Chapter 32 Sleep Turns You On The next morning, I woke up and pretended to still be asleep. The reason? There was a big, warm teddy bear behind me, spooning me like he had no intention of ever letting go. He was already awake. I could tell from the way he breathed. Slow and controlled. And I had no idea how to face him. Not after what I’d asked him last night. “I know you’re awake,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. I fought the urge to flinch. Instead, I stayed perfectly still, keeping my breathing soft and steady like I was still deep in sleep. He chuckled dangerously. It rumbled against my back and made my skin prickle. “So that’s how you want to play it?” His voice was all tease, all heat. “Then let’s play, love.” My pulse jumped. I gripped the mattress discreetly, bracing. But nothing came.He didn’t move. A few seconds passed. Then a full minute. Still, he just held me. Close. Warm. Just when my body began to relax— His hand slid over my chest, slowly cupping one breast. Not extreme. Just a gentle palm. His fingers didn’t rush. Not one bit. He simply rested them there at first, on the soft curve of my breast, as if he was testing me, waiting for me to flinch, gasp, fold. I didn’t. But when his thumb lazily brushed over my nipple, I felt my body betray me again. A slow roll of heat coiled at my center, my toes curled into the sheets. Still, I held on. My breathing shaky but controlled. “Still asleep, love?” His laugh was low, dark, amused. He knew exactly what he was doing. He kneaded me gently, his large palm cradling the softness of my breast with slow, deliberate pressure. Not rushed. Not frantic. Just… claiming. As if he had all the time in the world to memorize the weight of me in his hand.Still, I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Roman chuckled under his breath. “Guess I’ll take that as a yes.” My breath hitched. I couldn’t help it. I held my ground, still playing dead. Barely acting out the part as it is. And then—God—his hand slid downward. Past my stomach. Under the waistband of my sleep shorts. Below my lace panties. His fingers slipped past the barrier of my panties and found heat. Wet heat. He froze for a second. Then made a sound so smug, so wickedly male, I almost broke character right then. “Well, well,” he whispered. “Someone’s drenched. Guess sleep turns you on, hm?” The other hand tightened around my breast, squeezing intensely this time. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the whimper clawing its way up my throat. Every nerve ending in my body lit up, alert and breathless, as his fingers dipped into me with a slow, maddening stroke. One finger first—teasing. I wanted to throttle him. Or kiss him. Or both. Still, I didn’t move. I couldn’t give in. Not yet. I gripped the sheets harder, squeezing my thighs together slightly, but it was useless. My body was already melting for him. Then he added another finger, thick and deliberate. My hips bucked. Just once. Just enough to tell him he had me, helpless and dripping on his hand, and I mentally cursed myself. Pretending to be asleep while your body is practically weeping was harder than I thought. My nipple tightened beneath his palm, betraying me, and he let out a low, knowing hum. “Such a bad liar,” he murmured against my neck, lips barely grazing my skin. Still asleep, Savannah. Still asleep. Still freaking asleep. He moved them inside me with slow, deliberate curls, hitting that exact spot that made my entire spine tingle. He didn’t go fast. Roman wasn’t cruel. He was calculated. Wicked in the way that left you begging without shame. Showing he knew just how to unravel me with patience. His fingers moved—slow curls that hit a spot so deep and sharp I saw stars. My breathing faltered. “You’re shaking,” he smirked. “You’re going to come for me, pretending to be asleep. That’s filthy, love.” I was falling apart silently, eyes still shut, pretending like I hadn’t just been reduced to a trembling, soaking mess with his hand buried deep between my thighs. And just when I thought I couldn’t take another second, he did it—curled his fingers just right—and I saw stars. I had to slam my teeth down on my bottom lip to keep the moan in. My chest arched forward involuntarily, traitor that it was. “Damn,” he breathed, barely touching the shell of my ear. “You’re trying so hard, aren’t you? Lying here like a good little girl… when all you want to do is cry out and beg.” He shifted slightly, pressing his chest tighter against my back as he curled his fingers again. A quiet moan slipped from me. I instantly bit it back.He didn’t let up. His fingers worked me expertly, languid and sinful, curling in a rhythm that felt like torture. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll be gentle. I won’t make you scream. Just a little tremble under my fingers. That’s all I need.” I was right on the edge. Gasping without gasping, breath hitching without sound, toes curling under the sheets. “Just like that, love. Come for me.” He whispered in my ear. He started curling them again, slow and steady, dragging me right to the edge like he knew I couldn’t afford to fall. Not yet. Not when— Knock knock. “Savannah, dear!” Mom's cheery but semi-exhausted voice filtered through the door. “Your sister's back home! Your presence is required downstairs. Can you come down, please?” I almost cried. Roman stilled his fingers, then chuckled darkly. His fingers stayed inside me, pressed deep and still, as if he had every intention of leaving me like that. I took a shaky breath, trying to calm the racing of my heart, and forced myself to stretch like I was just waking up. “Oh… okay, I’m coming,” I called out weakly, voice sleep-rough. My mother’s footsteps faded. Roman leaned in, dragging his mouth along my neck, his fingers still buried inside me, unmoving but maddeningly present. “You’re not coming yet, love.” he whispered with a devilish smirk. “But you will be. Just not until I say so.” Then, with an obscene slowness, he pulled his fingers out—wet, glistening, unapologetically proud—and got out of bed. “Better go downstairs, love,” he said with a wink, licking his fingers as he walked away. “You wouldn’t want to keep mommy waiting.” I glared at his back as he disappeared into the bathroom. Smug asshole. Horny. Frustrated. And so goddamn cranky. What a horrible day I'm going to have, I thought as I freshened up. But all the playfulness from earlier disappeared the moment I went downstairs and walked into the scene unfolding. Dean was there. My stomach dropped instantly. He was sitting on a stool on the island. A bag of frozen peas against his cheek, spotting a very obvious black eye and busted lip. Chloe was holding onto him like he was her life support. My entire family gathered around him. Then he pointed. Straight at me. All eyes turned to me. “It was her fault. Savannah’s to be blamed for this.”