Chapter 13

Roman's POV

She was still asleep.

Her skin was warm against mine, her breathing slow and steady, her face relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks. The morning light slipped in through the curtains and painted her in gold.

I watched her for a long time.

I wasn’t supposed to stay. I had told myself I’d leave after the shower, that I’d keep some distance, give her space. But the moment I picked her up and laid her on the bed, something inside me shattered.

I couldn’t walk away from her again.

Not after last night.

Not after hearing her say stay.

I didn’t deserve her. Not after the things I’d done. Not after the lies I’d let pile between us. But still, when she looked at me like that—like I was the only thing keeping her world from falling apart—I stayed.

And now I was here. Staring at her. Wanting to touch her again. Wanting to give her everything I swore I never would.

I reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

She stirred.

Her eyes blinked open slowly, confused at first, like she wasn’t sure if this was real.

Then her gaze found mine.

I didn’t look away.

She sat up, the blanket falling slightly, revealing the curve of her shoulder. "You stayed."

"I meant it."

She searched my face. Like she wanted to believe me but wasn’t sure she could.

I sat up too, pushing the hair off my forehead. "I know I messed up."

Her lips parted but no words came out.

"But last night wasn’t a mistake for me, Ariana. It never was. I just... I didn’t know how to handle it. You. This."

She pulled the blanket tighter around her. "So what is this now? What do you want from me?"

My throat was tight. "Everything."

Her eyes widened.

"I want all of it," I said. "The late-night talks. The fights. The making up. The mornings like this. I want you."

She didn’t speak.

So I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then lower, tasting the softness of her skin again.

Her hands clutched the sheets like she was afraid to fall.

"You don’t have to decide now," I whispered. "Just don’t shut me out. Please."

She nodded slowly.

I exhaled and pulled her into me, holding her like I was terrified she might vanish.

And maybe I was.

Because for the first time in a long time, something felt right.

And I wasn’t going to let it go.

Ariana’s POV

It was his. Black, oversized, still smelling like his cologne—spice and smoke and the kind of danger girls like me should run from. I told myself it was harmless, just a stupid hoodie I grabbed after my shower because I was cold. But when I caught my reflection in the mirror—bare legs, damp hair, lips still swollen from his kiss the night before—my heart stuttered.

And then I heard the door creak.

I turned, eyes wide, breath caught halfway in my throat.

Roman.

He stood in the doorway, silent, his eyes locked on me like he’d been punched in the chest. That hoodie—the one he always wore when he studied late or smoked on the balcony—hung off my frame like a secret I shouldn’t have touched.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then I saw it.

That look.

Like he wanted to eat me alive.

He stepped in, shutting the door behind him. My pulse pounded. The room felt small. Too hot. Too quiet.

“I— I didn’t mean to—” I started.

He cut me off with just a look.

“You know what that hoodie does to me?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

I swallowed hard. “I just grabbed it. I was cold.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

My back hit the wall, breath shaky. “Roman—”

His fingers found my chin, tilted my face up. His mouth hovered over mine, not touching, just letting me feel the heat of it. “I said no kissing,” he whispered. “No touching. No fucking falling in love.”

I stared into his eyes. “So stop me.”

He didn’t.

He slammed his mouth onto mine like a man losing a war, hands gripping my waist, dragging me into him like he couldn’t stand the space between us for another second.

I gasped into his mouth, fingers twisting in his t-shirt, but that only made him groan—deep and low like I’d touched something forbidden inside him.

He didn’t pull the hoodie off me. He shoved it up, bunching the soft fabric around my ribs as his hand slid between my legs, fingers finding the thin cotton of my panties. I whimpered when he touched me—soft at first, almost teasing. Then deeper. Harder.

“I shouldn’t want this,” he growled against my neck, lips brushing my skin, hot and hungry. “But you walked into my life and ruined everything.”

“Roman—” I breathed, hips bucking toward his hand.

He slipped one finger inside me, then two.

My head fell back, eyes fluttering closed. “Oh my god—”

His mouth found my throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “You're mine,” he whispered. “No one gets to touch you. No one gets to see you like this.”

I was shaking—legs weak, hands clawing at his shoulders like I needed something to anchor me or I’d float away.

He was everywhere—fingers inside me, lips on my skin, breath in my ear.

He didn’t stop until I came undone, gasping his name like it was the only word I remembered.

And when I finally looked up, my whole body wrecked and trembling against the wall, he was just... watching me. Like he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

His voice was rough. “Put my hoodie on again, and I swear I’ll fuck you so hard the whole damn house hears.”

I wanted to say something back. Something clever. But all I could do was nod.

Because I wanted that.

I wanted him.

Every broken, obsessive, dangerous part of him.

Even if it ruined me.