Savannah

I woke slowly. My limbs felt weighted, as if every ounce of energy had been drained from my bones, leaving me blissfully useless. The sheets were a soft, cool contrast to the lingering heat on my skin, and every small shift was a vivid reminder of the night before.

I moved slightly and let out a soft hiss, biting my lip. I was tender—aching in muscles I hadn't realized I possessed. A deep, pulsing awareness remained in the core of my body, a testament to the intensity of Roman’s touch. I felt raw, sensitized to the point that even the faint drag of the fabric made my nerves spark with a phantom electricity.

I flopped an arm over my eyes, groaning. He had utterly unraveled me, leaving me in this shameless, beautiful ruin.

The mattress dipped beside me. I didn't need to look; his heat was a familiar sun, consuming the space around him.

"Mmm." A low, vibrating chuckle. "You’re feeling the weight of last night, aren’t you?"

I snatched the sheet higher, shielding myself even though there were no secrets left between us. "Shut up, Roman."

He leaned closer, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, sending a fresh wave of heat through me. "Don’t bother hiding. I can hear it in your breath. I can see the way your body reacts to the mere memory of me." His hand slid beneath the sheet, resting possessively on my thigh. "I left my mark on you, my love. Did you really think you’d wake up unchanged?"

Despite the ache, my treacherous heart quickened. I pressed my legs together, wincing at the sensitivity. "You're a force of nature, Roman. A relentless one."

He smirked, his thumb tracing slow, hypnotic circles against my skin. "Not a force of nature," he corrected, his voice dropping to a seductive rasp. "Just a man making sure your body remembers exactly who you belong to."

My cheeks burned. It was a dizzying mix of shame and desire. A small whimper escaped me, and his dark, knowing laugh told me he’d caught it.

"Still sore," he murmured, his touch inching upward, "but still responding to me. My beautiful, desperate girl."

I clamped my hand over his. "Stop right there. If you try anything this early, I’m going to go on strike."

He threw his head back and laughed, withdrawing his hand but maintaining his heavy, magnetic presence. "Alright, you win. For now. But don't forget the debt you owe me." The look in his eyes promised that he intended to collect with interest.

I tried to sit up, my muscles protesting the movement. Roman’s eyes didn't stray; they remained fixed on me with a shameless, burning intensity that made me feel like the center of his universe.

"Looking for your luggage?" he asked, as if reading my mind. "I sorted it while you were sleeping. You're staying here for now. Reese is... occupied with a supposed migraine."

I sighed, settling back against the pillows. "I suppose I'm staying put, then." A thought struck me. "Wait. Did you see where I put my pills? I’m nearly at the end of the pack."

Roman gestured toward the nightstand. "Right there."

I reached for them, fumbling with the foil. "I need a glass of water," I said, pushing the last pill through. "We have to be careful. Since we aren't using other methods, this is our only line of defense." I held the pill up, a playful but pointed edge to my voice. "This is the last one. You'd better get me a fresh supply, or you’re risking a very different kind of future."

I expected a witty comeback. A smirk. A challenge.

Instead, Roman went deathly still. The air in the room seemed to freeze. His eyes darkened, his brows pulling together as if I’d mentioned a curse rather than a prescription.

"Relax," I said, a little unsettled by his silence. "I'm not pregnant."

He blinked, snapping out of the trance, but the tension didn't leave his shoulders. "Forgive me. I just... lost my train of thought."

But it wasn't a lost thought. It was something deeper. Something colder.

"I’m just saying," I continued quietly. "I’m on the last one. We need more or—"

"What’s the most effective method?" he interrupted, his voice sharp. "The one that’s ninety-nine percent guaranteed?"

The question felt like a physical blow. A sudden, cold ache bloomed in my chest. Was the idea of us having a child so repulsive to him? Was I just a temporary fixture, safe as long as I didn't leave a permanent mark on his life?

"The pill has worked for years," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "There are others—implants, IUDs—but I don't want to mess with my cycle."

His expression softened, a flicker of something like guilt crossing his face. "Of course. Whatever you prefer, my love." He touched my lip, his thumb grazing the skin as if trying to soothe the hurt he'd just caused. "I'll make sure you have everything you need. A thousand packs, if that's what it takes."

The lump in my throat burned. "Two will be fine. For now."

"Then two it is." He squeezed my hand, grounding me. "I’m going to the gym. Sure you don't want to join?"

"I’m too tired," I lied, forcing a smile.

He kissed me—once, then again, longer this time, as if he were fighting the urge to stay. "You look ethereal," he whispered. "Even like this."

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with a hollow silence. I looked at the empty pill foil, feeling a heavy, unexplainable grief for a future he clearly never wanted to see.