Chapter 12
ROMEO
The moment I feel her clench around me, the moment I hear her gasp my name as she comes, something inside me shatters.
Every carefully constructed wall, every lesson my father drilled into me about control and discipline and never letting emotion dictate action—it all crumbles to dust.
I'm buried inside her, feeling her pulse around me, and the only thought in my head is: mine.
She's mine. She has to be mine. I'll make her mine.
I didn’t mean to. I swear I fucking didn’t. But it’s never felt like this before. Being inside of her is like touching heaven, it’s making me feel things I didn’t know were possible, and I couldn’t fucking stop.
I needed to come inside of her. I needed it like I need to fucking breathe.
Sex has always just been about release for me. I’ve never felt emotion during it. But this…
It feels like my fucking soul is ripped through my cock when I come inside of her.
I come with a force that feels like it's tearing me apart, spilling inside her, marking her, claiming her. And with each pulse, each wave of release, all I can think is that I hope she gets pregnant, that she’ll be bound to me so completely that leaving becomes impossible.
It's insane. Some part of me that is still rational knows that. But in this moment, with her body wrapped around mine, with her scent filling my lungs and her taste still on my tongue—I don't care.
I want her to be mine. I want it to be too late for her to change her mind.
When I finally come back to myself, I'm breathing hard, my forehead pressed against hers, my body still trembling with aftershocks.
What have I done? What have I done?
“Oh God, what did we—” Her voice cracks, and I feel cold ripple down my spine. I’ve fucked up. I knew I would fuck up.
I manage to keep my own voice steady. “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, kissing her temple. I’m still buried inside of her, and I don’t want to slide out. I want to fuck her again. I want to keep her on my cock forever.
I want to keep feeling this terrifying, consuming feeling that I’ve only ever felt with her.
“You came inside of me.” Her voice trembles.
"I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't—I tried to stop but—" I couldn’t stop. God himself couldn’t have pulled me out of her. But I know I should have.
“I might be—” She’s breathing harder now, sounding panicky, and I regretfully let myself slip out of her, setting her down gently. Her knees are weak, and she holds onto my arm as I tuck myself away, her skirt falling back around her feet. “I could get pregnant.”
She whispers it, as if the word itself is too dangerous to fully say aloud. I should be panicked at the thought, but instead, some dark, possessive part of me wants it—wants her pregnant with my child, wants her bound to me in a way that can never be undone.
"We'll deal with it." I try to sound calm even as my mind races. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together."
"Together? Romeo, I'm engaged. I'm supposed to marry Thad. If I'm pregnant—"
Rage blurs my vision. "You're not marrying him. Not after tonight. Not after what he did to you."
She pulls away from me, nearly tripping in the grass in her heels. "You don't understand. My father—the families—the expectations—"
"Fuck the expectations. Fuck what everyone else wants. What do you want, Savannah?" I stare at her. I just took her virginity, and she’s trying to say she’s still going to marry that fucker.
The thought makes my head spin, makes me want to go in there and kill him so there’s no fucking chance of it.
She looks at me, and I can see the fear in her eyes. The uncertainty. The realization of what we've done.
“I wanted this,” she whispers. “But it doesn’t change anything. I have to—I can’t get out of this, Romeo. No one can get me out of it.”
In the distance, we both hear voices. I see her head turn back toward the building where the gala is being held, as doors open and lights spill out. She backs up, away from me, and I start to follow her.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I have to go. Romeo—”
For a moment, I think she’s going to say something else. But she just turns, grabbing her skirt up in one hand, and flees.
—
I know better than to follow her back to the gala, however much I want to. Instead, I head back to my own car, my head spinning and my body still throbbing with the memory of how it felt to be inside of her.
It feels almost impossible to leave her behind. To know she’s going to leave that gala with him. Her fucking virgin blood is still on my cock, but another man is going to drive her home. It’s making me insane.
I can’t sleep. I should shower, but I don’t want to wash her scent off my skin. I feel like a fucking madman, and by nine o’clock the next morning, I text Vince and tell him I need him to go and watch her building, tell me if he sees anyone.
I get a text an hour later. I want it to be Savannah, answering any of the ten fucking messages I’ve sent her since last night, but it’s Vince.
