Chapter 13
SAVANNAH
Iwake up alone in my dorm room, and for a moment, I think maybe I dreamed it all.
Then I move, and my body reminds me. There’s soreness between my thighs, and faint bruises on my hips where Romeo's fingers gripped me. My breasts feel tender, my entire body marked with the memories of how he touched me, all the ways he’s begun to undo me entirely.
The memory crashes over me: his body pressing mine into the mattress, his voice rough in my ear telling me I'm his, the feeling of him coming inside me again, marking me, claiming me.
What have I done?
I sit up slowly, pulling the sheet around myself as if it can somehow protect me from what’s happening.
My phone shows it's almost noon—I've slept through my morning class.
There are seventeen missed calls. Twelve from Thad.
Five from Romeo. And one text from Romeo, sent an hour ago: Thinking about you.
It’s just three words, but they make my stomach flip. Not with fear or dread, but with something worse—anticipation. Desire.
I should be horrified, disgusted with myself. Instead, I can’t stop remembering the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he'd burn everything down just to keep me.
Thad has never looked at me like that. Thad looks at me like I'm a possession he's acquired. A trophy. Something to be displayed and controlled.
Romeo looks at me like he needs me to breathe.
It's terrifying, and dangerous, and I know it’s anything but healthy. But it’s also intoxicating beyond belief. I feel like I’m drunk on him, making decisions that I know will bring us both down eventually, but that I can’t keep myself from acting on anyway.
I force myself out of bed and into the shower, turning the water as hot as I can stand it, as if I can wash away the guilt, the confusion, the memory of Romeo's hands on my skin.
But I can't. The guilt clings to me like a second skin.
I'm engaged. I'm supposed to marry Thad in an indeterminate amount of time—as early as Christmas if he gets his way, in less than two years if I get mine, or something in between. I'm supposed to be planning a wedding, not sleeping with another man. Not letting that man come inside me. Not risking—
My hand moves to my stomach, flat and unchanged, but the possibility is there. And there's a small, shameful part of me that feels something else. Something I can't name. Something that makes me think about Romeo's face when he said he wanted me to be his, completely and irrevocably.
No. Stop. This is insane.
I get dressed quickly in jeans and a sweater, trying to look normal even though I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams. I need to think. I need to figure out what to do.
I need to stay away from Romeo.
My phone buzzes. Another text from Thad: Where are you? Why aren't you answering? We need to talk about last night.
Last night. The gala. His hand on my throat. The way he grabbed me… hurt me.
And then Romeo, following me outside. Romeo, making me feel things I've never felt before. Romeo, inside me, claiming me, telling me I'm his.
I can't think about this. I can't process this. It's too much.
I text Thad back: I'm sick. Food poisoning. I'll call you later.
It's a lie. Everything is a lie now.
—
I managed to avoid Romeo for two days.
I leave class before he can catch up to me. I don't go to the library. I stay in my room, trying to focus on my research, trying to pretend that everything is normal.
But it's not normal. Nothing is normal.
My body remembers him. Every time I move, every time I shift in my chair, I'm reminded of what we did, of how he felt inside me, the way he looked at me. And I hate myself for wanting more.
On Tuesday evening, there's a knock on the front door of our dorm. I assume it's Vivian, my roommate, who's been giving me concerned looks all day before she finally headed out for her study group that was meeting tonight. I’ve been dodging her questions, claiming not to feel well, like I have been with everyone else, and it’s not entirely a lie. The anxiety and guilt feel like they’re going to make me sick.
I get up and answer the door, already making up excuses in my head.
It's not Vivian.
"Hi," Romeo says, and just the sound of his voice makes my knees weak.
He's wearing dark jeans and a black sweater, his hair slightly disheveled like he's been running his hands through it. He looks tired and worried, and he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
"You can't be here," I whisper, but I don't close the door.
His dark eyes search mine, and I feel as if they’re cutting straight through to my core. "You've been avoiding me."
"I've been sick."
"You're lying." He takes a step closer, and I catch a whiff of his expensive cologne and the warmer scent of his skin, something I’m much too familiar with now. "Savannah, we need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about. What happened was—it was a mistake.
