seen him.”

  He stroked me, keeping his pace slow and steady. I moaned and thrust into his palm, no longer worried about anything else except the tingle coursing over my skin.

  Iggy was just as hard when he pressed against my abdomen. A little fondling swiftly turned into heavy kissing. Touches burned hotter in my core, and I craved more. I craved all of him.

  “Iggy,” I panted. “Let’s get out. I want you… I want you inside me.”

  We hadn’t gone there yet, but I couldn’t wait another day.

  He groaned and pressed closer. “Me too. I want that.”

  He sucked a welt into my collar as he reached behind and shut off the water.

  We took no time getting dried off and stumbled into his bedroom, falling naked onto his bed. His hands and mouth were all over me, and I surrendered, loving the way he worshiped every part of me, uncaring that I was too thin and too small. Every kiss and touch showed tenderness and swelled my heart to bursting. He was mine. I’d known it since I was ten years old.

  Iggy Rojas would always be mine.

  Reaching blindly, Iggy found a condom and lube in a bedside drawer. Our mouths fused together. Lying side by side, Iggy hitched one of my legs over his waist and fondled my hole, massaging and applying pressure but not penetrating.

  “You sure you want this?” he asked into our kiss.

  “Please. I want you inside me. Always have.”

  Iggy groaned and rocked his hips, forcing our lengths to glide together. The sensation was staggering. The snick of the lube bottle opening sent a shiver through my body, and I arched against him, sticking my ass out further and inviting more.

  For a moment, the pressure was gone, but when his fingers returned to my opening, they were slick with lube, and he wasted no time sinking one inside my body. I broke from his mouth and moaned, tipping my head back. He latched onto my neck, licking and tasting along my throat as he worked me open.

  When I couldn’t take anymore, my body writhing and shivering with need, I rolled onto my back, taking Iggy with me.

  “I need you,” I begged, kissing him hard and biting at his bottom lip.

  He knelt and worked the condom over his length as he watched me with stormy eyes. Smoothing his hands up my legs, he encouraged me to hold my knees back and settled between my thighs. Hovering above me, a hairbreadth from my mouth, his tip tapped my opening.

  Labored breaths puffed across my face as he studied my eyes. “Tell me if it doesn’t feel good. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.”

  I’d only done this once before, but I trusted Iggy and knew he’d make it good.

  Lining up, he braced himself on one arm and entered me. I felt every slow inch as he joined us together. When he bottomed out, we stayed unmoving for a long time, treasuring the moment and kissing.

  Soon, I needed more. We both needed more.

  There were no words. My heart was set to burst, and by the way Iggy looked into my eyes, I thought he felt the same. He rocked, slowly at first, taking his time and finding that sweet spot that tore moans from my throat.

  “Mi corazón,” he whispered.

  I touched his face, traced his lips and cheekbones as we moved together. It was far more intimate than I ever expected. Far more powerful than anything I’d felt in my life.

  “My heart,” I repeated in English.

  He smiled. It was pure and open and mine.

  All mine.

  Before long, intimacy turned to desperation as we did everything to be closer. Our pleasures built and rocked us from sensual to aggressive as we chased our orgasms.

  Iggy snapped his hips faster until we were both panting and sweating and groaning.

  Our kisses became sloppy and uncoordinated, but they never stopped. Everything inside me buzzed to life as the pressure grew to unthinkable levels. I teetered on the edge, desperately needing release. Iggy knew and brought his hand between us. All it took was a few tugs, and I arched my back, crying out as I spilled between us.

  Iggy took me through every wave.

  For a moment, I thought the intensity would make me black out. Iggy must have been concerned too. He cradled me as I came down, rocking gently into my body.

  “I’m okay,” I panted. I took his face and tugged him into a kiss.

  It didn’t take long for him to pick up the rhythm again. Then, he jerked one last time and stilled as his orga
sm rolled over him. He shuddered and held me tight, groaning into my mouth as he filled the condom.

  It was surreal. Unbelievable.

  Iggy Rojas just fucked me into the mattress!

  I was deliriously happy and didn’t even complain when he collapsed on top of me, crushing me with his full weight.

