Page 48 of Knocked Up By the Russian

She attempted to wait up that night, heart racing with anticipation, but Ivan didn't come home. Hours passed, and each minute felt like an eternity. As exhaustion settled in, Amy finally succumbed to sleep in the early hours of the morning, disappointment gnawing at her.

When she confronted Mikhail the next day, he let her know their work the night before had lasted longer than it should've and that Ivan would be back later that day. Annoyed, Amy returned to her room, reconsidering whether she should tell him when he got back or if she should wait.

The day dragged on, and that evening she ended up falling asleep before she could see Ivan return, fatigue overwhelming her. In her dreams, she thought she imagined his touch, the warmth of his body pulling her closer. But when she woke, he was sleeping soundly beside her, exhaustion lining his face. Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest.

He looks so tired, she couldn't help but think. Her fingers reached to smooth the creases in his brow, her body melting when he relaxed under her touch.

Tomorrow, she decided determinedly, before curling up against his chest. Whatever argument they'd had, whatever doubts, all faded as she fell asleep next to him.

But the next day came, and Ivan was gone before she could speak to him. The frustration bubbled up inside her, turning into annoyance. Every time she found a moment to share her news, something stopped her. When she chased answers from Mikhail about Ivan's whereabouts, he offered platitudes that only stoked the fire of her irritation. It felt like a cruel game of cat and mouse.

Days turned into a week, and she felt trapped in a cycle of waiting and hoping, her heart aching with the weight of hernews. Angry at the situation and feeling increasingly isolated, she approached Mikhail for a favor, a desperate plan forming in her head.

She wasn't willing to let this opportunity slip away from her again. It was time to take control. She needed to make him understand the importance of this moment, no matter how inconvenient it might be.

***

This has to work, Amy thought desperately as she looked at herself in the mirror. Red stained her cheeks as she considered the lacey green lingerie she'd found at the bottom of the suitcase Ivan had packed three weeks ago.

Her fingers touched the pretty silk and lace, cheeks heating further when she remembered him taking her shopping. She'd bought this for him but hadn't had the guts to wear it until now.

Nerves dancing in her stomach, she left the bathroom and returned to the bed to wait out the next few hours. Her discussion with Mikhail played in her mind. Ivan would come home, he'd promised that she'd see her husband tonight.

Her hand touched her belly, and Amy exhaled shakily.God, please let this work.

The time passed slowly, and Amy squirmed as she waited. The lights had been dimmed on purpose, but it reminded her of their bedroom, and Amy found her smile drooping.God, I miss the apartment. Mira's house was gorgeous, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the home she'd come to think of as theirs. The sky outside her borrowed bedroom's window overlooked the pool and the garden. And a small part of Amy was envious thatshe would always remember finding out about the baby here. It would've made it so much more special if she could've figured it out in their apartment. Closing her eyes, it was so easy to imagine.

Tears tracked her cheeks, and she let out a huff, laughing at herself as she stumbled to the bathroom to clean them away. And whether it was pregnancy hormones or just missing Ivan, the tears didn't stop for a good couple of minutes. They trekked down her cheeks silently.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and wiped her face, sniffing quietly as she returned to the bedroom—only to pause in the doorway, a stunned expression on her face.

"Ivan," she breathed, joy flickering through her chest even if he looked half asleep, her pillow cuddled to his chest.

Sidling up to him, she tapped his shoulder. "Ivan," she murmured, amusement in her tone when he grumbled under his breath.

Poor little playboy.She snickered as she tapped him again, ocean-blue eyes squinting up at her.

"Where were you?" he accused in a lazy drawl that made her stomach swoop. "You were supposed to be waiting for me."

"Was I?" she teased, leaning forward to kiss him. He hummed in her mouth, tongue dancing lazily with hers.

Amy let out a squeal when his arm appeared out of nowhere, scooping her up and into the bed with him. "Fuck, I've missed your mouth," he mumbled against her neck, fingers settling possessively around her waist.

"You missed me?" Happiness mixed with amusement as she squeezed out of his hold, spotting the frown on his face as he tried to fall asleep again. She'd missed him too. So much.

He mumbled something indecipherable and she snickered, pressing kisses to his mouth again. "Ivan," she breathed, fingers running through his hair as she worked him onto his back, settling herself on his waist.

"I need you," she murmured, pressing kisses to his neck. A warm hand settled on her hips and he let out a groan, his other hand running through his hair.

Bloodshot blue eyes met hers blearily, and Amy fought a laugh as she kissed him. "Wake up, I need to tell you something."

"Is it how much you love me?" he muttered, exhaustion lacing his tone as he gave in and kissed her back.

"Not quite," she mumbled against his lips, nipples brushing his chest. Heat curled in her veins, aided by the soft rocking against his hips.

"Ivan," she whimpered, squirming in his grip.

His other hand settled on her hips, stalling her movements. "Fucking torture... Mishka. You're torturing me. It's not fair, let me sleep."

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