Chapter 133 A Place Of Fear Steam still clung to my skin when I opened the bathroom door. The scent of Roman’s perfume and the sound of his fingers on the keyboard filled the air. He sat on the edge of the bed with his laptop balanced on one knee, shoulders tense in that familiar way like he carried the weight of the world. For a moment I just watched him, towel knotted around me, hair dripping against my collarbone. The blue light from his screen brushed against his face, sharpening his jawline and softening his eyes all at once. I padded closer on silent feet, biting back a grin. If I could sneak up on him—just once—I’d have bragging rights for the rest of our lives. But the second I reached for his shoulder, he said quietly, without turning, “Nice try, Sav. But I already know you’re there.” My smile broke into a pout. “Killjoy.” He chuckled and finally turned. “You did good, but you smell like my body wash. Kind of hard to miss.” I rolled my eyes and before I could reply, his hand caught mine, tugging me forward. I landed on his lap with a surprised squeak. The towel rode higher up my thighs, and I froze for a breath before laughter bubbled out of me. “Roman!” “Sorry,” he murmured, clearly not sorry at all. His grin was lazy, unguarded. Then, as if remembering what he’d been doing, he turned back to the laptop. “Tell me when you want to get dressed so I can raid the kitchen. I have no idea what’s even edible in there.” I leaned against his shoulder, still perched on his knee. “Eggs would be nice. Bacon too. Maybe toast.” “Let’s hope they’re not expired.” I wrinkled my face. “Then it’ll smell awful. Your alarm system will probably lose its mind.” That earned another laugh. I loved that sound—the way it started low in his chest before it escaped, unfiltered. He rested his hand at the small of my back, thumb drawing slow circles. “Sav?” “Mm?” “Everything okay?” I lifted my head. The glow from his screen painted his face in perfect light. I could see the question in his eyes, the quiet worry that never quite left him. I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I just…” My words slipped away as I pressed my forehead against his neck. “I just want you close tonight.” He stilled, then exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a sigh. “I’m not going anywhere.” My fingers traced the collar of his sweater. The fabric was soft and warm, smelling strongly of him. I kissed the place where his pulse beat beneath his skin. He shivered faintly. “You know,” he whispered, “you could distract a saint when you do that.” “Lucky for me,” I murmured, “you’re not one.” He laughed again, but it broke halfway through when I tilted my face up to kiss him. His lips met mine without hesitation—warm, sure, and searching. The taste of wine lingered between us, sharp and familiar. How much did he drink? When I pulled back, I reached across him and closed his laptop. The faint click echoed in the room. “There goes my work,” he said with a helpless smile.“Work can wait.” I smiled. For a long heartbeat we just looked at each other. Then he leaned forward and kissed me again, slower this time, as if trying to memorize the feel of the moment. His hands settled at my waist, tracing lazy patterns against the edge of the towel. The air in the room seemed to thicken. Even the city sounds outside faded to nothing. No movement was deliberate or hurried—maybe mine. The warmth between us built the way a sunrise does—soft at first, then impossible to ignore. It got hotter with every nip of his teeth on my lip. I felt my heartbeat stumble when he whispered my name against my mouth. The tenderness in his voice did more to undo me than any touch could. The world shrank to the rhythm of our breathing, the movement of our lips, the press of his hands at my back, the quiet sigh that left his throat when I whispered, “I need you.” His answer was wordless—a hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head, a kiss that deepened just enough to make time lose its edges. And when he finally drew back, his forehead rested against mine. “Savannah.”“Yes?” “Promise me something.” “What?” “That you'll never leave me. No matter what.” The request was gentle and strange. And it hit something deep. I nodded, swallowing the ache that rose in my throat. “Never.” Then I playfully added. “Who's going to buy me an island if I do?” He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb across my jaw. “Good.” The quiet stretched between us—comfortable, alive. