“C’mon, Sav,” he coaxed, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“I am not sharing a bed with you if you’re going to be completely naked, Roman,” I insisted, my resolve hardening.
“You know I can’t stand sleeping in clothes,” he retorted, a playful pout forming on his lips.
“And you know I can’t stand someone grinding their warm, hard parts against me,” I shot back, deadpan.
He stood there, a smirk plastered on his face, as if he were waiting for me to relent.
I lifted my head, my brow furrowing. “Could you not stand there like that?”
“Like what?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Like you’re about to audition for a GQ photo shoot. We’re supposed to be fake-engaged, not starring in a Calvin Klein ad!”
“Hey, don’t blame me,” he said, climbing onto the other side of the bed with an exaggerated flourish. “This body is just an added bonus in the fiancé package.”
I rolled onto my back, letting out a heavy sigh. “Why is there only one bed? This is a six-bedroom house. You’d think my mom would’ve thought to separate us.”
Roman’s grin widened. “She probably thinks we’re madly in love.” He made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers. “Which means she expects we’re already accustomed to ‘casually rubbing parts together.’”
I nearly choked on a laugh, the absurdity of his words hitting me hard. “Oh my god. That phrase should be banned from existence.”
He leaned closer, propped up on one elbow, his expression mischievous. “You said it, not me.”
I shot him a look, my curiosity piqued. “Okay, but hypothetically speaking. On a scale of one to ten, how weird would it be if we did… casually rub parts together?”
Without missing a beat, Roman replied, “Define ‘rub.’”
My eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Roman.”
“I’m just saying, context matters,” he said with a smirk. “An accidental thigh graze? That’s a three. An intentional butt scoot? Solid six. Anything above waist level, and we’re hitting eights.”
I groaned, pulling the covers up to my chin, feeling a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You are the absolute worst.”
With a flick of his wrist, he turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness, save for the soft glow of moonlight that illuminated his smug profile. “You love me,” he stated, his voice teasing.
“Fake love,” I corrected, trying to keep my tone light.
“Still counts,” he insisted with a chuckle.
A brief silence settled over us, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air.
Finally, I broke the quiet, my voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe he compared your achievements to mine at the table.”
Roman didn’t respond immediately; when he did, his tone shifted, becoming more serious. “He’s an idiot for doing that. You’re brilliant, Sav. He’s just too old-fashioned to see it.”
I stared up at the ceiling, feeling my throat tighten. “You didn’t have to say that about me being the most talented.”
“I didn’t say it for her,” he replied softly.
“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling a warmth spread through me.
A moment passed, the bed creaking softly as we both shifted, trying our best not to touch, yet inevitably brushing against each other’s arms and legs beneath the sheets.
“This is weird,” I sighed, the tension between us palpable.
“Yeah,” Roman admitted, his voice low. “But not bad weird. We’ve done this a lot of times.”
More silence enveloped us, thick and heavy.
“Roman?” I finally ventured, breaking the stillness.
“Hmmm?”
“Try anything, and I swear I’ll knee you right in your very expensive parts.”
He chuckled softly under his breath. “Understood, Miss Hart.”
I reached over and playfully smacked his chest. “That’s Mrs. Blackwood to you.”
There was a brief pause, a moment of tension where I could feel my heart racing.
“Savannah?” he said, his tone suddenly serious.
“What?”
“…You’re kind of rubbing my thigh.”
I froze, my eyes widening. “No, you’re the one rubbing my thigh!”
“Oh no, this is clearly your fault,” he retorted, a grin creeping onto his face.
Just then, a voice called out from the hallway, slicing through the charged atmosphere.
“Savannah? Are you two still awake?”
We both turned toward the door, our faces inches apart in the dark, caught in an embarrassing moment.
I shouted, “Yep! Just… saying our bedtime prayers! Separately!”
Roman stifled a laugh, biting his lip to contain his amusement. “Ten out of ten awkward.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.