It can't happen again." I say it as firmly as I can, but there’s a warble to my voice that gives me away.
What I want is to invite him into my room and into my bed again.
I want him to have me up against the door, the wall, to knock every paper off my desk, and take me there.
I want all the deviant fantasies I can come up with, and it takes everything in me to fight it.
I’m a good girl. A dutiful daughter. I’ve never felt like this for anyone, and feeling it now is so disorienting that it’s hard to fight back.
"A mistake." His voice is flat. "Is that what you really think?"
I take a deep breath and tip my chin up. "Yes. I'm engaged, Romeo. I'm supposed to marry Thad. What we did was—"
His gaze hardens. "What we did was inevitable. You know it. I know it. Stop pretending otherwise."
"I'm not pretending. I'm trying to do the right thing…”
"The right thing?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "The right thing is marrying a man who puts his hands on you? Who controls you? Who doesn't respect you?"
The words hang in the air between us. I want to deny it, but I can't. Because he's right. Thad did hurt me. Thad does control me. But Romeo—Romeo is dangerous in a different way.
"You need to leave," I say, but my voice is shaking.
"Let me in. Please. Just to talk. That's all."
I should say no. I should close the door in his face. I should protect myself from whatever this is between us.
Instead, I step aside.
He comes in, closing the door behind him, and suddenly the small dorm feels even smaller. His presence eclipses everything else, sucking the breath out of my lungs.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he says quietly. "I can’t bear being away from you. I need you, Savannah.”
My heart thuds in my chest. Yes. Yes, I need you too. "Romeo—"
"I know this is complicated. I know you're engaged. I know I should stay away from you. But Savannah—" He takes a step closer. "I can't. I physically cannot stay away from you."
My eyes burn. Everything in me is burning. But I can’t… "You have to. We both have to. This is—it's wrong. It's toxic. It's—"
"It's real." His voice is fierce. "Whatever this is between us, it's real. And you feel it too. I know you do."
"That doesn't make it right,” I stammer.
“Unfortunately…” He moves closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. I have to tilt my head back to look at him. “I don’t care about what’s right, Savannah. I only care about this. About you, and me, and what we’re supposed to be together.”
I can feel myself melting. Giving in. I’m helpless in the wake of something I’ve never experienced before and know I never will again.
"This is the last time," I whisper. "After this, we're done. We have to be done."
"Okay." But I can see in his eyes that he doesn't believe it any more than I do.
He kisses me, and I'm lost.
It’s slower this time, despite the desperate need that I can feel throbbing between us both.
He comes closer, then closer still, until I’m backed into my small bedroom.
He locks the door behind him and comes closer to me, his hands sliding over my body as he undresses me more slowly than he did before.
His hands map my body, taking off each piece of clothing as I stand there next to my desk, trembling.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my collarbone as he strips my sweater over my head. "So fucking beautiful."
Thad has never called me beautiful like this. Like he means it. Like the word is being torn from somewhere deep inside him.
"Romeo—"
"I know. Last time. I heard you." His mouth moves lower, and I arch into him. "But let me have this. Let me have you."
It's not one more time. We both know it's not. But I let myself believe it, because it’s the only way I can let us keep going, if I tell myself we’ll never do it again.
He drops to his knees in front of me and unbuttons my jeans, sliding them and my panties down over my hips. I gasp as he leans forward, kissing just below my navel, then lower and lower still, until his thumbs spread me open and he presses a kiss against my clit.
When his tongue slides over me, I let out a breathless moan, nearly stumbling from the pleasure.
Romeo pulls back, standing just long enough to pick me up and do exactly the thing I imagined, sweeping the papers and notebooks off my desk and sitting me on the edge of it before he drops to his knees again.
This time, when he spreads my legs open and leans in, he devours me. His tongue swirls over my clit, licking, fluttering, making me grip the edge of the desk and cry out. My head falls back, hair sweeping against my spine as I forget to be modest and afraid of this, my legs spreading wide for him.
His tongue feels like nothing I could have ever imagined. He brings me to the edge and over it, groaning as my back arches and I orgasm on his tongue, clenching my teeth to keep from screaming through my pleasure.