31. Amara
Amara
I wake to warmth enveloping me from behind. I know it’s Dom’s strong arms wrapped around my waist, and his chest pressed against my back. His breath is warm against my neck, coming in steady rhythms that tell me he’s still asleep.
The morning light filters through a gap in the curtains, casting a slither of sunlight down the wall I’m staring at as I wonder how I can get out of his bed without waking him.
I try to move, but his thick thigh is draped over mine, keeping me locked in place. Against my backside, I feel the unmistakable hardness of his morning erection pressing between my legs.
“Have you taken a test?” His deep voice startles me.
“You’re awake,” I say, my heart skipping a beat.
“I’ve been awake for hours thinking about it.”
I shift slightly, feeling the weight of his body against mine. “And you’re still holding me like this. I thought you didn’t like sleeping in a bed with anyone else.”
His arms tighten around me. “You’re not anyone.”
He lowers his head, and his soft lips press against my shoulder blade. His touch ignites something primal inside me.
The sensation sending shivers down my spine as he trails kisses up to the nape of my neck.
“You were going to give me to Caleb, but now what?” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady despite the desire coursing through me.
His hand splays across my stomach, possessively or protectively, I’m not sure which—probably both. “You’re mine. I’m not giving you up.”
Heat pools between my legs at his declaration, and I arch my back slightly, pressing against him.
His words should frighten me, but instead, they make me feel safe. Wanted. Still, there’s another face that flashes in my mind, another pair of hands I crave.
“I want Caleb too,” I admit, the words hanging between us.
Dom’s movements pause for a moment. Then he gently turns me over on the bed until I’m facing him. His blue eyes are intense as they search mine, looking for something I’m not sure I can give until he gives me what I want.
“Let me think about it,” he says finally, his thumb tracing my bottom lip.
Heat blisters my cheeks as Dom’s eyes bore into mine. He’s always intense, but never has it felt so unrelenting.
His gaze drops to my lips, lingering there as his thumb continues to trace the outline of my mouth.
“Do you know what I’ve been thinking about?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave lower.
I shake my head, my breath catching in my throat.
He leans forward, closing the distance between us until his lips are just a whisper away from mine. “I’ve been thinking about watching Caleb eat you out, and how I’ve wanted to do it to you ever since.”
“You liked watching us?”
“You know I have cameras everywhere, Amara,” he says, his lips brushing against mine as he speaks. “I think you wanted me to catch you. You wanted me to see you coming on his tongue.” His hand slides down my body, possessively gripping my hip. “Do you know what it did to me, Amara?”
I swallow hard as I shake my head. He’s about to get annoyed with me for being so brazen in his home. He is going to get cross with me being with his best friend.
“Angry but turned on,” he continues, his voice husky with desire. “Watching my friend make you come. Watching as you looked into the camera at me...”
“I–”
He chuckles. “You know you did.” He kisses my jaw, his mouth moving lower, trailing fire down my neck. “But now it’s my turn.”
His lips continue their descent, leaving a trail of fervent kisses down my collarbone, between my breasts, and my back arches involuntarily as his mouth moves lower, his hands gripping my thighs.
“Tell me you want this,” he demands, his breath hot against my skin. “Beg for my tongue, piccola.”
“Please,” I whisper. “I want your mouth on me.”
Dom’s eyes darken with desire, but he shakes his head. “Not good enough.”
I swallow my pride, my need for him overwhelming any hesitation. “Please, Dom. I need your tongue. I need to feel you taste me.” My fingers clutch at his shoulders, pulling him closer. “I’m begging you to own me.”
A deep, approving growl rumbles from his chest. The sound vibrates through me, making my core clench with anticipation.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs against my inner thigh, his hot breath teasing my sensitive skin there, but I want his mouth higher.
His large hands push my thighs further apart, exposing me completely to his hungry gaze.
I should be embarrassed, vulnerable, yet I feel nothing but powerful under his attention.
When his tongue finally makes contact, lightly grazing my clit, my entire body convulses.
“Oh.” The thrill is so intense, so immediate, that my back arches off the bed.
And when he sucks my clit, stars explode behind my eyelids.
He hums against me; the vibration sending another wave of desire crashing through me.
“Mmm,” he moans appreciatively, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting mine. “If you want both of us, piccola, you need to understand something.” His thumb circles my clit as he speaks, keeping me on edge. “Caleb and I will own this body. Sometimes separately, sometimes together. But you’ll have to agree to be ours completely.”
The thought of both men taking me at once sends a rush of heat through my body. I moan loudly, unable to contain my reaction.
“You like that idea?” Dom asks, a knowing smirk on his face. “You want both of us worshipping this perfect body?”
“Yes,” I gasp as his tongue slides along my slit again, slow and deliberate.
