From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 37

**Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 25: This Isn’t Acting**

I found myself still perched atop Roman, the weight of the moment pressing down on me like a heavy blanket. My chest rose and fell in rapid succession, each breath more labored than the last. My thighs quivered around his hips, a mix of exhilaration and something deeper stirring within me. My heart? It was a relentless jackhammer, pounding against my ribcage.

The room enveloped us in an almost eerie stillness.

Silence reigned supreme.

Except for the lingering thump of bass reverberating through the air from the track that had just faded into memory.

And the sound of my own heavy breathing mingling with the faint creak of the leather seat beneath Roman as I shifted my weight, pressing down just a fraction harder against him.

Just for the show, I reminded myself, a mantra I clung to.

Roman’s gaze was fixated on my mouth, his pupils dilated, lips slightly parted as if he were caught in a trance. His jaw was clenched tight, a silent battle waging within him, as if he were struggling to resist the temptation of crossing a line.

I pressed my palm firmly against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath my hand. “We should stop,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “They’re watching.”

With a sudden movement, Roman’s hand slid from my lower back to my backside, gripping me possessively, fingers spreading across the fabric of my outfit.

“Let them,” he replied, his voice low and sultry, a dark promise lacing his words. “You started this.”

A shiver of excitement coursed through me, my legs trembling not from fatigue, but from the undeniable coil of desire tightening within me. I leaned closer, my palms still pressed against his chest, and whispered into his ear, my breath warm against his skin, “We’re just putting on a show… right?”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his hands inching up my thighs in a slow, deliberate manner, as if he were savoring every moment. “Right,” he echoed, his voice rough and gravelly, his lips brushing against my ear. “Just giving them something to watch.”

“Good,” I replied, grinding down against him once more, feeling the heat radiate between us. My breath hitched in my throat as I did, the sensation overwhelming.

His hands climbed higher, exploring my body with a possessive urgency. “For the act.”

“A performance,” I whispered, kissing down his neck, my lips teasing the sensitive skin just above his collarbone.

“Finish it then,” he growled, thrusting upward into me again, his need unmistakable. “Make them remember what they’re missing.”

I locked eyes with him—dark, hungry, wild. His fingers slipped beneath the neckline of my top, brushing against bare skin, igniting a fire within me.

“I don’t think they’ll ever forget,” I breathed, leaning in closer, my lips grazing his ear.

With deliberate intent, I ground down again, feeling him—thick and hard, trapped beneath the layers of fabric, perfectly aligned with my aching core. No barriers. Just damp lace and tailored cloth separating us.

And the pressure?

God, it was maddening.

My hips rolled once, then again, my fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the heat radiate from him. “Still just a show?”

Roman growled low in his throat, pulling me tighter against him. His mouth found my neck, open and wet kisses morphing into bites that left bruises—proof of our reckless abandon.

His hand slipped between us, palming my breast right there in front of Dean and Chloe, squeezing hard enough that I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped my lips, loud, filthy, and needy.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, while Chloe stiffened, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Ew, stop,” I heard her spit out in anger, her voice laced with jealousy.

A smile crept onto my face, a wicked thrill coursing through me.

I gasped as Roman cupped my breasts through the scandalous fabric of my outfit, his thumbs brushing over my peaked nipples with a tantalizing pressure.

His mouth traveled to my throat, biting and sucking, sending jolts of electricity racing down my spine.

“For the act,” he repeated, almost like a curse, as one hand slipped behind me to knead my backside, pulling me tighter against the firm ridge of him pressing up through his pants.

I moaned, unable to contain the sound. It slipped out before I could stop it.

And Roman heard it.

He felt it.

He turned his face toward mine, capturing my lips in his, and the kiss exploded into a frenzy of passion.

Messy. Desperate. Our tongues collided without rhythm or restraint. It was a clash of teeth, groans, and heat.

His fingers tangled in my hair, while mine clutched his collar, as if I would fall if I let go. Our mouths moved together like we were starving for each other, as if we were the only two souls in existence.

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