Timing Is Everything

Timing Is Everything
Chapter 297: Timing Is Everything 

Savannah 

“Oh my God, we’re finally getting married.” The words slipped out of me before I could stop them. 

Roman glanced at me from the driver’s seat, one hand resting loosely on the wheel, the other reaching across the console to lace his fingers through mine. 

His thumb brushed over my knuckles in slow, absent circles. “We are, baby,” he said simply.

The city drifted past outside the window in muted motion—traffic lights blinking, pedestrians crossing, morning sunlight glinting off glass buildings. Everything looked ordinary. 

But nothing felt ordinary about today to me. 

I pressed my lips together, fighting the strange, overwhelming urge to cry and laugh at the same time.

“I thought…” I paused, searching for words that wouldn’t sound too heavy for such a bright morning. “I thought we’d never make it here.”

Roman’s grip tightened slightly, grounding me. “I never doubted we would,” he admitted quietly. “And I never stopped wanting it.”

I turned toward him fully. “Wanting what?”

“You,” he said, like the answer had always been obvious. “A life with you. Even when you were too stubborn to see it. Even when you were fighting it.”

Something inside my chest softened completely.

Roman’s gaze returned briefly to the traffic, but his voice remained steady, thoughtful.

“I didn’t picture this from the start,” he continued. “I didn’t imagine marrying you. Or building a family. I didn’t imagine I’d get another chance at something like this.” His jaw flexed, emotion flickering through his expression. “But somewhere along the way… you changed what I believed was possible.”

My throat tightened.

“I’ve loved you for longer than I ever admitted,” he said. “Maybe not in the way I understand now. But I was always drawn to your laughter and your chaos. Always protective of you. Always… yours, in some way.”

I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly.

“I didn’t love you like this before,” I confessed. “Not as a lover.” I gave a small, shaky laugh. “You were my best friend. My safe place. I didn’t even realize when everything changed.”

Roman lifted a brow, amused but attentive. “And now?” he asked softly.

I intertwined our fingers tighter, pressing his hand against my heart.

“Now you're my husband. And I’m going to devote my life to loving you,” I said. “To building a home with you. To raising your children. To choosing you every single day.”

Roman barked out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Save the vows for the courthouse, Sav,” he teased. “You’re going to ruin my composure before we even get there.”

I rolled my eyes, but warmth spread through me all the same.

The rest of the drive unfolded in a gentle, easy quietness. Not empty silence—just a shared stillness filled with anticipation and comfort. 

When the courthouse came into view, my heartbeat quickened.

Roman parked, stepped out, and immediately came around to open my door. His hand steadied me as I stepped onto the pavement, smoothing out my slip dress I'd chosen for today, and for a moment we simply stood there, facing the building that would quietly, legally bind our lives together.

“You ready?” he murmured.

I nodded. “Very ready.” 

We walked inside together.

Terry Goldberg was waiting near the entrance, hands clasped behind his back, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Well,” he said, beaming. “If it isn’t the bride and groom.”

Roman clasped his hand in greeting. “Good to see you again.”

Goldberg turned to me next, his smile widening with exaggerated warmth. “Savannah. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely.

He nodded once, then casually added, “Also—you’re fired.”

I blinked. “What?!”

Roman made a strangled noise beside me. I glared at him. 

“You’ve been gone for two weeks,” Goldberg continued matter-of-factly. “We had to fill the position. Someone else is doing your job now.”

My mouth fell open. “I—what—today? You’re telling me this today?”

Roman doubled over, laughing helplessly. He wiped at his eyes, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he managed. “You got fired on your wedding day.”

“This is not funny!” I protested, though a smile betrayed me. “This is not right.” 

Goldberg shrugged innocently. “Timing is everything.”

The absurdity of it dissolved whatever nerves remained. Laughter came easily after that. The tension that had once shadowed every moment of our lives was gone. In its place was something buoyant and bright.

The ceremony itself was simple, quiet and intimate. But nothing about it felt small.

When we stood facing each other, hands joined, the world seemed to narrow into a single point of focus—his eyes, steady and certain.

Roman spoke first. His voice was low.

“You are the life I didn’t know I would be brave enough to choose,” he said. “But now that I have, there is nothing I want more fiercely than forever with you. I promise to protect you. To stand beside you. To love you in every version of yourself—strong, fragile, joyful, afraid. Every single day.”

Emotion blurred my vision.

“I choose you,” I whispered when it was my turn. “In every lifetime, in every storm, in every quiet moment. You are my home. I'll always choose you. It'll always be us. Forever.”

Goldberg cleared his throat loudly at the appropriate moment with theatrical solemnity. Roman signed first. And I followed. Goldberg did too. 

And just like that—it was done. Everything felt… right.

Roman’s lips brushed mine in a kiss that was soft but deeply certain, as if sealing not just a promise, but a destiny long deferred.

“You're legally my husband now.” I gushed, unable to contain my excitement. 

Roman smirked. “And you're my wife now.” 

Later, he took me to a restaurant glowing with warm lights and rich aromas. My favorite cuisine. Mexican. He had remembered.

We talked, laughed, lingered over food we barely tasted because conversation mattered more. His hand rested on my knee beneath the table, thumb drawing slow patterns that made warmth curl low in my stomach.

“You realize,” he murmured at one point, leaning closer, “this technically counts as foreplay.”

I choked on my drink. “Roman.”

“What?” His expression was pure innocence. “We are married now. I have legal rights.”

“You are shameless.”

“And you love me anyway.”

He wasn’t wrong. I loved every side of him. Including his shameless side. 

As the evening deepened, the teasing grew softer, heavier with implication. Every glance carried promise. Every brush of his fingers sent a quiet spark through me.