I thread my fingers through his dark hair, urging him closer, wanting more of his skilled mouth. He obliges, his tongue circling my clit before sucking it gently between his lips.
My hips buck against his face as pleasure builds inside me. Just as I’m about to topple over the edge, he pulls away, leaving me gasping and desperate.
“Not yet,” he whispers against my thigh, placing soft kisses there while I whimper. “I want to savor this.”
I slip into my bedroom, still feeling the ghost of Dom’s touch on my skin. The house is quiet now that he’s gone to his meeting, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Last night I left my diary on the nightstand while I went for water, and now it is beckoning me. I pick it up, flipping through the pages until I find what I’m looking for. My handwriting stares back at me.
Mom is arguing with Dom again. He offered her $5 million to get on with her life and leave us alone. She laughed in his face. Said she deserves more for what she’s been through.
What the hell…five million, though.
I frown, remembering Dom’s words from last night. “Helena isn’t your mother, piccola. Aurora Moretti is.”
The name sits heavily in my mind. Aurora Moretti. My real mother.
I grab my laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as I type her name into the search bar. The results load, and my heart stutters.
Every article, every link shows the same thing:
“Aurora Moretti, Italian Syndicate Leader, Found Dead.”
“Moretti Family Massacre Ends with Leader’s Death.”
“Italian Mafia Boss Assassinated.”
My hands tremble as I click through the articles. Pictures of crime scenes. Mentions of her being in hiding before her death. I would have been around one-year-old when she died.
This can’t be right. This dead mafia leader cannot be my mother.
I slam the laptop shut, my breathing coming faster now. I need to talk to Milly about this. She might remember something I don’t. Because Dom has to be mistaken. My dad has mentioned nothing about this woman called Aurora. But he hates the mafia and never explained why.
The bathroom calls to me—a chance to wash away these thoughts with hot water.
I strip off my clothes and step under the shower spray, letting it cascade over my shoulders.
My hands rest on the tiles as the water runs down my body, thinking.
That’s the moment something flickers in my mind.
Dom’s shoulder digging into my stomach as he carries me like a sack of potatoes toward a door.
The sound of voices.
The smell of his cologne.
My fear heightened.
Outside, the fresh air hits me as he strides across the sidewalk to his car. He sets me down in the passenger seat of his Bentley. “Stay in the car,” he orders, his voice leaving no room for argument.
A gun gleams in his hand. When did he pull that out?
He disappears.
Gunshots ring out. One, two, three in rapid succession.
People are shouting. I can’t make out the words over the ringing in my ears.
Fear grips me. I can’t stay here. I fling the car door open and run.
The memory ends abruptly, leaving me gasping. The memory is so sharp and vivid that my entire body shivers and my heart hammers against my ribs.
I can’t breathe. My lungs refuse to work, like I’m drowning right here in the shower.
My vision narrows, dark spots dancing at the edges.
I grip the shower wall, but the tiles are too slippery under my fingers and I sink to the floor.
Was Dom trying to kill me? Was he the one chasing me that night?
I shut off the water with trembling hands and tentatively rise to my feet, practically falling out of the shower. After grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my body, I sink back against the bathroom wall, trying to force air into my lungs.
One breath. Two. Three.
Dom with a gun. Gunshots. Footsteps chasing me.
Footsteps.
“Think, Amara.”
I close my eyes and press my fingertips over my temples and try to remember. My memory has been creeping back to me, bit by bit. Or was I just blocking out the memories all the time?
The footsteps—were they Dom’s?
My breathing steadies as I focus, trying to pull the memory hidden in the fog at the back of my mind.
The footsteps... They were distinctive. Were the footsteps his?
If nothing else comes, I have to keep this information to myself. If he thinks I know he tried to kill me, I don’t know how he’d react. But would he kill me if I were pregnant with his child?
I haven’t had a period, but it could be from my injuries. Why the hell did I tell him I was pregnant? I need to find out if I am today. But maybe being pregnant will keep me alive.
I press my head between my knees and try to blank my mind so my memories can come forward.
“Think Amara…Did the footsteps sound heavy like Dom’s? What happened after I ran? Did he chase me?”
And then I remember…
I’m crouching behind a car, waiting to run. I think it’s safe and sprint across the road, but a car engine is getting closer and closer. I turn to the car, thinking the driver will save me.
But then I’m floating through the air, and it feels like it lasts forever until I hit the ground with a thud and everything goes black...until it doesn’t.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps get closer as a shadowy figure stands and watches me before turning away.
I want to scream out for help. I’m hoping they’ve gone back to their car to get their phone. To get me help. I don’t know though, because that’s when everything goes black.
“Tap. Tap. Tap.”
Not the heavy stride of Dom’s Italian leather shoes, but something lighter, sharper.
“Fuck!”