Chapter 178
**Sara**
When Tom finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. "You were saying something about babies?" His rough voice rippled through my body.
"I... what?" My brain felt fuzzy, struggling to remember what we'd been talking about. Tom's kiss had effectively scrambled my thoughts, which I suspected was precisely his intention. "Oh wait - you were the one who brought up grandkids, mister 'think of the stories we could tell them.'"
"It was just a slip of the tongue." His hands wandered lower down my back. "Heat of the moment. Temporary insanity."
I pressed closer, enjoying how his breath caught. "So you weren't imagining little mini-mes running around calling you Grandpa Tom?"
"Can we please pretend those words never left my mouth?" His forehead pressed against mine. "I'm trying hard not to think about what this means."
"What what means?" I pulled back enough to see his face. "The fact that you're already planning our future family tree? Thinking about marriage and babies and-"
"Sara."
"Are you..." I bit my lip, suddenly uncertain. "Do you have actual feelings for me? Beyond the whole sexy professor-student thing?"
Tom's hands tightened on my hips. "What if I asked you the same question?"
"That's not an answer." My heart hammered against my ribs.
"Neither is that." His thumb traced circles on my hip bone, making concentrating hard.
We stood there, both avoiding the loaded question hanging between us. His cologne wrapped around me, familiar and intoxicating.
I swallowed hard, pushing down the surge of emotions threatening to spill out. One month left of my MBA—just one month, and then maybe we could have this conversation properly. But right now? The timing felt wrong, dangerous even—like opening Pandora's box while still technically being his student.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on my hip, hindering my attempt at rational thought. The street lamp cast shadows across his face, highlighting the ridiculous cheekbones that weakened my knees.
"We should..." My voice came out embarrassingly breathy. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Should we get going?"
"Are you trying to escape the conversation?" His eyes sparkled with understanding and something deeper I wasn't ready to analyze.
"Maybe I just want to get you somewhere private so I can properly thank you for dinner."
His grip tightened. "That's fighting dirty."
"I learned from the best." I ran my fingers down his tie, enjoying how his breath hitched. "Unless you'd rather stand here discussing feelings and future offspring?"
"Feelings can wait. I'm more interested in this... proper thank you you mentioned."
I traced my finger along his collar, feeling his pulse jump beneath my touch. "Well, I was thinking..."
"Dangerous habit."
"Shut up." I tugged his tie playfully. "I was thinking about how gentlemanly you were at dinner."
His hands slid lower down my back. "And?"
"And maybe you deserve a reward for such good behavior." I leaned closer, letting my lips brush his ear. "Your hands weren't exactly well-behaved under that table."
"My hands have minds of their own around you." His fingers dipped beneath my shirt hem, proving his point. "Besides, you weren't exactly innocent either."
"I was perfectly behaved."
"That thing with the dessert spoon was deliberate torture."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." I blinked innocently. "I was just enjoying my tiramisu."
"You were performing oral sex on silverware."
I burst out laughing. "I was not!"
"You were making love to that spoon, and you know it." His hands tightened on my hips. "Every. Single. Lick."
"I was eating dessert!" I protested, feeling my cheeks flush. "Like a normal person."
"Normal people don't make those sounds over tiramisu." His voice dropped lower. "You knew exactly what you were doing."
"Maybe you're projecting your dirty thoughts onto innocent dessert consumption." I poked his chest. "Says more about your mind than my eating habits."
"There was nothing innocent about the way you licked that spoon."
"Are we going to stand here debating my dessert etiquette all night?"
"Just calling it like I saw it." His hand found the small of my back, guiding me toward his parked car. "Though I'd rather continue this discussion somewhere more private."
The cool night air did little to calm the heat rising in my cheeks. Tom's hand stayed firmly on my back as we walked, his thumb tracing small circles that made it hard to focus on walking straight.
When we reached his ridiculously expensive car, Tom opened the passenger door with an exaggerated bow. "Your chariot awaits, my dessert-defiling princess."
"You're never going to let this go, are you?"
"That performance deserves to be remembered." He helped me into the seat, his touch lingering longer than necessary. "I'll never look at tiramisu the same way again."
I buckled my seatbelt as he rounded the car to the driver's side. "It was just dessert."
He slid into his seat with his usual grace. "Just dessert, she says. Like she wasn't conducting a master class in seduction with dairy products."
"You know what?" I turned to face him as he started the engine. "Maybe I was doing it on purpose."
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I knew it."
"Maybe I wanted to see if I could make you squirm a little." I placed my hand on his thigh. "See if I could crack that perfect professor composure."
"Mission accomplished."
I grinned, enjoying the power shift. "Good to know I can still surprise you."
"You've got a talent for it." His eyes met mine with a wicked glint. "And for other things, too."
"Oh really?" I ran my fingers up his thigh, watching his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "Like what?"
He took a sharp breath, fighting for control. "Like driving me absolutely insane."
"Insanity seems to be a common theme with us." I leaned back in my seat, stretching my legs and brushing his thigh again.
"If you keep that up, we'll never make it home."
"Maybe that's the point." I trailed my fingers higher, enjoying the way his jaw clenched. "Who says we need to make it home?"
"Sara..." His warning tone only egged me on.
"What?" I played innocently, fluttering my eyelashes at him. "I'm just sitting here."
"You're just trying to kill me."
"Not at all." My hand slid dangerously close to the bulge in his pants. "Just... keeping things interesting."
His breath hitched. "Interesting is one word for it."
The car's engine growled as he sped up, clearly trying to get us home faster. I chuckled, leaning back in my seat and deciding to give him a break.
The rest of the drive passed in a charged silence, punctuated only by the engine's hum and the occasional sound of our breathing. When we finally pulled into his driveway, he practically jumped out of the car and rounded it to open my door.
"A gentleman till the end," I teased as he helped me out.
"I'm about five seconds away from losing that title." He tugged me close, his hands firm on my hips.
"Only five seconds?" I pressed against him, feeling his heat through our clothes. "That's longer than I expected."
"Make that four seconds." His voice rumbled against my neck.
The elevator dinged behind us, and he practically dragged me inside, repeatedly jabbing the button like it would make us rise faster.
"Impatient much?" I laughed, but the sound caught in my throat as he pressed me against the mirrored wall.
His mouth crashed into mine, hungry and demanding. His tongue swept inside, tasting the wine from dinner. I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured my mouth.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