  We fell asleep tangled together and didn’t wake up again until just shortly after noon. Or rather, I woke and Iggy slept on.

  Nuzzling into his neck, I wormed against him, seeking friction and bathing in his scent. He groaned and tugged me closer, but his eyes wouldn’t open.

  “Still tired,” he mumbled.

  “I know, but you need to flip your internal schedule. You can’t sleep all day.”

  He didn’t respond, but I knew he was still awake because he drew lazy circles over my bare back, dipping lower with every pass to fondle my ass.

  He hummed and rubbed his nose along my collar. “How did your fitting, or whatever it was called, go with Bryn the other day?”

  “It didn’t. She never showed up and didn’t text me back until the next day. Then she sounded off and made up some lame excuse about having to feed her roommate’s cat. Not sure what’s up with her but she’s been acting strange the past few weeks.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “Yeah, and normally I’d confront her at Mom and Dad’s during Sunday brunch, but I haven’t been invited since I left the hospital.”

  Iggy squeezed me tighter in his arms. “I’m sorry your family is being that way.”

  “Whatever. If they can’t accept I’m gay, then it’s their loss.”

  “We should get up. You need to eat again, and I need to not sleep anymore.”

  Neither of us moved, and Iggy’s breathing deepened.

  “Or we could stay in bed all day and do other things.” I rutted against his leg again, encouraged by the fact that my body was actively agreeing with my suggestion.

  Turned out, Iggy didn’t take much convincing. He rolled on top of me and proceeded to turn me inside out with pleasure.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Arden

  “Higher stress in your daily life will inevitably affect your progress. I don’t want you to be hard on yourself when that happens, but I do want you to be aware. In your case, your health is a major factor in your phobia. Setbacks could lead to hospitalization or worse,” Dr. Kelby explained.

  “I know. I was doing so well. Now I seem to get worked up so much easier and then I can’t fight the urge to puke everything up after eating it. I don’t want to. My stomach just feels extra sensitive.”

  “Every time we introduce new foods, it will be easier than the last. Maybe this just isn’t the week to do it. Returning to school, the pressure of having lost your parents’ support, this project you’ve been telling me about. It adds up. How are you feeling about living with Phoenix?”

  I ducked my head and smiled, fidgeting with the strings on my hoodie. “I don’t stay there much anymore. Since Iggy returned to day shift, I’ve basically been at his house every night.”

  “So another change?”

  “A good one, though. Iggy is really supportive. Not that Phoenix isn’t, but I felt intrusive in his life.”

  “Okay. So let’s look forward. Right now, you have your standard meals which include your meal replacement drinks. You tried jam once, but our plan to introduce berries into your diet this week has been a flop.”

  “Fresh berries have been recalled so many times for salmonella. It’s all I can think about when I try to eat them.”

  “It was your idea to try berries, remember?”

  “I know.” I buried my face in my hands and blew out a breath. “I ate jam so I thought it would be the logical next step. You suggested I pick a fruit or vegetable.”

  “Arden, the idea of bringing foods back into your diet is to help make you stronger. It won’t be easy because you’ve armed yourself with a world of knowledge that is working against you. I suggested exploring other food groups. There will probably be some things you’ll never be able to eat again.”

  “Like the foods that can cause botulism.”

  Those foods lived in an iron vault, and I would never again go near them.

  “So if you choose a new food, and it doesn’t go well, try something else. Don’t let yourself be defeated day in and day out. Maybe one day, trying yogurt will work for you. Another day, it might be cheese or eggs.”

  My eyes bulged. Eggs were a hard no as well.

  “Or jam,” she amended, seeing my reaction. “My suggestion isn’t to bring foods in one at a time, it’s to be brave enough every day to try adding new things. It’s about taking back control. Controlling your fears and not letting them control you. Let’s try something different. I want you to keep a food journal for me. Instead of forcing yourself to eat something new every day, let’s focus on hitting a calorie limit. Here’s the catch. Every day, your meal plan should include seven different foods. Your choice. Aim for seven. That leaves it a little more flexible.”

  Seven.

  It didn’t sound daunting, but when I considered I only had six things on my menu that felt safe, it was a big step. Seven meant a new thing every day.

