From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 17

**Chapter 12: Not In The Mood, Chloe**

**Roman**

I never intended to kiss her—not in that way, at least. Not with her soft moans mingling with my breath, and my hands practically itching to strip away that bikini in broad daylight for all to see.

But the moment she stepped out of the house, draped in that scandalous ensemble of red strings, all semblance of restraint vanished into thin air.

Emily’s laughter floated just a few feet away, a lighthearted sound that felt worlds apart from the storm brewing inside me.

All I could think about was tearing that bikini off her and claiming her as mine, right there in front of everyone.

Every promise I had made to myself, every good intention, turned to ash in an instant.

I envisioned pinning her against the pool wall, losing myself in her, oblivious to the fact that her entire family could be watching.

That kiss? It was as real as it gets. Not a single ounce of pretense. I wanted her.

And the truth is, I still want her. Desperately.

I could sense that she felt it too, and that realization sent a shiver of fear down my spine. The intensity of my feelings for her was troubling—an overwhelming desire that threatened to shatter everything we had built.

Best friends shouldn’t be consumed by thoughts of each other in such a primal way. Yet, here I was, imagining bending Savannah over in every possible position my mind could conjure.

I pictured her bent over my desk, moaning my name against the glass of the shower, writhing beneath me on her childhood bed while her sister’s bridal playlist played softly in the background.

Damn it. This wasn’t helping at all.

How the hell did we find ourselves in this tangled mess?

I barely registered the chill of the air against my damp skin as I stepped outside. Emily’s giggles echoed around me, bouncing off the stone patio like an annoying soundtrack I couldn’t escape. The cold tiles felt slick beneath my feet, remnants of the water clinging to my body. My breath came in short gasps.

And my body?

Rock hard. Like steel.

Every muscle tensed, my fists clenched tightly as if I were preparing to punch a wall—or someone’s face.

I forced myself to move, to slip into the shadows of the corridor and head toward our bedroom, but the sudden click of a door halted me mid-step.

Chloe.

She emerged from a bedroom, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed at her phone, as if it were a camera capturing a perfect moment. Clad in a robe, one silk strap slipped down her shoulder, an unspoken invitation that made my heart race.

I noticed how she quickly concealed her phone behind her when she caught sight of me, as if hiding something she didn’t want me to see.

Her smile was there, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, feigning surprise, as though I hadn’t been lurking around since yesterday.

“Attending your wedding, blondie,” I replied, my tone flat, devoid of any warmth.

Her smile faltered, her eyes darting to the left and back again.

The weight of guilt—whatever she was hiding—was evident in her posture. Shoulders hunched, arms loose, she looked like someone caught red-handed doing something scandalous.

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, her voice laced with irritation.

“What, blondie?” I tilted my head, a smirk creeping onto my face. “Did I hit a nerve?”

She stepped closer, arms crossing defensively over her chest, her voice tight with tension. “Did Savannah bring you here to ruin my wedding? She’s always been a bitter, unstable witch.” Her crystal blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Watch it,” I warned, my voice dropping to a low, menacing growl. “One more word like that, and your fiancé will be yanking that ring off your lying little finger.”

Her eyes widened, and she instinctively cradled her hand as if I had already snatched the ring away.

“Does she know?” she whispered, her voice now a calculated murmur.

“No,” I replied firmly. “And I intend to keep it that way.”

A slow, triumphant smile spread across her face. “You’re in love. Again.”

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