Roman’s other hand slid over my body, splaying across my stomach before moving higher—possessive, greedy, and utterly sure of itself. His palm cupped me, his thumb circling with a deliberate rhythm until my breath hitched, caught in the back of my throat.

I shoved weakly at his chest, a token resistance that we both knew was a lie. "Please... Roman. Please..."

"I will," he cut in, his grip tightening just enough to make my knees turn to water. "And I won’t stop until you can’t even stand without me holding you up."

He kissed me again, slower this time, deep and deliberate, as if he were savoring every second of the wait he’d endured. He pressed me deeper against the stone wall, his hands impatiently guiding my dress upward until the cool night air met my skin. I was bare for him now, exposed in the shadows.

Without breaking the kiss, his hand slid down, finding the heat he had created. I gasped into his mouth, the sensation overwhelming.

"This dress was in my way," he muttered darkly against my lips. "Now nothing is."

His knuckles brushed against me, and the sound he made—a low, dangerous rumble of satisfaction—vibrated through my entire being. He could feel how ready I was, how much I had been vibrating on his frequency all night.

"You've been thinking about this too," he rasped. "I can feel it in every pulse."

By this time, I was a whimpering, moaning mess in his hands, my pride long gone. There was only one word my mouth was conditioned to speak. "Please..."

He grinned darkly, his eyes flashing with a predatory light. "If you insist, love."

Before I could process the shift, he pulled me flush against him, his body heat burning through the layers of our clothes. He steadied me with firm, unyielding hands, hooking my legs around his waist until I was anchored entirely to him.

He pressed the evidence of his own desire against me, rolling his hips in a slow, torturous grind. "You feel that?" he murmured. "That’s what you’ve been doing to me since the very first time. And I’m going to bury this so deep, you’ll forget how to breathe without me."

His words hit deeper than any physical touch. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me steady as he freed himself from the restraint of his clothes with a deliberate slowness that sent my pulse into a frantic race.

He didn’t tease. He didn’t ease in.

He drove into me with a hungry groan—one rough, claiming thrust that slammed my back against the wall and ripped a shattered gasp from my lungs. Stars exploded behind my eyes as he filled the void I hadn't realized was so vast. My head fell back, a loud cry escaping my lips as his hips moved with ruthless, overwhelming power.

"I love your body, but it’s more than that," he grunted, his voice raw. "It’s the way you fight yourself and give in anyway. I’ll keep coming back, because I can’t breathe without the way you feel around me."

I bit my lip until the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Roman!" I moaned, the name a prayer and a plea, uncaring if anyone in the distance could hear.

"Good girl," he whispered in my ear, picking up the pace until the world became a blur of friction and fire.

His movements were relentless, punishing in their intensity. Each thrust lifted me higher against the wall, forcing me to cling to his neck as if he were the only solid thing left in a dissolving universe. My legs locked tight around him, pressing us together until there wasn't a hair's breadth of space left.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see you," he growled. "I’m not done with you, Savannah. Not even close."

His hand slid from my thigh to my throat—not to squeeze, but as a searing reminder of his presence, his claim. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice sharp enough to slice through the haze of pleasure. "I want you to see who is inside you. I want you to see who you belong to."

I met his eyes, and the raw, unfiltered heat there made my heart hammer against my ribs. He kissed me again—a messy, hungry, bruising collision that never slowed the frantic rhythm of his hips.

"Don't stop," I pleaded, lost in the storm.

"I’m not stopping," he promised. "Not until your body forgets every man before me. Not until you remember I’m the only one who can undo you like this."

The world shrank to nothing but the slick press of skin, the bruising grip of his hands, and the frantic pounding of two hearts out of sync with the rest of the world. His rhythm was unforgiving—hard, fast, and relentless.

I was riding the wild edge of a precipice, my body burning with a need that only he could satisfy. My fingers gripped the muscles of his back, desperate to hold on as the first waves of ecstasy began to crash over me.

"Roman," I gasped, my voice breaking. "Please—"

His lips found mine in a fierce, bruising kiss, swallowing my cries as he drove us both over the edge. When the world finally shattered around us, his hand at my throat held me steady through the tremors. He let out a guttural groan, my name sounding like a shattered vow on his lips as he found his own release, deep and absolute.

Even as the tremors subsided and my lungs burned for air, he didn't let go. He stayed buried deep, breathing me in as if he were trying to pull my very soul into his lungs.

We clung together in the quiet aftermath, chests heaving, bodies still humming from the intensity of the collision. The silence of the night felt heavy, sacred, and terrifying.

When we finally pulled apart, Roman brushed my hair away from my face, cupping my cheek with a gentleness that was a sharp, startling contrast to the fire from moments before.

"I told you," he murmured, his mouth lingering at my temple. "I’m not done with you, Sav. I never will be."