The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The door to the master bedroom suite swung open behind a kick from Yohan’s boot. He celebrated knowing the place by heart, for the moment he had Mel back in his arms, they were kissing fiercely. They were both fully clothed from the waist down. Of course, that fact did nothing to diminish the electricity the embrace stirred between them.

  Melina kissed him with unmasked desperation fueling the passionate strokes of her tongue. She chanted his name amidst the lusty act, telling her husband that she was as starved for him as he was for her. The way she arched and rubbed against him caressed his ego like nothing he’d ever known.

  Yohan’s dimpled grin appeared when he saw that the huge sleigh bed was already turned down. Good ol Pony, he commended silently.

  Melina sounded a contented hum when she felt the cool, crisp navy linens beneath her back. Yohan had placed her right in the center of the bed and settled to his knees beside her. Her eyes filled with wonder as she watched him, feeling as though she were in some sort of magical daydream. The reality of him being there beside her, loving her after so much had transpired between them was almost an impossible concept to grasp.

  A sharp cry rose unexpectedly from her throat when he removed her strappy sandals and suckled her toes. He held her foot as though it were something fragile while he delighted her. Melina could feel herself growing wetter-drenching her panties shamefully. Yohan provided his pleasure slowly and eagerly, determined to please her until she was begging him to stop.

  “Nooo,” she commanded, when he left her foot and went to remove her jeans.

  Yohan tossed the Capris to the floor and eased his fingers inside her panties. His nose nuzzled the undergarment and he smiled at their dampened state before sliding them from her body. Mel felt another powerful stab of desire as she watched him inhale the scent of her lingerie before casting them alongside the rest of her clothing.

  He ravaged her with an explosive kiss deep within her sex. Melina grew orgasmic almost immediately as his tongue seemed to fill her. Impossibly, Yohan deepened the strokes and he was just as aroused by the feel of her moisture flooding against his tongue.

  “Please wait…Han please, just let me….” She couldn’t complete the request that he give her time to ride out the overwhelming climax.

  Yohan had no intention of stopping. Mel was practically spent when he turned her to her stomach. Her desire was renewed breathless cries rushing forth when he applied the same delight to the extra sensitive spot between her buttocks. Mel arched up to take more of the scandalous kiss, clutching fistfuls of the bed linens as she moaned into the pillow.

  Yohan cupped her hips and positioned her to his satisfaction, spreading her thighs and taking her from behind.

  Mel’s cry was a cross between pleasure and pain she couldn’t determine which she felt more of. She only knew that she didn’t want it to end. Yohan’s perfect white teeth, bit gently into the satiny dark flesh of her shoulder. His cries of pleasure sounded as helpless as Melina’s. The stiff and very impressive length of his sex drove smoothly in and out of her body. At the same time, his fingers journeyed over her hip to fondle the folds of her femininity before they invaded her body from that angle.

