Savannah

His lips claimed mine again, but this time it wasn't force or insistence that melted my resistance. It was the softness, the care, the warmth of him pressing into me like he wanted to breathe life into the broken places I kept buried.

For years I had built walls out of shame and anger, convinced that if anyone saw all of me—my mistakes, my scars, the ugliest parts of my story—they'd recoil in disgust. Yet here was Roman, kissing me as if he had been waiting his whole life to find me.

"Roman..." I whispered when he pulled back just enough for me to breathe. My voice was shaky. "I don't know how to let you."

His thumb brushed my cheek, lingering on the tear he'd caught before it could fall. His eyes burned into mine, dark and unwavering. "You don't have to know how. Just feel me."

His mouth found mine again, slower this time, coaxing instead of demanding. My knees weakened under the weight of his tenderness as he scooped me up, carrying me to the bed.

He laid me down gently. When his hands skimmed down my sides, I trembled but didn't stop him. He wasn't rushing, wasn't even taking. He was asking, silently, over and over, with every caress... Can I?

When he began to strip away my defenses, his lips followed every inch of exposed skin, warm and reverent. The brush of his mouth against my collarbone made my breath hitch. I felt a sudden surge of the old shame, a reflex to hide myself from his gaze.

"I don't want you to look at me," I whispered, covering myself instinctively. "I'm not—"

Roman caught my wrists gently and kissed each palm. "Savannah, I'm going to look at you. Every time.Every inch. And you're going to see exactly what I see—the woman I want. The woman I can’t walk away from."

My throat tightened. I let him lower my arms, exposing my soul as much as my body. I didn't feel like prey being judged, but like someone precious, treasured.

And when his lips touched my shoulder, then my chest, then lower... it felt like worship. He kissed every part of me, not skipping the places I hated most. My stomach—the place where the heaviest memories lived. His mouth lingered there, soft and reverent, as though he was telling me without words: I love this part too. I love all of you.

I sobbed, and his lips drank the sound away.

Roman

She didn't know how beautiful she was. Not in the way that mattered. Savannah thought she was ruined, filthy, unworthy. And it broke something deep in me.

I wanted to burn every lie she had ever been told, erase every cruel word that had made her doubt her worth. Since I couldn't change the past, I would show her with my body what my mouth could never fully capture.

Her trembling didn't scare me; it only made me gentler. I kissed her throat, her breasts, and when I reached her stomach, I lingered. I knew this was where she carried the worst of her pain. I pressed my lips there and stayed, my hand covering hers, holding it against the same spot, grounding her in the present.

"You are not filthy," I whispered against her skin. "You are mine."

She choked back a sob, and the sound nearly undid me.

When I finally moved to join our bodies, I did so with a patience I didn't know I possessed. Inch by inch,I made her mine. Her gasp filled the room, her hands clutching my shoulders. I stayed still, forehead pressed to hers, letting her breathe, letting her know I wasn't going anywhere.

"Look at me," I murmured. "Don't hide. Not from me."

Her lashes lifted, and when her eyes locked onto mine, it felt like the world held its breath. I moved slowly, rocking into her with a rhythm that wasn't about release, but connection. I wanted to show her she wasn't broken—that she was whole in my arms.

With every movement, I kissed her. Her lips, her temple, her tears. I kissed the soft sounds she made,the gasps that escaped when pleasure finally began to melt the grief.

Savannah

It shouldn't still feel this way. Not after what I'd confessed. But Roman’s weight above me was grounding, his rhythm feeling like home. Every time I tried to turn my head in shame, he kissed me until I had no choice but to face him.

"Don't hide," he kept whispering. "Don't you dare hide from me."

He was stripping me bare—not just my body, but my soul. And still... he stayed.

When the end came, it was with a sob that nearly shattered me. I clung to him like he was the only thing holding me to this world. I saw something new in his eyes—not shame, but a fragile, desperate hope.

I collapsed onto his chest as he cradled me. In the quiet that followed, he pressed a final kiss to my lips and whispered the only truth that mattered.

"You're perfect. Flaws and all."