From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 52

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 52**

“Looks like you’re plotting to wipe out my entire bloodline, Savannah!” His voice was a low growl, laced with disbelief and anger.

“If that’s what it takes to get my revenge,” I shot back, my voice steady, “then I hope they fall off.”

“Jesus, Savannah…” His roar of pain echoed through the room, and I could see him clutching his most prized possessions as if they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

For a fleeting moment, a flicker of concern washed over me, urging me to rush to his side, to comfort him in his agony. But just as quickly, I halted, my feet rooted to the floor.

The sound he emitted—a mix of a snarl and a growl—sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me. But then clarity struck like a lightning bolt; he had brought this upon himself.

He hadn’t told the truth.

A twisted sense of satisfaction surged within me as I absorbed the sight of his discomfort. The way his features contorted in agony, the way his breath hitched, the way he cursed and flushed crimson—it was almost poetic.

I stood above him, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my heart racing like a wild animal.

His face was a canvas of pain, the redness creeping across his cheeks like a wildfire. He slammed his palm against the floor, a wounded creature fighting against its own suffering, snarling and hissing as if the world had turned against him.

“I hope that hurts,” I taunted, a smirk creeping onto my lips.

“Fucking hell, Savannah!” he groaned, the desperation in his voice palpable. “Are you trying to make me dickless?!”

“Yes, Roman,” I replied, my tone sharp and unyielding. “So consider your favorite body part officially at risk.”

He barked out a laugh, even while hunched over in pain. It was a strange, almost deranged sound that made me blink in surprise.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, my irritation bubbling to the surface. “Do you want me to go again?”

“I haven’t felt pain like that in a long time,” he murmured, almost to himself, as if the realization unsettled him. “It’s… refreshing.”

I crossed my arms defiantly, a smirk still playing on my lips. “Well, lucky for you, I’m more than willing to be a generous refresher. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Then he lifted his gaze to meet mine, and the air between us shifted palpably. His lips parted slightly, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

“You’re going to pay for that, Sav,” he said, his voice now gravelly and filled with a promise that sent shivers down my spine. “You’re going to beg while I make you pay. For the slap. For the kick.”

He groaned again, still hunched over, but then slowly straightened, like a beast rising from the ashes. His eyes were now ablaze with something primal and intense.

In an instant, he surged from the floor as if the pain had vanished, replaced by a darker energy. Before I could process what was happening, he lunged at me, pinning me against the bed, my face pressed into the mattress, my wrists captured behind my back by his relentless grip.

“Roman!” I struggled against him, but my body was already betraying me. The heat in my core flared, fueled by the way he held me—tight, commanding, utterly overwhelming.

His breath was hot against my ear, a heady mix of passion and intensity. I could smell him—sweat, heat, and that unmistakable scent that was purely Roman. My body betrayed me once more, responding to him in ways I couldn’t control.

His hand came down on my backside—firm, sharp. A jolt of surprise and sensation shot through me. I gasped, my body reacting against my will.

“Roman!” I exclaimed, still struggling, but even I could hear the thread of desire woven through my voice.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice a blend of velvet and fire. “You’re the one who started this.”

“Let me go!” I protested, my voice a mix of indignation and something else entirely.

He leaned in closer, his mouth brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Congrats, bestie,” he whispered, his tone dripping with mischief. “You’ve successfully turned me on.”