Chapter 144 Sleep Works Wonders By morning, my suspicion had hardened into certainty. It was him. It was always the General. Every piece fit now. The paranoia, the lies, the sudden need to see, the fake illness that Reese spoke about. He wasn’t sick—he was just setting the stage. Pretending to be frail so we’d come running. So he could get us both in one place. His delusion had reached a point where he believed I was pregnant. And if I had been… if there was truly a life inside me… he would’ve harmed me. Harmed his own grandchild. That realization made my stomach twist. I didn’t know what was worse—his madness, or the fact that none of his children had seen it. How could a family full of powerful, intelligent people have missed the truth right under their noses? The signs were there all along. Maybe they were all blind. Or maybe they were just afraid to open their eyes. A soft weight on my chest shifted, and I blinked, startled out of my thoughts. They still churned in my mind like a storm, but then Roman stirred against me, reminding me of the only calm I had left. His face was still buried close, his hair a mess. Even half-asleep and rumpled, he looked impossibly good—like the series man in the world. His voice was rough when he spoke. “A penny for your thoughts?” I smiled faintly. “You’re awake.” He looked up at me, eyes hazy with sleep, lips curved into a teasing grin. “I am. Thanks for pointing that out.” The smirk was so him—arrogant, playful, disarming. The kind that could undo me without even trying. I almost rolled my eyes, almost punched his shoulder for being an insufferable flirt before breakfast—but then I remembered how he’d burned with fever last night, flushed and exhausted. My concern overpowered my sarcasm. I pressed my palm to his forehead, relieved when I felt the warmth had subsided. “Thank God,” I breathed. “You’re better now.” He nodded slowly, eyes still on me. “Because of you.” I looked away too quickly. “Because of sleep,” I countered, my voice softer than I meant it to be. “Sleep works wonders, you know.” He chuckled under his breath, amused. “You don’t say.” Then he pushed up from my chest and sat at the edge of the bed, stretching. The shirt he had on slid up his torso, and I had to look away again, pretending the sudden heat in my face was from the invisible sunlight sneaking through the closed curtains. “I’ll go freshen up,” he said. “Be right back.” “Okay,” I whispered. When he disappeared into the guest room he's been staying in, I finally sat up, running my hands through my hair and letting out a shaky breath. I could still hear the echo of my thoughts, but they soon quieted under the sound of running water. By the time I washed my face and brushed my teeth, the reflection staring back at me in the mirror almost looked normal again. I told myself I wouldn’t bring up the General. Not now. Not when we’d just found a moment of calm. When I stepped back into the room, Roman was already out, still in the same shirt and lounging at the edge of the bed, phone in hand. He looked like he belonged there. Like he’d never left. I cleared my throat lightly. “Are you going to the office today?”He looked up, lips quirking. “It’s the weekend, Savannah.” “Oh.” My cheeks flamed again. “Right. I knew that. We should, um, probably get started on breakfast then.” I turned too quickly, eager to escape my own awkwardness, but I didn’t get far. His hand caught mine before I reached the door. In one smooth motion, he tugged me back, pulling me down until I landed on his thigh. I gasped, caught off guard. His arms came around me, firm, protective, as if his body instinctively knew how to fit against mine. He rested his head against the curve of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. “Roman,” I whispered, heart skipping. “What are you doing?” His voice came low, quiet, almost breaking. “I’m sorry, my love.” I froze, the tenderness in his tone catching me off guard. “For what?” “For everything,” he murmured, his hand tightening around mine. “For hurting you. For the words I shouldn’t have said. For everything I did that hurt you. Do you forgive me?”The silence that followed felt thick, filled with all the things we hadn’t said. I turned slightly, facing him. His eyes were searching mine with a kind of desperation I’d never seen before. “There’s nothing to forgive,” I said softly. “Because I never held anything against you. We were both wrong. If you’re asking for forgiveness, then I should too.” He didn’t speak at first. He just looked at me, the tension in his face softening, something raw and unguarded flickering there. Then he spoke. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he whispered. The way he said it made my chest ache. I laughed faintly, trying to breathe past the sudden lump in my throat. “I could say the same thing.” He leaned in then—slowly, deliberately—his gaze dropping to my lips. But just before closing the distance, he hesitated, his breath catching. “Don’t even think about asking,” I warned under my breath. That broke the last thread between us. I met him halfway, and when our lips finally touched, something inside me cracked open. