From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 18

**Chapter 13: We Shouldn’t Be Doing This, Roman**

Savannah

Dean’s gaze remained fixed on me, the smug grin that had once adorned his face now completely erased.

“You’re out of your mind,” he remarked, retreating a few strokes in the water, as if distancing himself from my unconventional behavior.

I tilted my head slightly, a casual shrug escaping my shoulders. “Crazy? Maybe. But at least I own it,” I replied, a hint of defiance lacing my words.

Before Dean could retort, a voice sliced through the air, sharp and commanding, like a whip cracking.

“Sav, get out of the pool.”

My heart plummeted.

I turned, and there he was—Roman.

He stood at the edge of the deck, his fists clenched tightly, jaw set in a way that suggested he was on the verge of snapping. His dark eyes were ablaze with fury, locked onto mine as if I were a lit fuse ready to ignite.

“Roman?” I blinked, taken aback by the intensity radiating from him.

He extended his hand, his voice low and urgent. “Come with me.”

I glanced around, feeling the weight of several curious stares from lingering onlookers, their eyes drawn to our escalating tension. Even little Emily was watching us, wide-eyed and curious.

His nostrils flared, a clear sign of his agitation. “Now.”

“Is everything okay, Roman?” I asked cautiously, attempting to keep my tone even, though my heart raced.

Dean sidled up next to me, puffing out his chest with an air of arrogance. “She’s clearly not finished with her swim—”

“I wasn’t addressing you,” Roman snapped, his eyes never leaving mine, the intensity of his gaze making my stomach twist.

The atmosphere crackled with tension, thick and electric.

“Get out of the pool, Sav,” he commanded, each word ground out through clenched teeth, the urgency palpable in his voice.

I hesitated, not out of fear, but from sheer confusion.

“Roman, what’s the matter?”

I climbed the ladder slowly, acutely aware of the silence that enveloped us, as though the world had paused to witness our exchange. I pulled on a robe, fumbling to tie the sash with trembling fingers, my heart racing in my chest.

Roman didn’t utter another word. Instead, he seized my wrist and pulled me into the house with a firm grip that, while not painful, conveyed a clear message: there was no escaping this confrontation.

Once we were inside, the door slamming shut behind us, I yanked my hand free, the air thick with unspoken words.

“You want to explain what that was all about?”

Roman turned to face me, his expression igniting like a match struck against a rough surface. “You think he wants you back?”

I blinked, momentarily stunned by his accusation. “What?”

“Dean is trying to worm his way into your head and your heart,” he spat, the bitterness in his tone unmistakable. “He knows you still have feelings for him, and he’s playing you like a fiddle. That son of a bitch was ogling you like you were some kind of dessert. And you—you let him.”

A sharp breath escaped my lips, the weight of his words hitting me hard. “Jesus, Roman. That’s not what this is about.”

He let out a hollow laugh, bitter and devoid of humor. “Right. Because it’s totally innocent. Just you, half-naked, giggling in the pool while your sister’s fiancé practically drooled over you.”

My eyes narrowed, indignation flaring. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he shot back, his voice edged with frustration. “Why did you even wear that bikini?”

My jaw dropped in disbelief. “Oh, I’m sorry, should I have worn a nun’s habit to the pool?”

“Savannah,” he barked, stepping closer, invading my space. “You think I didn’t notice the way he was looking at you? You think he wasn’t undressing you with his eyes?”

“Why are you acting like this?” I hissed, instinctively backing away a step, the anger and confusion swirling within me.

“Because I know guys like him.” His voice dropped low, dark and dangerous. “Because I used to be one.”

That revelation stopped me in my tracks.

We locked eyes, breathing heavily, the silence between us thick and charged.

And then it dawned on me.

Oh.

I tilted my head, a teasing smirk creeping onto my lips. “Wait, bestie… is this about Dean, or is this about you being weirdly territorial and, dare I say, a bit horned up?”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. “What?”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re all worked up. Pupils dilated. Breathing like you just sprinted a mile. You sure this isn’t a classic case of sexual frustration, Roman?”

His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in irritation. “Sav.”

“Because if it is,” I teased, poking him playfully in the chest, “that’s not my problem, Blackwood.”

He caught my hand, his grip firm yet playful.

I tried to pull away, laughter bubbling up, but he held on, his eyes darkening with a mixture of frustration and something else—something deeper.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered against my skin, his breath hot and heavy.

Then his hand came up, cupping my breast through the fabric, and I gasped, arching into him, the sensation igniting every nerve ending. He squeezed, firm and possessive, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through me. His mouth returned to mine, rougher, hungrier, as if he were trying to consume me whole.

I felt him—hard, undeniable—pressing into my hip, the reality of our situation crashing down on me.

Oh.

His body pinned me to the wall, and suddenly, I was hot everywhere. Breathless. Throbbing.

“Roman,” I whispered, my hips instinctively shifting against him.

His other hand slid down to my thigh, gripping it tightly, fingers teasing the edge of my bikini bottoms. “You don’t know how hard you’re making this.”

“I think I do,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.

His teeth grazed my neck, igniting a fire within me.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Roman.” My voice was barely a whisper, a plea wrapped in uncertainty.

“I don’t care,” he replied, his determination unwavering.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hand kneading my breast, thumb flicking over my nipple through the fabric, sending tremors through me.

Just as his hand slipped lower—

A scream.

High-pitched. From outside. Then another.

Roman froze, the moment shattering like glass.

My body went cold, the warmth of desire evaporating in an instant.

We pulled apart, both of us breathless and disoriented, the reality of our situation crashing down around us. My robe hung open, my lips swollen from his kisses, his chest heaving with exertion. His erection still pressed against me for a moment longer before he stepped back, jaw tight with tension.

“What the hell—?”

We rushed toward the patio doors, another scream piercing through the air.

Someone was yelling near the pool.

Roman flung the doors open, and chaos met us, the world outside spiraling into a whirlwind of panic.

And just like that, our moment was gone.