Chapter 30 Amara
AMARA
I get off the phone with Bella and let out a sigh.
It’s not that I don’t believe her. I’ve seen people in the shadows too. And unfortunately for me, it wasn’t just over exhaustion and paranoia. Which is exactly what has me paranoid right now.
If she had told me a year ago that she was seeing things, I would have chalked it up to hormones.
Or the fact that our end of town wasn’t exactly a picket fence neighborhood complete with HOA.
But with the reality of what’s going on in our world right now, it’s not hard to believe that her monsters might not be make-believe.
I let it go for now. I really need food. Something that isn’t creamed and poured into a Styrofoam cup and slapped with a ten-dollar price tag.
I could use a bath, too. Prenatal yoga might be gentle—quote unquote—but it’s not exactly easy. Every muscle in my body is throbbing. Not to mention the little man is starting to get heavy.
I go to type in the door code to the estate, but it turns green.
Already open?
Honestly, after the conversation I just had with my sister, I am a little on edge. So I make a point of walking through the foyer very carefully.
But when I come to the opening, I stop, my shoulders relaxing.
“Ransome,” I say before looking at the time. Five o’clock. That’s early for him to be home. Well, this isn’t even home. But if it were, and he lived with me and not… her… it would still be early.
“How was yoga?” he asks as he buzzes around the kitchen.
Suddenly, my stomach growls so deeply that it’s actually audible.
“What are you doing?” I ask. I’m lost. I’m also getting a whiff of what looks like sizzling steak fajitas, and I am literally drooling as I shed off my yoga mat and slip out of my shoes and pad over to the kitchen to get a closer look. Or maybe a taste.
“I’m making dinner,” he says, like it’s obvious.
“I see that.” I reach for a tortilla chip and drag it though a bowl of fresh guac. The flavors of avocado and onion and chili and fresh lime burst in my mouth, and I am in heaven. “But why are you here?” I ask around a full mouth.
Ransome smirks a little. “I mean, I do own this house too.”
Since he gives me another Captain Obvious answer, I give him a look and wait for the answer he knows I am actually fishing for but am too hungry and tired to ask.
“I wanted to see you,” he says.
Bingo.
I smirk. “Really?” It comes out low, sultry.
He loads up two plates with warm tortillas, grilled steak strips, peppers, onions, and cheese. “Really.” He takes them to the table and I follow, the bowl of guac in one hand and the bowl of chips in the other. “Do I have to have a reason to want to see you?”
“I suppose not.”
I dive into the food immediately, melting in the chair as I chew. As if it’s not enough for him to be hot and rich and stellar in the sack. No, he had to be a great cook, too.
“How is it?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know.
I answer by giving a chef’s kiss while chewing. It earns me a second smirk. I’m not really sure what I did to earn this treatment, but I’ll take it. I’ll take it all day long.
“So, how’s the baby?” he asks after we both finish our first fajita.
“Big,” I say, and he smiles.
“That’s good, right?”
“I mean, yes, but at some point he’s going to have to come out of me, so I’d like it if he paced himself a little.”
“You’re going to do fine. You’re strong. And he’s a Rozanov, so he is too.”
I smile at that.
I may not be his wife. I may not be a Bratva woman. But the heir growing inside me is a Rozanov, and Ransome knows it. That’s worth a hell of a lot more than a diamond ring to me.
I offer to take the plates to the kitchen sink when we are finished, but immediately Ransome gets up and takes over.
“I’m pregnant, not helpless,” I tell him with my hands on my hips. As if being stubborn about it is going to make him stop.
“And I’m being protective, not controlling,” he shoots back. “So go run a bath.”
I open my mouth to say something sassy, but nothing comes out.
Ransome raises his eyebrows, then points at the stairs towards the bathroom with the glorious tub. The one that covers my knees, my belly and my boobs all at the same time.
And there’s no fighting with that.
I make my way up the stairs and run the water in the tub. Meanwhile, I can hear Ransome cleaning up the kitchen downstairs. I seriously don’t know what’s gotten into him or if there is a catch, but I could definitely get used to this.
After lighting a couple of candles, I slide into the rose-scented tub and bask in the oils and warm water. I can’t wait for the day that I can sink into a tub of hot, hot water again. But for now, this is good enough. Luxurious even.
A moment later, Ransome walks in and begins to undress.
“What’s this about?” I ask as he lets his clothes fall to the bathroom tile, piece by piece.
“I’m giving you a massage,” he informs me as the last of his clothing is discarded.
“Naked?” I give him a coy smile.
“It’s easier to do if I’m in the tub with you, is it not?” he asks. And while I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ransome take a bath, let alone with rose oil and a bath bomb, I am not about to argue with him.
Ransome steps into the tub and sits behind me, pulling me against his chest. I close my eyes and lean back, letting all of the stress run out of my body. He kneads my shoulder, massaging my neck on the way, and I feel myself turn to putty against him.
“That feels amazing,” I murmur.
“Good,” he says, his voice sexy and low. “You deserve it.”
“Mm,” I respond softly as I do my best to let everything go. To not worry about everything. But the conversation with Bella creeps back into the forefront of my mind.
Ransome must feel the tension in me as the thoughts swirl in my head, because he questions me.
“What is it? What are you thinking about?”
I hesitate before answering. “I had a smoothie with Electra today,” I tell him.
“How was that?” he asks as his hands work magic on my shoulders.
“It was good.”
“That wasn’t very convincing.”
“I mean, it was kind of bland.”
“The company or the smoothie? Because I for one have never been a fan,” he teases, and I crack an eye open with a smile.
“Of Electra or smoothies?” I ask.
“Both,” he says, and I swat his knee under the water.