  Mel sought pleasure from both directions. Her hand curved over his massive thigh in a silent command that he increase the force of his thrusts. She had no idea where her strength was coming from, but she had no intentions of stopping. She met his power with her own in a continuous melody as they rediscovered the pleasure they’d been missing.

  ~~~

  Later, they rested, nestled amidst the tangled covers. Mel was content, being lulled by the strong steady beat of Yohan’s heart while her cheek rested against his chest.

  Yohan was equally relaxed and at peace, holding the woman he loved. Slowly, however, reality took its place amidst the solitude. No matter how wonderful the last four hours had been, the state of things would not allow them to ignore what had to be said. Yohan decided to begin, collecting his thoughts regarding all he’d been told.

  Dim afternoon light flooded throughout the room relaxing him further as he began the tale.

  “Moses and Fern stopped by a few days ago. What they told me about Pop…I always knew he had secrets-bad ones. I never believed they were so…evil.”

  Yohan continued to speak, sharing the news his brothers had delivered. By the time he’d finished, Melina was resting fully across his chest and staring into his face. The expression clouding her features was beyond terrified. No words came to her mind or mouth for none seemed appropriate. Instead, she was focused on a young woman she’d lost so many years ago-a young woman who had been so very dear to her.

  “Mel?” Yohan whispered, not liking the fear frozen on her face. His hands tightened on her arms as he gave her a tiny shake. “Meli?” he tried again. “What’s wrong?” he asked, when she finally focused on him.

  “The-your story,” she managed, resting her face in the crook of his neck. “Do you remember Jahzara?” she asked.

  Yohan frowned, toying with his wife’s flowing hair as he concentrated. The name rang no bells at first, but soon his memory recovered. The girl, Melina’s cousin, had gone missing sometime between their sophomore and junior years in high school. It all took place long before he’d met Mel.

  “Zara,” he said, “yeah I remember her,” he added, smoothing his lips across her forehead. “Why?” he prompted, when she offered no further explanation. “Mel? What are you saying?”

  Sighing nervously and feeling cold, Mel snuggled closer to Yohan. “The night I left, Marc…advised me not to forget I had the safety of others to consider. He wasn’t talking about your safety,” she told him and looked into her eyes then. “A minute after he left, Johari was calling me.”

  The cold sensation washed over Yohan then. He quickly recognized the name of Jahzara’s sister. “What happened?” he asked, almost dreading to hear the rest.

  Mel shook her head. “She said she’d called because there was a message on her service that said it was important for her to contact me at the hotel where I’d planned to meet you. She said she was supposed to remind me of something.” She shuddered reflexively. “It only took a second for me to understand what she meant.”

  Yohan’s features sharpened with something sinister. “Marcus…” he breathed.

  “Han?” Melina whispered, feeling his powerful arms flexing like steel bands about her waist. “Yohan?” she called again, this time tapping her fingers to his cheek to get him to snap out of his trance.

  Yohan didn’t respond. Instead, he pushed himself up, taking Mel with him when she would have toppled off.

  “No one ever knew what happened to Zara,” he said, as though he were speaking to himself. “It was like she fell off the face of the earth,” he added.

  Mel braced her chin to his shoulder while straddling his lap. “Back then,” she said, sniffling softly as she remembered. “Even when it was clear she was gone, I never thought she was dead. I wouldn’t believe it. I told myself she was alive somewhere. Now

  you tell me about what Fernando saw…”she looked at her husband then. “Do you think she could be one of the women they took on that ship? Marcus was obviously involved in it back then.”

  Yohan only shook his head the look in his dark eyes offered no clue about his mood. A moment later, he planted a kiss to Melina’s mouth and left the bed.

  Mel remained seated with the covers wrapped around her otherwise nude body. She was immersed in her own troubling thoughts when a booming sound thundered close by. Whirling around on the bed, she saw that Yohan had put his fist through the wall. It was a deep blow-so far that she could see the pink puffs of insulation lining the framework of the house.

  “Are you alright?!” she cried, rushing from the bed. She captured his fist in her hand and rubbed his wrist until he’d unclenched it.

  “He took you from me,” Yohan said, focused solely on Mel while she studied his hand. “He’s responsible for Zara.” />
  “We don’t know that, Han,” Mel said, trying to keep him calm even while she admitted her words were false.

