From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 43

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**Chapter 29: That Happened**

The car enveloped us in an eerie silence, a stillness that felt almost surreal.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, its gentle patter now a soft whisper against the world beyond the glass. I pressed my palms against the cool surface, feeling the condensation bead beneath my fingertips. The remnants of our encounter clung to me; my dress was torn along the sides, and my panties lay in tatters, evidence of the chaos that had unfolded. Warmth trickled down my thighs, a reminder of him, thick and intimate. My skin still tingled where his lips had lingered, each breath brushing against my sensitive nipples like an electric tease. I could still sense his hands, strong and possessive, around my throat.

As I shifted my position, a wave of sensation washed over me, not painful but intense, as if every nerve ending had come alive. There was a hum within me, a resonance that vibrated through my entire being.

Roman reclined in the seat beside me, his chest rising and falling with a heavy rhythm, the weight of the moment hanging between us. My legs, now draped across his seat, felt both foreign and familiar. The fogged windows created a barrier, making it seem as though we existed in a world separate from reality, one that was entirely our own.

“Well,” he finally broke the silence, his voice rough and gravelly, “that happened.”

I turned to meet his gaze, and there it was—his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. Words failed me; I was at a loss for what to say in that charged moment.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I looked utterly disheveled. My lipstick had vanished, and my bob was a wild mess, likely reflecting the turmoil within. I felt wrecked, but not just physically; I was emotionally shattered, all because of him.

His eyes darkened again, and my breath hitched in my throat. It was as if he could peer into the depths of my thoughts without even trying, reading my confusion and fear like an open book.

We fell into another stretch of silence, the only sounds accompanying us were our breaths, the gentle ticking of the cooling engine, and the rhythmic patter of rain against the roof. I couldn’t meet his gaze without being reminded of how he felt—how he filled me completely, how I had clenched around him, how he had kissed me right after, as if I were everything he had ever wanted.

I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat.

“We should… probably go home,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

Roman nodded, but he made no move to start the car. I mirrored his stillness, a part of me reluctant to leave this moment behind.

The truth was, I still wanted him.

As foolish and as wrong as it felt, the desire surged within me. I yearned for him again; I craved his touch everywhere.

Roman must have sensed the shift in my demeanor.

“Sav,” he murmured softly, a rough edge to his tone. “Hey. You good?”

I straightened up slowly, my hands trembling as I tugged my dress back into place. “Yeah,” I lied again, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “Just… dizzy.”

He let out a quiet laugh, a breathy sound that suggested he was unsure if laughter was appropriate in this moment. “Dizzy from vertigo or from how hard I just fucked you?”

I whipped my head around to glare at him, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. His smirk faded almost instantly, and the moment hung between us, raw and vulnerable.

Our eyes locked, and in that instant, I felt a wave of fear wash over me.

I no longer felt sexy or wild or unstoppable. Instead, a sense of terror gripped me.

Because I was acutely aware of what we had just done. I had recklessly sacrificed the one good thing in my life for a night of wild passion.

Roman was my anchor. My best friend.

What did this mean for our friendship? The most precious bond we shared?

Now, what were we? Where did this leave us? What was next?

Roman continued to look at me, confusion etched on his face as if he couldn’t comprehend why I was so still. I marveled at his calmness, at how he didn’t seem to see the gravity of the situation as I did.

He was gazing at me as if this had all been part of some grand design, as if it had been meant to happen.

And I was lost, utterly bewildered by what lay ahead.

The silence felt deafening.

It was an oppressive quiet that stretched between us, two people who had crossed an irretrievable line.

Roman’s shirt hung half-open, clinging to his chest, glistening with sweat. His jeans were still unzipped, resting low on his thighs. My heart raced, my thigh smeared with a mixture of us—his release mingling with mine.