“The smoothie was lackluster, but I choked it down because it’s good for the baby,” I tell him.
“Good girl.”
I shudder, my nipples getting hard just from two little words.
“So… Electra is seeing someone,” I go on.
“Who’s the flavor of the week?” he asks.
“Actually, she’s been seeing him for a while. Around six months or so, which is unheard of for her.” I roll my head to the other side so he’ll switch his neck massaging to the left now. God, this is glorious.
“Six months, huh? Okay, let me rephrase—who’s the chump?”
“His name is Sean.” He earns himself another swat, though I am smiling. “I’m happy for her. But…”
“But?”
“I don’t know, Ransome. I have a weird feeling about this guy.”
“Well, he is dating her.”
I ignore that comment entirely. “I’m serious. She won’t tell me much about him, other than he’s rich.”
“Of course.”
“And he lovebombs her hard. Expensive gifts and things like that. But I don’t think he actually comes around much, which seems sketchy. And she can’t show me a picture because he doesn’t have social media. But also, Electra is the kind of girl that would take selfies with her man, you know?”
“Ugh,” he groans. And I really don’t feel like he understands the concern.
“I don’t know. I just have this really uneasy feeling about him,” I pause, biting my lip. “I also talked to Bella today.”
“Oh? And how are they all doing?” he asks. His hands are massaging the front of my shoulders, making their way lower and lower, easing muscles I didn’t know needed to be eased—and making other parts of my anatomy way tenser.
“They’re alright. But Bella has been seeing people. Men, I mean. Like in the shadows.”
He frowns. “Nightmares?”
“Nightmares and when she’s awake,” I say.
“I’m sure she’s just a little paranoid.”
Ransome says it causally, but the word hits me wrong. Paranoid sounds like crazy and I know she’s not crazy.
“I don’t know. I think it could be real. I’m really kind of worried about them. What if people are following them? Spying on them?”
“We don’t know that. No one on my end knows where they even are. So I doubt the Chadovichs—”
“I don’t think we should underestimate Tristan,” I cut him off and he stops massaging.
I’m worried he’s annoyed or pissed, but his lips press to my neck and his tone stays calm. Low. Preoccupied.
“Tristan has too much going on to worry about your family, dorogoya,” he says. “And I think you’re overworrying too. You need to keep your stress levels down, remember?”
Ransome suckles on my neck, and while it has me pretty hot, it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m worried and he’s just brushing it all off.
“That’s kind of hard to do when I’m concerned about the people I love,” I tell him, doing my best not to be turned on.
“Well, maybe I can ease your mind,” he says. “Among other things…”
With that, his hand runs down my shoulder, over my breast, taking a second to tease my nipple under the water.
I gasp. The skin is so sensitive there, now that I’m so far along. I’ve always been weak about my nipples, but the way he touches them now, exploiting every sign of weakness, has me nearly moaning just from that.
It’s just like Ransome to do this. To sniff out my weak spots and turn them into something beautiful. Something that gives me pleasure instead of pain.
His hand travels further south, over my belly, my hip, my thigh.
And then—
“Ransome,” I moan as his fingers find me.
My knees part instinctively. He runs his fingers along my slit, teasing my opening briefly before rubbing back up again. Over and over he takes his time, swirling his fingertips, making my hips tilt upward. I want more contact, need more pressure. More of him.
He teases me by skirting around my clit, not quite touching it each time he strokes. Beneath me, I can feel his dick, stiff and hard against my back. I want it. But I also want this. His hands are just as skilled. If he stops, I might actually die.
“You need to trust me, dorogoya.”
“I do,” I moan, grinding my pussy into his hand.
“I don’t feel like you do,” he says. His fingertip barely brushes over my clit, making me whimper and shudder in need. “I promise that nothing is going to happen to anyone you love. Nothing is going to happen to you or the baby. Blood would spill if anyone even considered it.”
“Okay.” I swallow hard as he teases my opening without actually putting his finger inside of me. Normally, he probably would, but considering I’m pregnant and we’re under water, it’s probably not the best idea. Still, if he would just get to the point…
“You’re going to trust me, then?”
I nod. Wiggle my body in hopes of his finger hitting the right spot. Of course, Ransome is not a dense man—he knows what I’m doing.
So he strokes again, purposely missing my clit by a millimeter.
“Ransome…” I plead.
“Say it,” he snaps. “Say you trust me.”
“I trust you,” I whisper.
Those words must be the secret password or part of it, because finally, his pointer finger grazes my clit. It sends a jolt through my body and heat through my thighs.
But he isn’t giving me everything yet.
“Why do you trust me?” he asks, and I can feel his finger hovering.
“Because I’m yours,” I say, and those are the words. The other half of the password that earns me that finger.
And it is glorious.
My hands grip his legs. My nails dig into his skin. His finger flutters over my clit, knowing exactly where and how to work its magic.
“Who do you belong to?” he demands again.
“You,” I moan as he continues to flick and rub. My hips are literally grinding against his hand. I need more. I need him to keep going, to keep teasing, to get me off.
I. Need. To. Come.
“Ransome,” I beg.
“Are you going to come for me, kotyonek?” he asks, clearly amused.
“I’m trying,” I say as I writhe in the water.
“Don’t fucking try,” he growls. “Do it.”
The moment his words come out of his mouth, his fingers begin to move. And I go from riding the edge to thrusting over the top of it.
“Oh fuck!” I let out. “Oh God. Don’t stop!”
“Is someone having multiple orgasms?” he teases.
“Fuck…”
He continues to flick until I am arched over him. The orgasms—yes, plural—ripple through me over and over again.
Turns out, forgetting my problems isn’t so hard after all.