Savannah

"We had sex," I said flatly, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. I tried to shove the memory of the back seat into a locked corner of my mind, but it was impossible with Roman this close.

Roman’s smirk was slow and deliberate, as if he could see every flickering thought in my head. "Good girl."

It should have felt uncomfortable—being bound, positioned this close, this intimate. But with Roman, it never did. My body felt like it belonged exactly where he had placed it.

"Next clue?" I asked, trying to ignore the biting pressure of the leather around my wrists.

"Game over, Sav." His voice was smug, final.

My brows knit in confusion. "What? What do you mean 'game over'?"

He held my gaze, his hands anchoring me to the bed with a possessive strength. "I've dropped all the clues. You're a smart girl—think."

That was it? Three clues? My brain scrambled to line them up, but the pieces wouldn't fit. I couldn't focus, not when he dipped his head, his voice becoming a low rumble against my skin.

"Think harder," he murmured, his mouth brushing my inner thigh. My breath caught, my pulse leaping in response to the ghost of his lips.

"Can I really do that... in this position?" I gasped.

His grin was wicked as he moved closer, his touch a slow, tormenting promise. "It's like that game you were obsessed with. Four pictures, one word. Focus, Sav."

When he shifted my weight, bringing me even closer to him, I nearly melted into the mattress. "Roman... I don't think this is the right time—"

"Shhh. I'm helping you think."

The rest of my protest dissolved into a sharp intake of breath as his mouth claimed me. It was a devastating, masterful stroke of sensation that had my back arching off the bed.

"Roman..." My head tipped back, my lips parting on a silent moan. His hands slid up, cupping me possessively, anchoring my hips as he worked with a maddening, calculated patience.

"Think deep," he whispered against my skin, his voice like dark silk.

Was he kidding? How was I supposed to use my brain when every nerve ending was on fire? He moved with a wicked rhythm, his touch hitting every spark of sensation until I was seeing stars. I tugged at the belt, the leather biting into my wrists, but he pressed a palm to my stomach, commanding me to stay still.

"There it is," he murmured, the vibration of his voice making me tremble. "The focus I wanted."

"Let me touch you... please," I panted, my pride long gone.

"Not yet," he teased, his mouth relentless.

He moved fast then, dragging me to the edge of the bed in one rough, dominant pull. I was completely open to him now, breathless and shaking.

"Say my name," he ordered.

"Roman," I gasped, the sound almost a sob.

He alternated between slow, agonizingly languid touches and quick, devastating movements that had me surging against him. My muscles ached with the need to pull him closer, to break free and bury my hands in his hair.

"Almost there, aren't you?" he hummed against me.

"Yes," I choked out. "Please, don't stop."

"Then think," he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. "The clues, Sav. Put them together. Kingston. Dean. Last night."

I wanted to scream that I couldn't, that my brain was offline, but as the tension wound tighter and tighter inside me, a spark finally caught in the dark.

I saw Dean’s smug smirk from earlier. I saw the way he’d been holding his phone at the club. I remembered Roman’s sudden, uncharacteristic silence in front of my parents. The pieces began to shift, aligning into a picture I hadn't wanted to see.

The blackmail wasn't about Roman.

It was about me.

My ex. The club. A recording.

The truth slammed into me at the exact second the world exploded into white light. My back arched, my cry raw and breathless as the orgasm took hold of me, shaking my entire frame. Roman didn't ease up; he held me through it, grounding me until the last of the tremors subsided and I was left gasping against the sheets.

When I finally sagged, boneless and panting, he lifted his head. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and intensely focused on me.

As I came down from the high, the sheer weight of the realization hit me like a physical blow. I slapped a hand over my mouth, my chest heaving.

"You know now," he said simply, his voice devoid of its earlier playfulness.

"Oh my God," I whispered, the horror of it settling in my bones. "Dean has a video. He’s using me to break you."