  Yohan smirked. “We know, Meli. We know. Hell, if I didn’t already know Houston was to blame for Sera, I’d pin that one on Pop too.”

  Both Mel’s hands went weak and then she was pushing Yohan back onto the bed. “I’m going to get something for your hand,” she muttered and almost sprinted out of the room.

  “I could kill him Melina,” he confessed when she’d returned with disinfectant, gauze and bandages.

  “You’re just angry,” she reasoned, focused on dabbing cotton balls; moist with peroxide, to his knuckles. “Marc’s not worth you doing anything that’ll put your life or your freedom in jeopardy. Besides, he deserves to rot in jail-not in a coffin. Hmph, not yet anyway.”

  “I don’t care,” Yohan’s voice grated in the quiet room. “He won’t stop unless someone stops him.”

  “Shh,” she soothed, smiling in wonder at his hand. Aside from a few bloody scrapes, there didn’t appear to be any extensive damage.

  “The fact that he’s my father doesn’t even register anymore, Meli,” he was saying, wincing when his bruised hand clenched into a quick fist. “Fern and Mo want him in jail, I want him dead and that scares me, Mel.”

  She could hear that fear in his voice and stopped working with his hand. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him admit to being afraid.

  “I could end the life of the man who gave me life,” he said, sounding as though he were settling the matter in his mind.

  Mel watched him leave the bed and pull on the jeans he’d tossed aside earlier. How could she tell him everything now? He wanted to kill Marcus and he didn’t even know half of the story.

  ***

  Melina showered and donned a pair of red Yoga pants and a white halter tee. With her thick, coarse hair pulled into a flouncy high ponytail, she trekked downstairs. Her easy manner, however, evaporated when she became aware of Yohan’s absence from the lower level of the house. Her steps quickened as she checked and double checked each room. Relief flooded her body when she passed the glass doors in the kitchen and saw him out in the backyard.

  He stood holding a grizzly looking axe above a massive tree stump that was surrounded by heavy logs. For a while, Mel’s eyes were glued to him as he swung the huge axe to chop wood into more manageable pieces. The wide plane of his back glistened black and packed with muscle.

  What to do, what to do, she debated, leaning against the wall near the doors. She knew at any moment, Yohan would come to her. He’d ask if she’d told him everything or if there was anymore. It would be the moment of truth then-literally. Would she lie to him and prevent a potentially fatal event such as him killing Marcus and going to jail for the rest of his life? Or would she tell him the truth and risk losing him again anyway? The choices, or perhaps the quality of the choices, made her nauseas. She looked up in time to see Yohan headed back to the house with several heavy logs in tow.

  “Do you really think we’re gonna need all that?” she teased, eyeing the wood he carried upon his shoulders.

  “Temperature will fall in spite of the fact that darkness won’t,” he cautioned, dumping the planks to the brick floor surrounding the massive fireplace in the living room.

  “Right,” she acknowledged with a slow nod. During that time of year, daylight in Alaska lasted for months. Her eyes fixed upon Yohan again and she noticed him staring. “How about some coffee? Tea maybe?” she offered, attempting to lighten the moment.

  Yohan shrugged. “Coffee sounds good,” he said and turned to grab the towel he’d left on the back of an armchair.

  Mel ordered herself not to stand there gawking as he used the towel to dry the sweat from his glistening chest and arms. She went into the kitchen, stopping in her tracks when she looked upon the island where she’d touched her husband for the first time in eight years. She heard Yohan’s steps in the distance and moved on towards the towering cupboards.

  “I think we made things more complicated,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the kitchen’s arched doorway.

  Mel had climbed her stepstool and was searching for Hazelnut coffee amongst the sea of flavored brews. “How so?” she asked him.

  Yohan massaged his jaw, his heavy brows rising skeptically. “Sex tends to complicate things, doesn’t it?”

  Mel had just grabbed the Hazelnut tin only to have it slip right from her hand. She uttered a whispered word of relief, thankful none of the contents had spilled on the counter. She couldn’t think of a thing to say to him, especially when Yohan’s hands spanned her waist before he pulled her from the stool.

  Yohan trapped her between himself and the counter. One hand cupped her face to hold her still for his kiss. It was long and deep, his tongue rubbed around and beneath hers and he groaned when she reciprocated.

