From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 13

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 13**

Roman flashed a cheeky smirk, pulling his shirt off with a casual grace that only seemed to amplify his infuriatingly perfect physique. “Come on now, Sav. Your dad only mentioned my hedge fund once. That’s practically restraint. I was half-expecting him to pop the question himself!”

With an exaggerated sigh, I flopped onto the bed, burying my face into the pillows, my voice muffled by the soft fabric. “He might as well have proposed. Honestly, he was practically swooning while you explained market volatility earlier. I thought he might faint!”

“I can’t help it if I’m irresistibly charming.” Roman began peeling off his slacks with a slow, deliberate confidence, the kind that suggested he was fully aware of the effect he had on me. He tossed the pants aside, leaving him clad only in snug black boxer briefs that did little to conceal the situation brewing below the waistband.

As his hands hovered over the waistband of his briefs, I felt a shiver of panic. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned, my tone firm.

“C’mon, Sav,” he coaxed, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I am not sharing a bed with you if you’re going to be completely naked, Roman,” I insisted, my resolve hardening.

“You know I can’t stand sleeping in clothes,” he retorted, a playful pout forming on his lips.

“And you know I can’t stand someone grinding their warm, hard parts against me,” I shot back, deadpan.

He stood there, a smirk plastered on his face, as if he were waiting for me to relent.

I lifted my head, my brow furrowing. “Could you not stand there like that?”

“Like what?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Like you’re about to audition for a GQ photo shoot. We’re supposed to be fake-engaged, not starring in a Calvin Klein ad!”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” he said, climbing onto the other side of the bed with an exaggerated flourish. “This body is just an added bonus in the fiancé package.”

I rolled onto my back, letting out a heavy sigh. “Why is there only one bed? This is a six-bedroom house. You’d think my mom would’ve thought to separate us.”

Roman’s grin widened. “She probably thinks we’re madly in love.” He made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers. “Which means she expects we’re already accustomed to ‘casually rubbing parts together.’”

I nearly choked on a laugh, the absurdity of his words hitting me hard. “Oh my god. That phrase should be banned from existence.”

He leaned closer, propped up on one elbow, his expression mischievous. “You said it, not me.”

I shot him a look, my curiosity piqued. “Okay, but hypothetically speaking. On a scale of one to ten, how weird would it be if we did… casually rub parts together?”

Without missing a beat, Roman replied, “Define ‘rub.’”

My eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Roman.”

“I’m just saying, context matters,” he said with a smirk. “An accidental thigh graze? That’s a three. An intentional butt scoot? Solid six. Anything above waist level, and we’re hitting eights.”

I groaned, pulling the covers up to my chin, feeling a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You are the absolute worst.”

With a flick of his wrist, he turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness, save for the soft glow of moonlight that illuminated his smug profile. “You love me,” he stated, his voice teasing.

“Fake love,” I corrected, trying to keep my tone light.

“Still counts,” he insisted with a chuckle.

A brief silence settled over us, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air.

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