Savannah

"There's nothing in front of me, Roman," I said, my voice tight and brittle.

His brow furrowed, his expression uncharacteristically guarded. "Then why does it feel like I did something wrong?"

I leaned against the dresser, my knuckles white as I gripped the edge. "You didn't. You did exactly what I asked you to do. That’s the problem."

He exhaled slowly, the sound heavy in the quiet room. "Then what is it, Sav? Why won't you look at me? You're acting like I’m a stranger."

I turned around, clutching my arms around my chest as if they could hold my crumbling composure together. "Because best friends don't see each other that way. Not... in that light."

"Sav..."

"Best friends," I cut in, my heart pounding in my throat, "don't cross the lines we just crossed in the back of that car. That wasn't just a moment, Roman. It was the kind of thing that haunts you. We broke the friendship. We’re in over our heads."

Roman didn't flinch. If anything, he looked relieved. He took a slow step toward me, his voice calm and incredibly steady. "We’re not kids anymore, Sav. This isn't high school where we pretend things didn't happen. We had a connection—an incredible one. I’m not about to fall apart over it, and you shouldn't either. We’re adults. Don't expect me to get awkward because we finally stopped pretending."

I blinked, stunned by how cool he was about the very thing that was making my world tilt.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate vibration. "You're my best friend. Seeing you like that, feeling you... it isn't going to destroy us. Not unless you let it. I’m not ashamed, and I’m sure as hell not going to apologize for it. Not now, not ever."

Silence stretched between us like a loaded gun. "So what now?" I whispered.

"Now we stop pretending this night changed everything," Roman said, his gaze unwavering. "When maybe it just revealed what was already there. Don't you see how perfectly we fit? We don't just understand each other’s minds, Sav. Our bodies do, too."

My jaw practically dropped. "Are you out of your mind, Roman?"

He just shrugged. "I'm being honest. You're the one acting like it didn't happen. I’m right here. I haven't moved."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "You’re still my best friend. That doesn't change. We just... we shouldn't do that again."

His eyes flashed with something raw, something primal that made my knees weak. "You’re mine," he said, and the way he said it didn't sound like a metaphor. "And I never pretended I wasn't yours."

I settled onto the bed, feeling like my head was about to explode. Roman sat beside me and grabbed my hand. "I’m scared, Roman," I admitted, my voice shaky. "What if we ruin everything?"

"Look at me, Sav," he urged. I did. "I hate when we fight. But I hate seeing you sad more. If it bothers you this much—if you really wish it hadn't happened—then we won't do it again. We’ll genuinely try to forget. Is that what you want?"

I shook my head, feeling pathetic. "I didn't hate it. I... I liked it too."

He smiled—a real, genuine smile—and pulled me into a hug. "Then what's the problem?"

"I don't want to lose you," I confessed into his chest.

"You won't lose me, love," he promised, his hand running a soothing rhythm up and down my back. "But if we’re being honest... I’ve wanted you since the moment we got to New Hope. And at the club? I wanted nothing more than to take you away from everyone else."

I hit his shoulder playfully. "I knew you were acting different. And you denied it."

He laughed. "Do you want me too? Or is it just me?"

"Wanting you isn't the problem, Roman," I said softly. "Trusting that this won't break us is."

He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was a low vow. "Then we start small. Don't shut me out. Don't run away."

"Fine," I agreed. "No avoiding."

"Thank you. Now, let's get some rest."

After we both showered, the atmosphere in the room changed again. Roman came out in just a towel, looking far too comfortable. He took a call from his lawyer, Penny, discussing the situation with Emily and the fallout from the club.

I watched him. Boldly this time. I’d seen him before—years ago when I took care of him during a fever—but this was different. Now, every line of his body felt like a memory I’d personally explored. My skin felt tight, my pulse quickening just by being in his presence.

He finished his call and caught me staring. "Enjoying the view, bestie?" he teased, pulling on a pair of boxers.

"That's not funny, Roman," I muttered, crossing my arms.

"You're only mad because you liked what you saw," he said smoothly, strolling toward the bed. "You’re flushed, Sav."

"Out of shock," I lied.

"Sure," he said, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "You sounded really 'shocked' earlier in the car."

I huffed and scooted to the far edge of the bed. "You're impossible."

Roman slid under the covers, making no move to stay on his side. He pulled me against him, his arm snaking around my waist with a possessive strength. "Don't run to the edge. It doesn't work anymore."

"I'm trying to keep your heat from ruining my life," I grumbled.

"Too late," he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of my neck. His breath was warm, his body a furnace behind mine.

I stiffened when I felt the clear evidence of his arousal pressed against me. His lips brushed my skin, light and lingering. "Relax," he whispered. "I'm not going to do anything you don't ask for."

I hated how safe I felt. I hated how much my body wanted him. My voice betrayed me as I whispered into the dark, "Would you... would you want to do it again?"

He paused. The room felt like it was standing still. "Yes," he finally said, his lips grazing my shoulder. "But only if you want me to."

And God help me, I did.