Chapter 176
**Sara**
I forced myself to step back, putting some much-needed distance between us. My heart thundered in my chest, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. "You've got four months to plan whatever devious things are going through that mind of yours. But first, I need to finish my MBA - which, may I remind you, is due in a month - and then find a job in the next three months."
"Mmm." His eyes raked over me in a way that made me want to drag him into the nearest alley. "And when you lose this little bet, I get you for an entire weekend. Though I think we should make it a week."
"A week?" I squeaked. "That wasn't part of the deal!"
"I'm negotiating." His smile turned predatory. "A weekend isn't nearly enough time for everything I have in mind."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "You seem awfully confident about winning."
"Because I am." He stepped closer, and I backed up until I hit the brick wall behind me. "The job market is brutal right now. And I know exactly how... distracting I can be."
"Is that so?" I raised my chin defiantly. "Well, prepare for a month of cold showers when I win."
His confident smile faltered. "You wouldn't actually..."
"Try me." I ducked under his arm and started walking again. "No sex. For thirty long, frustrating days."
"That's cruel." He caught up to me in two strides. "Even for you."
"Hey, you're the one who wanted to raise the stakes to a week."
"Because I'm going to win." But there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice now.
"We'll see about that." I grinned, enjoying his discomfort. "Better start practicing your self-control. Unless you want to resort to... other methods."
Tom's eyes widened slightly. "Other methods?"
"You know," I said, biting my lip to keep from laughing, "the kind that involves your hand and some lotion."
His mouth dropped open. "Sara!"
"What?" I gave him an innocent look. "I'm just saying if you can't handle the heat..."
Before I could finish my taunt, Tom's arms snaked around my waist from behind, pulling me against his chest. His cologne wrapped around me like a sensual fog, weakening my knees. His warm breath tickled my earlobe, making tremors race down my back.
"Oh, I can handle the heat just fine." His voice dropped to a growl that melted my insides. "And I'm certain I'm going to win this little bet of ours."
I tried to maintain my composure, but his hands were doing deliciously distracting things to my hips. "Pretty cocky for someone facing a month of celibacy."
His laugh rumbled through his chest. "Please. Even if by some miracle you win, you won't last a week without me." His teeth grazed my earlobe. "You'll be climbing through my window at 3 AM, begging for relief."
"I do not beg." But my voice betrayed me, coming out breathier than intended.
"No?" His fingers slipped under the hem of my t-shirt, tracing patterns on my bare skin. "What about last night when you were saying 'please, Tom, please' repeatedly..."
I felt my face flush hot at the memory. "That's... that's different."
"Is it?" His fingers traced higher up my ribs, making me shiver. "Because I distinctly remember-"
"Okay, okay!" I spun around in his arms, pressing my hand over his mouth. "We're in public, remember?"
He kissed my palm, eyes dancing with mischief. "Speaking of which... just to be clear about this bet. We can still have sex during these four months, right?"
I dropped my hand to his chest, playing with his tie. "Why? Worried about going without for that long?"
"Sara." His voice held a warning note that made heat pool in my belly.
"Yes, we can still have sex during the four months. I'm not that cruel."
"Thank god." He dipped his head to my neck, pressing hot kisses along my pulse. "Because I have plans for tonight that don't involve keeping my hands to myself."
"Tom!" I pushed at his chest, but not very hard. "We're literally on a public sidewalk."
His lips stilled against my neck, and he pulled back with a sheepish grin. "Shit, I completely forgot where we were." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, glancing around at the empty street. "Got a bit carried away there."
"You think?" I smoothed down my t-shirt where his wandering hands had rucked it up. "Though I suppose I wasn't exactly stopping you."
"Because you can't resist me." He waggled his eyebrows, earning himself another playful smack on the chest.
"Down, boy. Weren't we supposed to be getting food?" My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, making its opinion known.
He laughed, stepping back and offering his arm like some old-school gentleman. "Your stomach has spoken. Where to, my lady? I know this amazing Italian place around the corner. Their pasta is almost as good as what we had in bed last night-"
"Food!" I interrupted, feeling my cheeks flame. "Just... food. Normal, public-appropriate food. With clothes on."
"Pity about the clothes part," Tom mused, guiding me down the street. "But I suppose that's what dessert is for."
I jabbed his ribs with my elbow. "Can we focus on actual food for five minutes?"
"I am focused." He steered us toward a cozy-looking bistro. "I'm thinking about all sorts of delicious things I want to put in my-"
"Don't even think about finishing that sentence," I warned, quickly covering his mouth with my hand. His eyes sparkled with laughter above my fingers.
The hostess greeted us with a knowing smile as if she could sense the electric current running between us. "Table for two?"
"Yes, please." I removed my hand from Tom's mouth. "Preferably somewhere well-lit and public."
He raised an eyebrow. "Afraid you can't trust yourself in the dark corners?"
"I'm more worried about your wandering hands under the table."
The hostess's smile grew wider as she guided us to a booth. "Your server will be with you shortly," she said.
"Behave," I warned Tom as we slid into opposite sides of the booth. "I'm actually hungry. For food," I added quickly before he could make another innuendo.
"I'll be a perfect gentleman."
"You? A perfect gentleman? That'll be the day. Need I remind you about what happened at that fancy restaurant last month?"
"That was different." He picked up his menu, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "The tablecloth was longer."
"And your hands were definitely not gentlemanly." Heat crept up my neck at the memory.
"You weren't complaining at the time." He studied the wine list with exaggerated interest. "In fact, if I remember correctly, you were-"
I kicked him under the table. "Focus on the menu."
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