Chapter 188
**Sara**
The cool night air helped clear my head, though I wasn't nearly as drunk as Jessica - thank god.
Tom's car idled by the curb, its sleek black exterior reflecting the streetlights. He'd waited. Of course, he'd waited.
"Mission accomplished?" He raised an eyebrow as I slid into the passenger seat.
"If by 'mission' you mean preventing Jessica from starting an underground resistance against our squirrel overlords, then yes."
"I heard something about pigeons, too."
"Don't even get me started." I buckled my seatbelt, sinking into the leather seat. "According to her, they're working with the meter maids in some grand parking enforcement conspiracy."
"Fascinating theory." Tom pulled away from the curb. "Should I be concerned about the parking meter she was romancing earlier?"
"Oh, that relationship was doomed from the start. Too many trust issues. Plus, you know..." I waved my hand vaguely. "The whole metal pole thing."
Tom's laugh filled the car. "Quite the dealbreaker."
I stretched my legs, feeling the gentle hum of the engine beneath us. The city lights blurred past, creating a dreamy atmosphere that matched my slightly tipsy state. The silence between us felt comfortable, like a warm blanket.
"So," Tom glanced at me, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. "Your place or mine?"
"Trying to proposition me?" I batted my eyelashes dramatically.
"Just being practical. It's late, and you look ready to pass out."
"Mmm." I tilted my head, pretending to consider it deeply. "Well, that king-size bed of yours does have magical sleep-inducing properties. Plus, those cotton sheets? Pure heaven."
"Is that your way of inviting yourself over?"
"More like stating the obvious. Your bed is a cloud factory."
He shook his head with a hint of a smile. "A cloud factory?"
"Don't mock my metaphors. I'm working with limited brain cells right now."
"Fair enough." He switched lanes smoothly. "My place it is then."
"Such hospitality." I sank deeper into the seat, letting my eyes drift closed. "Though I should warn you - I might never leave that bed once I'm in it."
"Somehow, I'll manage to cope with that scenario."
The car purred as we turned onto his street. The familiar route made me smile - I'd been here enough times now that it felt almost like coming home. Though I'd never admit that out loud. Not yet, anyway.
Tom pulled into his reserved spot, the car sliding to a smooth stop.
"Do I need to carry you inside?" He turned to me with that infuriating smirk. "You were wobbling quite impressively earlier."
I unbuckled my seatbelt with exaggerated precision. "That last drink wore off ages ago."
"That's debatable."
"I can prove it." I pushed open the door and stepped out, making a show of walking in a perfectly straight line. "See? Olympic-level balance right here."
"Very impressive. I'm not sure the Olympics has a drunk walking category yet."
"Their loss."
The elevator ride up to his floor was mercifully quick, though Tom kept throwing amused glances my way every time I leaned against the wall for "purely aesthetic reasons." His apartment door clicked open, and we stepped into the familiar space that had somehow become my favorite late-night refuge.
"You know," I kicked off my heels, "I think your floor is crooked."
"Is that right?"
"Mhmm. It keeps tilting to the left. Very inconsiderate of it."
Tom's laugh echoed through the apartment. "I'll be sure to file a complaint with gravity first thing tomorrow."
I stumbled slightly on my way to his bedroom. "Make sure to CC me on that gravity complaint. I have evidence to submit."
"And what evidence would that be?" Tom followed close behind, his hand brushing my lower back to steady me.
"Exhibit A: This room is definitely spinning." I flopped face-first onto his bed, breathing in the fresh scent of his sheets. "God, I love this bed."
"Are you planning to sleep in those clothes?"
I rolled over, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. "What's wrong with my clothes?"
"Nothing. Just doesn't look comfortable for sleeping. Those jeans look particularly restrictive."
"Hmm." I traced a finger along the hem of my top. "I suppose I could sleep naked. If you want."
His eyes darkened, tracking the movement of my hand. "I'd never say no to that."
"Never?" I sat up slowly, pulling my top over my head. The cool air hit my skin, making me shiver. "That's quite the commitment, Professor."
"Some commitments are worth making." He moved toward me with that predatory grace that made my breath catch. "Need help with those jeans?"
"They are being particularly stubborn tonight." I fumbled with the button, exaggerating my struggle. "Must be in league with gravity."
Tom knelt before me, his fingers replacing mine. "Can't have that, can we?" He popped the button open with practiced ease, then slowly dragged the zipper down. "Lift your hips."
I complied, watching as he peeled the denim down my legs. His fingers trailed fire in their wake, leaving goosebumps in their path.
"Better?" His hands rested on my thighs, thumbs drawing small circles on my skin.
"Almost." I reached behind my back, unhooking my bra. "Now it's getting there."
Tom's breath hitched as the straps slid down my arms. "You're trying to kill me."
"Not at all." I let the bra fall to the floor, feeling the cool air hit my bare chest. My breasts bounced slightly with the movement, a tiny thrill running through me at Tom's intense gaze. "I'm just following your suggestion about comfortable sleeping attire."
His eyes darkened further, and he moved closer, his hands sliding up my thighs with deliberate slowness. "And how accommodating of you," he murmured, fingers hooking into the waistband of my panties.
"Always happy to oblige," I whispered, lifting my hips to help him slide them down. The lace fabric inched past my hips, then my thighs, and finally pooled around my ankles. His hands lingered on my skin, caressing gently as if savoring every inch.
Tom stood back up, his gaze sweeping over my now fully exposed body. "There," he said with a mischievous glint. "Now you're ready to sleep."
"You think I'm just going to pass out now?"
"That's what you said you wanted," he replied, though his tone betrayed him. The spark in his eyes told me he had other plans.
I watched as he peeled off his t-shirt in one fluid motion. His jeans followed suit, sliding down to reveal those toned thighs I had come to know so well. Finally, his boxers joined the pile on the floor.
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