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. But the issue with that was, I didn't want silence tonight. I leaned forward until our noses almost touched. “Roman?” “Yeah?” “Stop talking. Take me.” He smirked. “How can I resist such a tempting offer from the most gorgeous woman in the world?” Heat spread between my thighs and goosebumps prickled my arms. I didn't have anything smart to say. And frankly, neither did I have the time. Because the next minute, he was kissing me. Hard. Possessive. Furious. His lips smashed against mine and I didn’t hesitate. I kissed him back with everything I had. Like it was a fight. Like I was starving. Like he was the only man who could feed me. And maybe he was. His hands were all over me, rough and hungry. He yanked down my towel from my body and flung it towards a corner of the room like it offended him, baring my body. His knuckles skimmed my spine and I shivered. My nipples ached, hard against his chest. He cupped my breasts, mouth hot and wet over one, then the other. I gasped and gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. I moved on his lap, back and forth. Slowly. Feeling him, thick and hard beneath me. I reached between us, stroking him through his pants. He groaned, low and broken. I tugged his sweater upwards, desperate to get him naked. “Your turn,” I said impatiently. “Lose the clothes, Roman.” His sweater and pants hit the floor in seconds. We were both naked now. Vulnerable. Breathless. A smile broke out on my face at the sight of his body. All broad shoulders and muscles. No tattoos—not even one. Perfect in every way. “I want you inside me.” I whispered. “You're in charge, my love.” We didn’t break eye contact as I gripped him and guided him to my entrance. And the second I sank down on him, we both moaned. He stretched me wide—thick, hot, perfect. “Fuck, Savannah,” he growled, his head tipping back, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to hold onto the last shred of control. I rode him slow at first, teasing, grinding my hips, letting him feel every inch of me. His hands gripped my hips, hard, bruising, like he didn’t know if he wanted to stop me or let me destroy him. “You feel...” I whimpered, biting my lip, “so fucking good.” He opened his eyes, dark and wild. “Don’t stop. Keep going. Just like that.” I leaned forward, bracing my hands on his chest, all ridges and heat. I raked my nails down it, and he cursed. I started to move faster, bouncing on him, circling my hips. The wet sound of us was audible in the room, mixing with our moans. His eyes never left my body—he was watching me like I wasn’t real. “You like watching me take you?” I panted. He groaned. “I live for it.” My thighs burned, my body trembling as the pleasure coiled tighter. I leaned down, kissed him hard, sloppy, desperate. His tongue tangled with mine as his hips thrust up to meet every grind. “You’re going to make me come,” I breathed. His fingers dug into my ass. “Good. I want to feel you come all over me.” And I did. My orgasm hit like lightning. I cried out, shuddering, burying my face in his neck as I clenched around him. But he wasn’t done. Roman growled, grabbed me by the waist, and moved fast—too fast. He grabbed my waist, rose to his feet and hoisted me up against the wall. I wrapped my legs around him. His cock was already hard again. “Again?” he murmured against my lips.“Please,” I begged. He didn’t wait. Didn’t need to. He slammed into me against the wall, and I cried out. His grip on my thighs tightened. My nails dug into his back. It was filthy and raw and rough—exactly how I wanted it. I reached for him and kissed him hard. It was messy. Hungry. Desperate. My head lolled back as he drove into me, hard and fast, grunting with every thrust. I could swear the wall rattled. The painting above us tilted. I came with a scream, tightening around him, and he followed seconds later, jerking into me with a final growl. But we weren’t done. Not at all. He carried me to the bed. This time, he laid me down gently. Crawled over me. Kissed my lips. My neck. My chest. My soul. Then he slid inside again. But slowly, this time. Face to face. Heart to heart. His hands cradled my face. My legs were wide, wrapped around his hips. Every stroke was purposeful. He was watching me. Eyes locked on mine. I touched his cheek. Ran my fingers through his hair. Moaned his name like I'd forget it if I didn't. His thrusts grew slower, more intense. The ache turned sweet. I felt everything. His heartbeat. His breath. His heat. His love. “I love you, Sav.” He whispered in my ear. My hands went around his neck, holding tight, refusing to reply for fear that it might be the sign of a storm approaching. Call me superstitious or crazy, I don't mind. But Roman's love deceleration didn't sound like it came from pure love. It sounded like it came from… fear.