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was the kind that devoured and healed all at once. The kind that spoke the words neither of us could say out loud.The taste of him, the hotness of his breath—everything felt too much and not enough. I let out a sound I couldn’t control, half sigh, half moan, and felt him respond instantly, deepening the kiss. Roman shifted, guiding me backward until my spine met the mattress. Then, with a sudden reversal, he lay back, pulling me with him so that I straddled him. My heart thundered in my chest as I looked down at him—his hair messy, lips kiss-swollen, eyes dark with something that made my pulse race faster. His hands settled on my hips. “Savannah…” he said my name like a prayer. “I love you. I'll never stop loving you.” “I know,” I whispered. He searched my face for something. But all I could do was look at him, my breath shaky, my thoughts dissolving one by one until all that was left was him. I kissed him again, slowly dragging my lips down his neck. I traced a line down his body with my tongue until I reached his waist. My fingertips trembled. His breath hitched. The small sound that escaped him made my entire body hum. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was heavy, electric.Then he whispered, “You don’t have to.” “I want to,” I breathed, surprising even myself with the certainty in my voice. “I want to do this for you.” He exhaled shakily, his hand cupping my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip. The look in his eyes wasn’t lust—it was reverence. It wasn’t about making love. It wasn’t even about forgiveness. It was about belonging again. “Savannah…” “Shh.” I pressed my finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything.” For once, there was no anger. No blame. No ghosts between us. Just us—finally, fully, quietly—finding our way back to each other. Everything else could wait. Even breakfast. I pulled him up into a sitting position, then sank down onto my knees between his legs. I tugged at his pants and he raised his hips to enable me pull them down. His dick sprang free instantly. Roman’s sharp inhale cut the air. “Fuck.” My hands were steady as I touched him, curiosity mixing with something bolder. The first brush of my lips over his dick was tentative, experimental, but the effect was instant. His whole body jolted, his head tipping back with a guttural sound. “Sav…” he groaned, gripping the sheets beside him. I smirked around him, emboldened. Each movement of my mouth on his length grew more confident, teasing strokes that had him swearing, unraveling. When I glanced up, his eyes were locked on me alone. “You’re actually—” He cut himself off with a shuddering groan, running a hand through his hair. “God, you’re actually doing this. I've imagined you doing this so many times.” My answer was a low hum around him, sending vibrations that tore a curse from his throat. His thighs tensed under my palms. Control slipped from his grasp by the second. He reached down, threading his fingers through my hair, tentative at first. I leaned into it, letting the strands gather in his grip, showing him I wanted it. That was all the invitation he needed—his hand tightened, guiding me, and the low growl that followed rattled my bones. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his voice wrecked. Every sound spilling from him only drove me harder. I wanted to hear him come apart, wanted to see the sharp, arrogant lines of his face dissolve into raw need. I pulled back slightly, lips glistening, and met his eyes with a wicked gleam. “You taste better than I thought.” His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching hard. “Don’t—don’t tease me right now.” My only answer was to take him deeper, my throat working around him until his curses blurred together, until his hand fisted tight in my hair—so tight I nearly came on the spot, until his hips jerked despite his attempt to hold back. He was swearing, moaning, my name spilling rough from his lips, his whole body trembling on the edge. “Fuck, I’m close—” His warning broke off in a strangled groan. I didn’t stop. I pressed harder, dragged my nails up his thighs, and felt his control snap. His body seized with release, shudders ripping through him as his voice cracked around my name. I pulled away for a second to tell him: “in my mouth, Roman.” “Fuck!” His hold on my hair tightened as he thrust up, filling my tongue with spurt after spurt of his release. His eyes were closed in pleasure, his hand holding me down as I swallowed everything he had to give. Not letting a single drop go to waste. When he opened his eyes again, dazed and undone, I was still kneeling there, lips wet, eyes shining with wicked triumph. Slowly, I licked my mouth, then sat back on my heels, chest heaving. He looked ruined—head tipped back, hair sticking to his forehead, chest rising like he’d just run miles. “You’re so fucking perfect.” he rasped, voice still raw. I climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap, the robe slipping off my body—courtesy of Roman. Smirking, I whispered. “I've been wanting to do that for a long time.” His laugh was breathless, weak. But he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he pulled me against him, kissing me with the kind of hunger that said I’d just rewired everything between us.