From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 245

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 145: Like Home?**

**Roman**

In the labyrinth of my mind, I had conjured countless scenarios for how our reunion might unfold.

Perhaps I would slide a carefully planned dinner invitation through the narrow gap of her door, a simple yet heartfelt gesture.

Or maybe I would inundate her office and our shared space with a cascade of flowers, their fragrance enveloping her until it became almost overwhelming, a fragrant apology.

I even considered purchasing a signed album from that artist whose melodies had once danced on her lips, the very same songs she would hum absentmindedly while grooming her hair, lost in her own world.

Or, in a moment of boldness, I could offer her a key. A key to a car, a key to a house, a key to whatever sanctuary she envisioned from me.

Yet, never in my wildest dreams—those sleepless nights spent replaying every moment of us—did I foresee this. Not with her leg draped over my shoulder, her voice breaking into small, desperate sounds as I moved inside her. Not with her mouth doing the things it did earlier—pulling every rational thought from my mind until all that remained was the intoxicating ache of her name echoing in my consciousness.

Oh, how exquisite it felt.

The memory of her lips against me still blazed through my senses like an uncontrollable wildfire. The warmth, the glide, the soft suction of her mouth—each movement was deliberate, reverent, utterly devastating.

I had never felt so revered, and at that moment, I had never craved to worship her more deeply than I did now.

I thrust into her harder, succumbing to the overwhelming desire that coursed through me. Her back arched, her body a stunning, quivering contradiction of need and surrender. She reached for me—one hand resting over my heart, her fingers tracing the outline of my chest where her name now resided, etched into my skin.

Her gaze darted between the tattoo and my face, confusion swirling within those soft brown eyes, a tempest of emotions.

Her fingertips trembled as they grazed over the ink. “You—Roman, why?”

I slowed my rhythm, my breath hitching as I observed the way her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Do you like it?” I asked, my voice gravelly, laden with everything I left unsaid.

She blinked rapidly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you do that? You hated tattoos. You said they ruined the body.”

“I said they ruined me,” I corrected gently, needing her to grasp the depth of my meaning. “But this—this isn’t ruin, Sav. This is redemption.”

Her brows knitted together in confusion. I cupped her face, desperate for her to understand the weight of my choices.

“I couldn’t breathe. Not really. Every single day without you felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair. And then I thought—maybe if I bled for you, if I carved your name into my very being, I could finally feel alive again. As if I had earned my right to breathe once more. And I did.”

Her lips parted, trembling with emotion. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, she wrapped her arms around my neck, her breath hitching against my skin.

Her breath caught, but she complied without hesitation, rolling onto her stomach as if it were second nature. Her hair cascaded across the pillow, one leg slipping out just enough to reveal the delicate curve of her hip. I traced my hand down her spine, intentionally, committing to memory the shivers that ran beneath my palm.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, my voice nearly breaking under the weight of my desire.

I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her body quiver in response. My fingers gripped her hips, gently pulling her toward the edge of the bed, coaxing out tiny, shaky bursts of breath from her lips. I could feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat against my skin.

As I pressed against her, the warmth radiating from her body made my chest ache with longing. She squirmed slightly, trying to draw me closer, and a dark smile crept across my face.

“You looked so fucking perfect earlier,” I whispered against her skin. “On your knees. Taking me like…”

“I do own you,” she breathed out, her words trembling yet undeniably true.

“You owned me.”

I chuckled softly. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she replied, her voice a soft echo.

Leaning down, I kissed her shoulder, my stubble grazing her skin, igniting a fire within me. “Show me.”