Chapter 146 Love And Devotion Savannah We had breakfast closer to noon, though “breakfast” might be too generous considering the morning we’d had. I could barely stand without wincing. My thighs ached, and my throat was raw from moaning his name into the sheets. Still, I felt light—like the air around us had cleared and all that was left was this heavy, dizzying sort of happiness. Roman was behind me, his chest pressed against my back as I moved around the kitchen, pretending to look for something to cook. His arms circled my waist, holding me in place, his head resting lazily on the curve of my neck. “You’re going to cause me to burn myself if you keep holding me like that,” I warned, laughing softly as he nuzzled into my shoulder. His voice came low and smug. “It’s not gonna be on me, my love. Let me just order takeout. We can get back in bed.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re unbelievable.” He ground his hips into me, slow and enticing, and I felt the hard outline of him through his sweats. “I’m still burning for you,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. I swallowed hard, every nerve in me standing at attention. “And we’d do that all day?” I asked, my voice unsteady. “Yes.” His lips grazed my neck. “I want to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days.” The words hit me like a spark. My fingers froze on the countertop, the scent of butter and coffee hanging in the air between us. I could feel my heartbeat everywhere—behind my ribs, between my legs, in my throat. “You’re not making this easy for me, Roman,” I whispered. He chuckled, his tone sinful. “And you’re making this exceptionally hard for me right now.” When he pressed himself against me again, there was nothing subtle about it. “Let me order takeout,” he murmured. “I just want today to be about us.” That was all it took. I turned off the stove without a word. The silence after the soft click of the knob was deafening, thick with anticipation. “Good girl,” he rasped, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts, thumbs teasing the sensitive peaks until my head fell back against his shoulder.A quiet moan escaped me. My breath came out uneven as he kneaded gently, the warmth of his palms burning through the thin fabric of my top. “Do you like that?” he asked against my ear, his voice low and rough. I nodded, unable to trust my voice. My tongue darted out to wet my lips. “Yes. Don’t stop. Please don’t.” He chuckled—a dark, quiet sound that sent shivers racing down my spine. “I’ve got to order takeout, my love.” I blinked, half-dazed. “What?” He pulled back slightly, one of his hands slipping lower, beneath the elastic of my shorts. My breath caught. “Unless,” he murmured, “you’d rather I have something else.” His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns that had me clutching the counter to stay upright. “Roman,” I gasped, “you can have anything later. Just—not now. Not in this moment.” He pressed his palm against me, possessive and sure. “But I want it now.” That voice—low, commanding—drew obedience from a place deep inside me I didn’t know existed. I nodded before I even realized I was doing it. “Okay.” He stepped back, and I expected him to reach for his phone, but instead he took my hand. His grip was firm, his gaze hard as ever. “Come with me.” I followed, confused but helplessly aroused. The hem of my shorts brushed my thighs as he led me down the hallway. The air seemed thicker the closer we got to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he didn’t speak. He just led me inside, shut it quietly behind us, and released my hand. The sound of the lock sliding into place felt final. He walked to the bed with slow, measured steps, then sat down, leaning back on his elbows before stretching out fully. His body looked carved in the muted morning light—bare chest with my name on it, tousled hair, a lazy sort of command in the way he looked at me. “Roman?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended. He said nothing. His eyes moved down my body, then back up again, like he was studying every inch. “Take off your shorts.”My pulse jumped. “What?” “Take it off,” he repeated, his tone firm, not to be disobeyed. I hesitated, a shiver coursing through me. Then slowly, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down, letting them fall around my ankles. I stood there in my panties and a thin cotton top. “Take off your blouse, Savannah.” His voice deepened on my name, and something in me melted. My hands trembled slightly as I obeyed, peeling the top over my head. The air hit my bare skin and goosebumps followed. My discarded clothes pooled on the floor. I was about to ask him what he was doing—why this sudden shift—but the heat in his gaze silenced me. “Now the panties.” The room felt smaller, warmer, and impossibly still. My fingers hesitated at the waistband, and then, slowly, I slid them down. My breath came in shallow bursts as I kicked them aside. I stood naked before him, completely exposed, and yet not once did I feel the need to cover myself. He looked at me like I was something sacred. His eyes traveled from my face down the length of my body and back again, hunger and reverence tangled in equal measure. “Roman,” I whispered, not sure if it was a plea or a question. He didn’t answer immediately. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly—half a smirk, half awe. Then he sat up, his gaze still locked on me. “Now come here.” I took a cautious step forward, my knees feeling unsteady. “Closer,” he said, his voice rougher now, a command that left no room for hesitation. I moved until I stood at the edge of the bed. He leaned back on his elbows again, eyes burning into mine. “Now come sit on my face, Savannah.” The words sliced through the quiet like a spark in dry air. My breath caught. For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard him right. He waited—patient, sure. The kind of waiting that wasn’t really waiting at all, because we both knew I would obey. Heat pooled low in my belly, and a dizzy, trembling sort of surrender washed through me.I climbed onto the bed, my heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. Roman reached up and ran his hands along my thighs, his touch reverent, possessive, certain. And as I settled over him, all I could think was how impossible it was to tell where love ended and devotion began.