Chapter 170
**Sara**
The city lights blurred past as Tom's car wound through familiar streets. My weekend fairy tale was ending, but the memories still tingled across my skin.
"Home sweet home." Tom pulled up to my building, killing the engine. The silence felt heavy, with everything unsaid.
I fiddled with my seatbelt, not quite ready to leave our bubble. "Thanks for... everything."
"Everything?" His eyebrow quirked up. "That's rather vague."
"Well, I can't exactly list it all out. We'd be here all night."
"I wouldn't complain." His hand found mine across the console. "Though your neighbors might wonder why we're sitting in a parked car at midnight."
"Let them wonder." I traced my thumb across his knuckles. "It was... nice. Playing pretend."
"Pretend?" He brought my hand to his lips. "I seem to recall some very real moments."
I shivered as his lips brushed my skin. "You know what I mean. The whole newlywed charade."
"Ah yes, Mrs. Blackwood." His voice dropped lower, sending heat coursing through me. "You played the role rather convincingly."
"Me?" I shifted in my seat to face him. "You're the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself at dinner."
"Can you blame me?" His fingers traced up my arm. "My gorgeous wife was putting on quite a show with that dessert spoon."
"I was simply enjoying my chocolate mousse." I bit my lip, remembering how I'd deliberately licked every drop.
"The way you moaned over that mousse should be illegal." He tugged me closer across the console.
My breath caught as his lips found that sensitive spot below my ear. "Tom... I should go inside."
"Should you?" His teeth grazed my skin. "I could think of better ways to spend the night."
My whole body ached to take him up on that offer. But reality was crashing back - tomorrow's classes, assignments, the real world waiting beyond our weekend fantasy.
I pulled back just enough to see his face in the dim streetlight. "If I don't leave now, I never will."
"That's sort of the idea." His thumb traced my bottom lip.
"Mmm. Tempting." I pressed a quick kiss to his palm. "But some of us have an 8 AM class tomorrow. With a very demanding professor."
"I hear he's quite reasonable. Especially with students who bring him coffee."
"Is that so?" I gathered my willpower and reached for the door handle. "Don't miss me too much, Professor."
"Impossible request." His eyes followed me as I slipped out of the car.
I blew him a kiss before heading inside, swaying my hips just a little more than necessary. The sound of his engine didn't fade until I'd made it up to my apartment.
The silence hit me as soon as I locked the door. The weekend's magic fizzled out like a dying sparkler, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the faint hum of my refrigerator.
I padded to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge door. The cold air hit my face as I grabbed a water bottle. My reflection in the stainless steel caught my eye - I still had that post-weekend glow, my lips slightly swollen from Tom's goodbye kisses.
Flopping onto my couch, I kicked off my heels and took a long drink. The water was cold, but it did nothing to cool down the heat still coursing through my body whenever I thought about Tom's hands on me.
"Get it together, Sara," I muttered to myself. "He's your professor. This is insane."
But then again, what part of this weekend hadn't been insane? Playing newlyweds at a luxury resort, yacht rides, couple's massages... My thighs clenched at the memory of Tom's face when I moaned during that massage. His eyes had darkened, his jaw tightening as he tried to maintain his composure.
I shifted on the couch, uncomfortably aware of how worked up I was getting just from the memories. The water bottle sweated in my hand, droplets rolling down my wrist like Tom's tongue had...
"Nope. Stop that." I pressed the cold bottle against my flushed cheeks. "Think about... MBA. Student loans. Matt cheating on- actually, don't think about that either."
My phone buzzed. A text from Tom.
Tom: Made it home. The bed feels too empty without my 'wife' in it.
I bit my lip, heat pooling low in my belly. How did he manage to make even a text message sound so seductive?
Me: Careful, Professor. Your student needs to actually focus in class tomorrow.
My phone lit up with his response almost immediately.
Tom: I'd prefer if you focused on my... lecture material... rather than undressing me with your eyes during class.
Me: Excuse me? I never look at you during class. I'm the picture of studious attention.
Tom: Really? So you weren't biting your lip and crossing your legs every time I walked past your desk last week?
Heat crept up my neck. Had I been that obvious?
Me: That's called taking notes, Professor. Not everyone is as obsessed with you as you seem to think.
Tom: Mhmm. We'll see about that tomorrow when you're squirming in your seat, remembering what those hands can do.
I pressed my thighs together, cursing him for knowing exactly how to get under my skin.
Me: You're terrible. And distracting. Some of us actually need to study tonight.
Tom: Alright, alright. Get some rest, a brilliant student of mine. And try not to stay up all night thinking about your husband's... teaching methods.
A laugh bubbled up from my chest.
Me: Fake husband. And don't flatter yourself - I'll be dreaming about that chocolate mousse, not you.
Tom: The way you devoured that dessert, I'm not sure which would be more inappropriate to think about.
Me: Go to bed, Professor!
Tom: As my wife commands. Sweet dreams, Sara.
I tossed my phone aside, still grinning like an idiot. The man was insufferable. Absolutely insufferable. And yet here I was, grinning at my phone like a lovesick teenager.
My textbooks sat accusingly on the coffee table. Right. Study. Focus. Don't think about Tom's hands or mouth or how he'd looked at me across that fancy restaurant table.
"Nope!" I smacked my cheeks lightly. "MBA. Finance. Serious student mode."
I forced my eyes back to the textbook, determined to be productive. The words swam on the page, financial terms morphing into memories of Tom's fingers trailing down my spine...
"Focus!" I slapped my cheeks again, harder this time. My neighbors probably thought I was losing it.