Chapter 99 Welcome Home, Roman My back hit the door, his body pinning mine. The kiss was raw, weeks of hunger pressed into one clash of teeth and tongue. I melted against him, fingers gripping his shoulders, legs trembling already. “You like making me wait?” he rasped against my lips. “I couldn’t just—” My protest broke off into a gasp when his hand slid under my skirt. “Roman—” “Shh.” His mouth claimed my throat, biting, sucking, marking. “You’re mine now. For the rest of the day. I don’t care what strings I had to pull to get you here.” Heat shot through me at his words. I hated how much his possessiveness ignited something deep inside me, hated how much I wanted to give in. His hands squeezed my ass, making me gasp. “I've missed you so much. And damn, you're so beautiful.” “Roman, what if someone—” “No one comes in when my door’s locked.” His voice was sharp, final. “No one sees you like this but me.” His desk loomed behind him, wide and sleek, covered in files. Without warning, he lifted me by the thighs and set me on it, papers scattering. My eyes darted to the door as I let out a startled cry, but it turned into a moan when he pressed between my legs, grinding against me. “Spread for me,” he ordered. My breath caught. He didn’t wait for obedience. Instead his hands hurriedly pulled my pencil skirt upwards and pushed my knees apart, his body sliding between, his mouth crashing down on mine again. His hand tore at my panties, dragging them aside with rough impatience. “Roman, we can’t—” “We can. We are.” His fingers plunged into me, and I choked on a cry. “So wet already. You came here knowing exactly what would happen.” “Yes… yes… I did. Fuck yes, I did.” My nails dug into his shoulders as he worked me, relentless, fast, my head falling back, hair spilling across the desk.The sound of my moans echoed in the office, mixing with the wet slap of his fingers. Too loud. Too risky. Too much. My eyes still found the door, pleasure mixed perfectly with the thrill of being seen. “Please,” I gasped. “Please what?” His thumb circled my clit, and my body jolted. “Please—Roman, I need—” “You need me,” he growled, undoing his belt with one hand while keeping the other pressed against me, dragging me closer to the edge. “Say it.” “I—yes, I need you.” He yanked his cock free, hard and thick, and slammed into me in one thrust that knocked the air from my lungs. I cried out, clutching his shirt, nails biting through the fabric. “Roman—” “That’s it.” His voice was a low snarl as he pounded into me, the desk creaking under the force. “Take me. Let the whole damn city hear who you belong to.” The pace was brutal, raw, my body shaking with every thrust. The sharp edge of the desk dug into my back, but I couldn’t care. Not with him filling me, owning me, fucking me like no one else ever could. He grabbed my jaw, forcing my gaze on him. “Eyes on me, Savannah. You don’t get to look away.” Tears of pleasure blurred my vision, but I nodded, mouth falling open in a broken moan as he slammed harder, faster. Communicating just how much he'd missed me through his strokes. My orgasm hit like a wave crashing over rock, violent and unstoppable. My body arched, legs wrapping around him, pulling him deeper as I shattered against him. Roman cursed, biting my shoulder as he kept driving into me, chasing his own release. When he finally came, it was with a growl that reverberated against my skin, his body tensing, cock pulsing deep inside me. For a moment, the world was nothing but heavy breathing, sweat, and the smell of sex in the polished air of his office. “Long time no see, Sav.” He whispered against my cheek, trying to steady his breathing. I tightened my legs around him, leaning back a little. “Welcome home, Roman.” He threw his head back and laughed. A deep, genuine laughter that made me smile along with him like a fool. He didn’t pull away afterwards. Instead, he held me tight, forehead pressed to mine, his hand cupping the back of my neck. “Now you know how much I missed you,” he whispered, softer this time but no less dangerous. “And I’ll remind you of that as often as I need to.” I trembled, still caught between exhaustion and aftershocks, and hated how much I loved hearing it. When he finally eased out of me, he adjusted his shirt and pants while I scrambled to smooth my skirt, knowing I probably looked wrecked. Roman only smirked, satisfied, and leaned down to press one last kiss to my swollen lips. “Stay with me,” he ordered. “Rest. Everyone at your office thinks you’re on a well-earned day off. But you’ll know the truth.” My cheeks burned. “The truth?” I echoed. “That you spent it being fucked on my desk.”I wanted to recoil and hide, to melt into shame and secrecy, but something in me balked at that too-easy humiliation. There was a ridiculous impulse—a Savannah-ism—that always surfaced when I was at my rawest. A joke, a defiant line, a tiny spark of light in the dark. So I tried to gather that shard and let it breathe. He watched me, still holding my face as if he were measuring each pulse of me, then tilted his head and— in the most baffling, pitch-shifting move— said, as if he were arranging the day’s calendar rather than having just claimed me on polished mahogany. “Let me take you out for lunch and we'll pretend we’re just friends for the rest of the day. What do you say?” He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Friends have coffee. Friends stay out of trouble. Friends don’t ruin each other’s reputations at work.” For a second the absurdity of it nearly knocked the breath out of me. Who says that after fucking someone in an office? The line was so calm, so domestic, it felt like someone had reached in and swapped the soundtrack—passionate heat now replaced by playful sitcom air. “Friends?” I echoed, because I needed to hear the word aloud, to see where it landed on his face.He shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world to go from that to casual companionship. “Yeah. Friends.” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “You're unusually happy today.” He merely shrugged. “I finally got to see my favourite girl again after seven long fucking days. I'm ecstatic.” “Friend.” I corrected him playfully. Then his eyes hardened just a degree, dangerous again. “Friends who know which parts of you are mine.” The combination of the offhand casual and the pointed possessiveness cracked me. I couldn’t tell if I should laugh or cry. What came out was a short, stunned sound, half laugh, half sob. And then, because I couldn’t help myself, because this is the girl I am, I said it with as much breathless, incredulous glee as I could muster. “Fine. Friends it is.” He smiled then—a small, private thing that belonged only to us—and kissed me quick, a seal on the ridiculous compromise. It was absurd and comforting all at once. The same lips that’d just ruined me on a desk now pressed a gentle promise.His fingers lingered at the nape of my neck before he finally let go. “We’ll see how long the pretense lasts before I crave you again,” he murmured. “And if anyone asks, tell them friends ran away for coffee.” I stumbled out of the office, skirt crooked, hair untamed, the scent of him clinging to the curve of my throat. I could feel his eyes on me as the door clicked shut behind me, the thud of my own pulse loud in my ears. Back in the elevator, private again, something ridiculous bubbled up. The image of us, sitting across from each other at a café, perfect and domestic, sipping lattes like strangers after a scandal. The thought was so different from what we’d just done it made my head spin, and a giddy, stupid smile spread across my face. Oh, what a perfect day!