  My choice, though. Like jam. I could do it. Maybe.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good. Let’s talk about your coping mechanisms now.”

  My appointments with Dr. Kelby were comfortable. She was kind yet firm in her approach. I didn’t shy away from telling her when I wasn’t doing well, and she listened and understood.

  After my appointment, I headed to work for my five o’clock shift. September was still a busy wedding time, and I spent almost every day after class working the closing shift.

  That day, I was supposed to be meeting with Bryn after hours. We had yet to get together for a fitting, and my irritation was growing. She was avoiding me, and I couldn’t figure out why. This was her last chance to show up. Otherwise, I’d be forced to find another friend to model for me.

  Iggy planned to pick me up at ten, and since it was a Friday night, we were heading directly to the movies for a late show. Like I’d told Dr. Kelby, Iggy and I were spending way more time together lately. Without calling attention to it, I’d kind of moved into his apartment over the past two weeks.

  I lost myself in alterations and fittings over the course of my shift. By closing time, Matilda wandered into the back room and eyed the loose pieces of the gown I was putting together in my corner workspace. She thumbed the stitching I’d been working on and nodded.

  “Your embroidery work is exceptional, Arden. Look at this beading you’ve woven in. I’m impressed. I’m looking forward to seeing the completed piece.”

  I grinned, pride swelling in my chest. “It will be amazing. I just hope I can get it done on time.”

  She picked up a few of my sketches and studied them with a smile before laying them down again. “Well, I’m going to head home. Are you staying to work more?”

  “Yeah. My sister is supposed to be here so I can get measurements and move forward. Iggy is going to pick me up later.”

  “Sounds good. See you tomorrow after class.”

  “Yup.”

  Matilda collected her handbag and sweater before heading out the back door. I tidied up my station and plucked my phone from my pocket, checking to see if Bryn had texted.

  Bryn: omw b there in 5

  She’d sent the text almost ten minutes ago, so I poked my head out the back door and scanned. It was dark in the lot, but Bryn’s car was the only one present. She sat in the driver’s seat, dabbing her eyes and staring off into space.

  I frowned. She looked upset.

  Was she crying?

  A second later, she pulled herself together and fixed her hair while glancing in the rearview mirror. While she turned to grab her purse, I slipped back inside. She hadn’t seen me, and I didn’t think I was meant to witness that display of emotion.

  What was going on with my sister?


  A few minutes later, Bryn knocked on the door, and I let her in.

  “Hey,” she said, glancing around and setting her purse on a table. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Hey. Glad you could make it.”

  Nothing. No response.

  Something was wrong. I’d never known Bryn to be anything but bubbly and chipper. Today, she was closed off and surrounded by gloom.

  “I can make this fast if you’re busy,” I said, grabbing my tape measure from the table. “I just need a few measurements for the initial phase, then later down the road, I’ll fit the gown on you and make the fine-tuning adjustments.”

  Bryn stared at the table where the pieces of my project were draped. Her lower lip quivered, and she sucked it in her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.

  “Bryn? What’s the matter?”

  Shaking out of her daze, she sniffled and turned to me. Her watery green eyes looked so broken and sad. “I can’t model for you.”

  “Okay.” I took her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll find someone else. It’s not a big—”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  My words fell away and my jaw unhinged.

  Pregnant? What the…

  Before I could order my thoughts and absorb what she said, Bryn let it all go and blubbered everything in a long run-on sentence between sobs.

  “I missed my period two weeks ago. I took a test, and it came back positive. I told Chad, and he broke up with me. He won’t answer his phone, and when I went to his house, he told me he wanted nothing to do with me. I’m six weeks along, and by the time your fashion show comes up, I’ll be showing and won’t fit in your dress. I can’t tell Mom and Dad because they’ll disown me, and I can’t have an abortion because I can’t do that to a tiny little life. I just can’t. I can’t, Arden. But how am I going to raise a baby? I have a low paying job, no husband, and I live with three other people. I’m too young for this. I don’t want to have a baby right now. Arden, I messed up. I messed up big time. What am I going to do?” She choked on a sob and collapsed against me, soaking my shoulder and vibrating with more heart-wrenching cries than I knew what to do with.