Page 238 of Snaring Emberly
But today is different. Today marks one week past my due date, and frustration builds inside me like a pressure cooker. My patience is about to snap, even though Roman continues his routine with unwavering determination.
The door behind me opens, and Roman emerges from the pool house. “Hey, baby. How are you feeling?”
“Nothing’s still happening yet,” I mutter.
Chuckling, he brings me a steaming cup of tea. “That’s because our son is half a gorgon. He’ll come when he’s good and ready.”
“Stubborn Montesano genes, more like,” I reply with a smirk.
My nostrils twitch at the familiar scent. “Is that raspberry tea?”
“I picked the leaves myself.” He sets down the cup on the side table.
Roman pulls up a chair and sits at my side. He’s shirtless, save for a pair of gray sweatpants that accentuates the outline of his thick cock. I pull my gaze away from the appendage that got me into this mess and try to forget it’s been an eternity since we were intimate. Instead, I focus on the figure tattooed between his pecs, which holds so much meaning for us both.
Shortly after I returned from being abducted, Mr. Lubelli came to see me in my studio and apologized for his part in the deception. I was still struggling with artist’s block and wasn’t interested in his excuses, but then he showed me my artwork on social media. There were hundreds of clips of me painting in the studio, and a lot of them had gone viral.
His assistants also set up an online store to sell prints of my paintings, generating thousands of dollars. Scrolling through the comments restored my confidence in my art. Inspiration struck after he left, and I picked up a pencil to make my first sketch.
It was a tattoo to transform the word LIAR that I carved into the center of Roman’s chest into a full body portrait of Medusa. I sketched several others, including an angel, a cross, and symbols, but Roman said the Medusa reminded him so much of my temper. He even insisted that I change her face to match mine.
I take a sip of my sweetened raspberry leaf tea. “Thank you. Do you think we could skip the afternoon walk? Nothing seems to be working.”
His gaze drops to my breasts. “Walking isn’t the only way to induce labor.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I stare into my cup, trying to hold back a wave of desire. Roman and I haven’t been intimate since before I was abducted. In fact, he’s been the perfect gentleman.
Nearly losing me has made him more protective, and he hasn’t made a single move. He still gives me massages but without the happy endings, and he always pulls away before things get too heated.
The lack of sex has deepened our friendship, and we have found so many things we like in common. Last month, we traveled to New York City to buy a Roger Thango painting, along with another mask.
The next day, we went to a car auction together to pick a vintage Mercedes to replace the one I destroyed. Roman wants to restore it with me and the baby when he’s older. He’s even introduced me to mafia movies, and he insisted that I teach him how to make art.
We spend hours together, both inside the studio and across the estate, painting whatever we see. Roman’s enthusiasm has gotten rid of my artist’s block, and I’ve created several beautiful pieces for the nursery.
It’s sweet that he’s stopped using his sexual prowess to bend me to his will, and I’ve gotten to know another side of Roman. Our friendship may have deepened, but the lack of sex is driving me insane.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips. “If you’re not taking me for a walk, then what are you suggesting?”
He slides a hand over my belly, making my skin tingle. I shift on the bed, my breath quickening.
“Did you know that nipple stimulation can bring on contractions?” he asks, his eyes sparkling.
I gulp.
And the way he’s staring at my nipples is making them tingle even more.
“Anything else?” I ask, my voice breathy with desire.
His eyes darken, and his gaze drops to my lips. “There’s another method, but it’s more intimate.”
“Are you trying to get laid?” I ask, my lips quirking.
His smile widens, revealing his perfect teeth. “I don’t need to fuck you to give you an orgasm.”
My heart flip-flops at his directness. A part of me has been aching for his touch, but I don’t want to disturb our truce.
We did couples therapy with a woman named Monica Saint who has a practice downtown and provides services to people in the underworld. She helped us unearth what went wrong in our relationship and brought us to a better understanding of each other’s fears.