Vince: No one so far. She’s in her dorm. Sitting by the window.
I text back rapidly: No one else in there with her?
Vince: Not that I can see.
I pace my apartment, trying to focus on work, on projects for school, anything except how badly I want to go to Savannah’s dorm right now and demand she talk to me. I feel like I’m fucking suffocating. A shower doesn’t help. Jerking off thinking of how she felt in my arms last night doesn’t help.
I need her. I fucking need her right now.
At 2 p.m., Vince texts again: She just left. Heading toward the campus pharmacy. And my blood runs cold.
There’s only one reason I can think of that she’d go to the pharmacy after what happened last night.
She's going to make sure last night has no consequences. She's going to erase the one thing that could bind her to me permanently.
Romeo: Follow her. Tell me what she buys.
Vince: Boss, I don't think—
Romeo: Tell me what she buys.
Twenty minutes later, he texts me: A Cherry Coke. And Plan B.
I stare at the message, feeling something dark and desperate rising in my chest, that foreign panic clouding my thoughts and my better judgment.
No. No, she can't. She can't take it. She can't erase what we did. She can't—
Before I can fully realize what I’m doing, I grab my keys and head for the door, my phone still in one hand.
Romeo: Where is she now?
Vince: Back at her dorm. Went straight there after the pharmacy.
Romeo: Is she alone?
Vince: Yeah. Roommate left about an hour ago.
I know what I'm about to do is wrong. I know it's a violation of her trust, her privacy, her autonomy.
But I can't stop myself.
The thought of her taking that pill, of eliminating the possibility of her carrying my child, of removing the one thing that could force her out of Thad’s arms, that could make our families accept what we feel for each other—it's unbearable.
I need her. I need her in a way I've never needed anything in my entire life.
And I'll do whatever it takes to keep her.
Getting into her dorm building is easy. Students are coming in and out when I walk up, and no one looks twice at me. I take the stairs to her floor, my heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with the exertion.
This is insane. This is wrong. This is—
Mine.
The word echoes in my head as I reach her door. I knock softly, but there's no answer. I try the handle.
It’s locked.
Fortunately, that’s not much of an obstacle for me. I’ve known how to pick a lock since I was tall enough to reach one. It takes less than thirty seconds, and I slip inside, closing the door quietly behind me.
I walk quickly through the main room of the dorm and into hers. It’s small and neat, filled with books and papers and the scent of her soap and perfume. The bed is unmade, and I can see her dress from last night draped over a chair. And there, on her desk, is the small paper bag from the pharmacy.
I cross the room, my hands shaking, and look inside.
Plan B. One dose. Instructions are printed on the box.
Take as soon as possible after unprotected sex. Most effective within 72 hours.
I stare at it, feeling something wild and desperate clawing at my chest.
If she takes this, it's over. The possibility is gone. We might never end up the way we did last night again. I might never have the chance to shift things in a direction that could erase so many of the obstacles to us being together.
And she'll choose to leave me. I know she will. She'll go back to Whitmore, back to her father's expectations, back to the life she's supposed to want.
I can't let that happen.
My hands are moving before my brain fully processes the decision. Taking the box out of the bag. Opening it. Removing the pill.
I should stop. I should put it back. I should leave and let her make her own choice.
But I can't.
I pocket the pill and put the empty box back in the bag, arranging it to look undisturbed.
She’ll think it’s the pharmacy’s mistake. And it’s Saturday—by the time she can get another, it’ll be too late.
What are you doing? This is insane. This is—
The door opens.
I spin around, and Savannah is standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.
"Romeo? What are you—how did you—"
I should have a lie ready. I should have an excuse prepared. But I don't. I can only stare at her, my heart pounding, the stolen pill burning in my pocket, evidence of my crime.
"I needed to see you.” It’s true, even if it's not the whole truth. "I couldn't stay away."
She closes the door behind her, and I can see the confusion in her eyes. The wariness. "How did you get in here?"
"The door was unlocked." The lie comes easily, automatically. "I knocked, but you didn't answer. I was worried, so I—"
Her forehead wrinkles. "You just walked into my room?"
"I was worried," I repeat. "After last night, after everything—I needed to make sure you were okay."