บททั้งหมดของ From Best Friend To Fiancé : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Chapter 2: Let's Ruin A Wedding. I didn’t knock on the door, I pounded.Roman’s door swung open a few seconds later, revealing him in nothing but a pair of blindingly white Calvin Klein boxer briefs and sleep-tousled hair.I wasn't fazed. Roman usually sleeps naked. “Nice boxers. Very... spiritual monk energy you have going on,” I said, breezing inside.Roman rubbed his eyes, “It’s one in the morning. Did you set something on fire again?”I kicked the door shut behind me, my heel finally giving up and snapping clean off. “Just my life.”Roman sighed and knelt, without a word, helping me out of my shoes as usual. “Roman, I did something horrible.” Roman's face morphs into one of seriousness. He briskly walks to the widows, looks both ways then snaps them shut and proceeds to do that to all the windows. “How bad is it? Do I need to hide a body or bail you out of jail? Be honest.” He said. “My sister’s getting married,” I said, breathless. “I'm lost.” “To Dean Archer.”Roman frow

Chapter 4: Trip To New Hope Two Weeks Later…“You’re wearing my hoodie.” Roman stated. “When did you steal that one?” “I didn't steal, I borrowed. Those are two different things.” I muttered, buckling in, “if I die on this trip, tell everyone I looked cute and smelled amazing.”“Will do. You sure you got everything?” He asked as he settled into the driver seat. “Anxiety? Check. Emergency snacks? Check. A dress that my sister says is ‘too good for me’? Triple check.” I counted off my fingers. “That was a low blow, by the way. I can't believe she said all that over a dress. You okay?”“I'll survive. She's said much worse to me.” “And the most important? Did you get it?” Roman started his sleek, black Aston Martin. His sunglasses perched perfectly atop his hair. I grinned wickedly. “You bet.” Roman laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “Remind me never to mess with you, Sav.” “Or buy you a wedding gift.” I added. “No need to worry about that. I'm never getting married. Ever.

“For Christ's sake, there's a child in here!” Mom shrieked, covering Emily's eyes and ears. “Put that thing away!” “Oh boy.” Alyssa cackled. “Why is it sticky, Sav?” “It’s cherry-flavored!” I said brightly, lifting the bottle like a trophy. “You’re welcome, Chlo.”Her nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you for real?” “Don't you like it, Chlo?” I pouted, “I thought it was thoughtful.” Chloe’s face was so red that she looked like she'd breathe fire anytime soon.“You thought this was thoughtful?” she hissed, holding up the Bible, the lube, and the card like they were Exhibit A in my trial. “‘A Bible and a fucking flavored lube wrapped together with a note that says ‘For marriage and morals. Balance is key.’ Savannah, are you high?!” “Language, Chloe! There's a child present.” Mom scolded her. Chloe dropped the box like it was on fire. “I don't fucking care, mom! She started it!” “Don't use those words with me, young lady!” Mum scolded her. Little Emily was

Lizzie stood frozen in the doorway, holding a stack of fresh towels and a small glass bowl.Roman blinked. “Are those—”“Goldfish.” I completed. “I—I just came to drop off these fresh towels and...uh...” She lifted the bag. “Alyssa said this fishes need emotional support, and she thinks Roman has a ‘gentle aura.’” Her voice cracked on the last word as she blinked at the scene—me straddling Roman like a throne, hoodie rucked up, Roman shirtless and smug beneath me. “I’ll just…leave it on the dresser. You guys…carry on. Or not. Or do. Who am I to judge? Goldie says hi.” She rambled.There was a pause.“Lizzie?” I arched a brow as a smirk formed on my lips. “Oh. Oh no. I didn’t see anything. Carry on. Act like I wasn’t here,” Lizzie said, waving her hands dramatically as she backed up.“Lizzie, we—” I began, scrambling off Roman.“Nope. Nope. Doesn’t matter. I can’t even see. I don’t have my glasses on.”She squinted comically into the room, then did a fake fumble along the doorframe

I stirred, feeling a heavy warmth pressed against me. My leg was tangled over Roman’s thigh, my hand—oh God—resting right on his very naked hip. His arm was thrown lazily over my waist, fingers curled like they owned me. My eyes fluttered open and met his—already watching me with sleepy amusement.“Morning, Mrs Blackwood,” he drawled, voice raspier than ever. I blinked at him, confused, until I realized my thigh was dangerously close to the thing that could ruin our friendship forever.“Roman,” I said slowly, “on a scale of one to ten, how weird is it if we’re just casually rubbing parts right now?”His lips twitched. “Depends. Are we talking friction with intent, or… accidental third base?”I bit my lip, then smirked. “You tell me, you’re the one pitched like a tent over there.”Roman glanced down, completely unbothered by the situation. “Don’t flatter yourself, Hart. I always wake up like this.”“Right,” I teased. “Because your subconscious gets off to spreadsheets.”“Don’t knock