When we finally stepped outside, cool air against flushed skin, Roman leaned close to my ear, voice dropping to a husky whisper.

“I hope you wore something easy to take off,” he said. “Because tonight… I intend to thoroughly celebrate my wife.”

Heat flooded my cheeks instantly. I glanced around in embarrassment, certain everyone could hear the indecent confidence in his tone.

“Roman,” I whispered, mortified.

He only smiled—slow, wicked, utterly unapologetic—as he led me toward the car.

And my heart, traitorous and eager, followed without resistance.

\~~~~~~

Third Person POV

The bedroom door barely closed behind them before Savannah's hands were at Roman's throat, yanking at the knot of his tie with clumsy, desperate fingers. 

They stumbled backward into the room, mouths crushed together, kissing with a ferocity that left them both breathless. Her thumbs hooked beneath his collar, shoving the tie aside as she attacked the buttons of his shirt, not bothering to be gentle—half the buttons survived, the others scattering across the hardwood floor like scattered pearls.

"You're not supposed to be doing this," she gasped against his mouth, even as her palms flattened against his chest, feeling the bandages beneath the fabric, the warmth of his healing skin.

"Neither are you," Roman growled back, his voice rough as his hands slid down her sides, gathering the ivory silk of her wedding dress. 

The slip dress, simple and elegant, the one she'd worn to the courthouse just hours ago when a judge had made them husband and wife with a few signatures and a witness.

He pulled the thin straps down her shoulders, the silk sliding against her skin like water, catching briefly at her hips before surrendering to gravity and pooling around her feet in a soft heap. 

She stood before him in nothing but pale panties, her body glowing in the dim lamplight, and Roman's breath caught in his throat.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before his mouth found her breast.

Savannah's head fell back on a moan as his tongue dragged across her nipple, wet and hot, before his lips sealed around the peak and sucked. Hard. 

Her hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, pulling him closer as he worshipped her. He massaged her other breast with calloused fingers, rolling and pinching the nipple until she whimpered, then transferred his mouth, sucking, biting just hard enough to make her gasp.

"Roman—" His name came out broken, desperate. "Bed. Now."

They somehow made it the few steps to the bed, collapsing together onto the white duvet. Roman shoved his shirt off his shoulders, the fabric catching on his bandaged abdomen before he tore it away. 

His mouth was on her again within seconds—her neck, her collarbone, trailing down her stomach while his hands hooked into the waistband of her panties and dragged them down her thighs impatiently. 

She lifted her hips, helping him, and then he was spreading her open, his broad hands pressing her thighs apart as he lowered his head between them.

The first stroke of his tongue made her entire body jerk. He held her legs apart, his grip firm enough to leave bruises, and licked into her with a hunger that bordered on violent. 

Savannah's back arched off the bed, one hand flying to the headboard, knuckles white as she gripped for dear life, the other hand tangling in Roman's hair, holding him exactly where she needed him.

"God, yes—" The words spilled from her lips in a breathless stream. "Like that, don't stop, don't—"

He sucked her clit into his mouth, and she shattered, or almost did. She was so close, her thighs trembling around his head, her hips rolling against his face, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, chasing the release building inside her like a gathering storm—

And then he pulled away.

"Roman!" The frustration in her voice was almost a yell. She lifted her head to glare at him, to demand he finish what he started, but he was already moving, already unzipping his pants with hands that shook with urgency. 

He shoved the fabric down below his ass alongside his boxers, not even bothering to remove them entirely, and then he was lining himself up and slamming into her in one brutal thrust.

Savannah's scream echoed through the room. Her back bowed off the mattress, her nails raking down his shoulders as her body struggled to accommodate the sudden, savage intrusion. 

He didn't give her time to adjust, didn't ease into it—he pulled back and drove into her again, setting a punishing rhythm that made the bed frame creak and slam against the wall.

"Look at me," Roman commanded through gritted teeth, his hips pistoning relentlessly.

She forced her eyes open, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes glazed with pleasure. He was watching her with an intensity that made her core clench around him, watching her breasts bounce with every thrust, watching the way her mouth fell open on moan after moan.

"Feel good?" he asked, his voice strained. "Tell me how it feels."

"So good—" She grabbed at the bedpost behind her head once again, the hold grounding her as he fucked her harder and deeper. "So full, you're so—ah—Roman, yes, like that—"

He shifted the angle slightly, hooking one of her legs over his elbow, spreading her wider, and the new position let him reach something inside her that made stars explode behind her eyes. 

She was screaming now, didn't care who heard, didn't care about anything except the way he filled her completely, the wet slap of skin against skin, the guttural sounds coming from his throat with every thrust.

Her free hand reached back, grabbing his ass, her nails digging into his flesh, pulling him in deeper into her. Wanting more, needing everything he could give. 

Roman's eyes dropped to where their bodies joined, watched himself disappear into her over and over. The bandage around his abdomen was slowly turning red, and the sight made him groan low in his chest. Roman was far too gone to care nor stop. 

"Gonna come for me?" His words were ragged, broken. "Come on my cock, Savannah. Let me feel you."

"I'm—" Her body tightened, coiling toward release. "Roman, I'm going to—"

"Give it to me." He drove into her with increased urgency, his pace becoming erratic and desperate. "Now. Come now."

Savannah shattered around him, her orgasm ripping through her in waves that made her whole body shake and tremble. Roman followed seconds later, burying himself deep and spilling inside her with a groan that sounded like her name and a cuss all twisted together.

They collapsed together onto the sweat-damp sheets, chests heaving, hearts pounding in tandem. Roman's forehead pressed against hers, both of them breathing like they'd run a marathon, his softening cock still nestled inside her.

"Happy wedding night," he finally murmured against her lips, and she let out a breathless, exhausted laugh.