  She was hungry for him again instantly, arching close as her hands stroked his wavy hair. Moaning helplessly, she became the aggressor in the kiss. Her arms were wrapped around his neck in much the same fashion that her legs were locked around his waist. She was seconds away from begging him to make love with her again, when she felt his hands patting her thighs. She recognized it as a signal for her to ease down. She could feel her cheeks heating and it was impossible for her to look up at him.

  “So where are we gonna have this coffee?” he asked, his own words tinged with a hint of breathlessness.

  “Um, the living room,” Mel managed after a quick look towards the kitchen island.

  “Is that all I get?”

  “What?” she blurted in response to his question. Her entire body was still on fire with powerful arousal for him.

  Yohan grinned, knowing how he’d confused her. “Are we gonna eat anything, is what I meant?”

  Mel nodded, her cheeks burning now. “I um, I could maybe whip up a coffee cake or something before dinner,” she offered, with a flippant wave.

  “Sounds good,” he said and put more distance between them. “I’ll go up and take a shower,” he added, before leaving the room.

  Alone, Melina collapsed to the step stool.

  ***

  Michaela was reaching for paper on a high shelf from the book case. Quest stepped into his wife’s home office to let her know he was on his way to a meeting at Ramsey.

  “What the hell?” he whispered, his gray eyes darkening at what he saw. Uttering another soft curse, he went to Mick and took her down from the chair she was perched on. “What are you doing?” he asked when she stood before him.

  Mick glanced toward the top of the shelf. “I needed paper,” she replied simply.

  “What for?” Quest asked, managing without effort to obtain an unopened ream from the shelf.

  Feigning confusion, Michaela pointed to the labeling on the paper’s packaging. “It’s notebook paper, baby. See? It says so right here on the front.”

  Quest grimaced, quickly sparking his left dimple. “What’s it for?” he asked,

  “Uh…taking notes?” was Mick’s sarcastic response.

  Taking a seat on the arm of a loveseat, he smiled. “Notes on what?”

  “Why?”

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Why are you so interested?”

  “Because clearly you don’t want me to know and now I’m suspicious.”

  Mick’s amber gaze narrowed. “Suspicious?” she snapped, propping a hand upon her non-existent waistline. “What? Am I not allowed to take notes?”

  “Depends on what they’re about.” Quest said with a lazy shrug.

  “Well, if you must know, I’m putting down a few ideas on the next family I want to research.”

  Quest didn’t miss a beat. “Do I know them?” he asked.

  Mick went completely still. “Why are you being so difficult?”

  Leaning forward, Quest tugged at the flaring hem of the light blue maternity blouse she wore and brought her close. “Because I don’t want my pregnant w
ife dabbling in things that could get her hurt.”

  Mick shook her head, sending a hoard of curls flying into her face. “How can taking a few notes be harmful?”

  Quest bowed his head, grinding the muscles in his jaw as he took a hold of his frustration. “If you’re trying to play dumb, stop. You’re doing a bad job of it.”

  “Quest-“

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  Mick folded her arms atop her belly. “Contessa House is still looking for an author to take over the book.”

  “Tell County I said ‘good luck’,” he said and stood to pull his suit coat off the sofa.

  “I never should’ve backed out on writing it,” Mick admitted, one finger raised in the air. “I’ve done majority of the research, I’ve been on the story for years, I want to see this through.” She followed behind Quest as he shrugged into his suit coat. “If those aren’t enough reasons why I should author that book, then I’ve got plenty more.”

  Quest stopped and turned to look down at her. “Don’t bother-my three reasons why it shouldn’t be you are damn good and fully outweigh yours.”

  Mick remained quiet and searched Quest’s now pitch black stare as he looked directly into her eyes.

  “You’re pregnant, you’re my wife and I said ‘no’.”

  “What about Sera?” She challenged her voice soft and coaxing. “Sweetie, don’t you think that poor girl deserves to have her story told?”

  “Dammit Mick!” Quest thundered, rubbing a hand across the back of his head. “Do you even remotely recall what Fernando told us about Marc’s ship? I don’t want you involved in that for anything or anybody.”

  Mick was unfazed. “Too many people have died already. Quest aren’t you the least bit curious to know what really happened to Wake?”

  “If it means you have to be involved, hell no.”

  “Quest-“

  “I don’t want to talk about this again Michaela, alright?” he prompted, his voice soft and polite as he waited patiently for a nod she had to force herself to deliver. A heart stopping smile came to his face when he spread his arms to beckon her hug.