Chapter 256
**Sara**
Tom pulled up to the curb outside my office building, the engine of his sleek car purring to a stop. I gathered my things, still feeling pleasantly relaxed from our morning together despite the hectic workday ahead.
"So this is where you work?" His eyes scanned the towering glass building, taking in the gleaming windows, which reflected the morning sun like a mirror reaching the sky.
"Mhmm. Impressed?"
"Actually, I was thinking I might get an office here." His tone was casual, but something in his expression made my stomach flutter.
I paused, my hand on the door handle, my heart suddenly racing. "What?" The thought of having him in the same building, of potentially running into him in the elevator or the lobby, sent an unexpected thrill through me.
"There's space available on the fifteenth floor. Prime location."
"And you know this how?"
His lips quirked. "I may have made some inquiries."
"Tom." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why would you need an office here?"
He leaned back in his seat, that infuriating smirk on his lips. "Think about it. You could drop by during your breaks, and we could have lunch together. Maybe even some private meetings."
"You're ridiculous." I shook my head, trying to fight the smile tugging at my mouth. "Don't you have classes to teach? And attending meetings at Blackwood Industries?"
"My schedule's flexible. I can manage it all. The space has an excellent view of the city."
"You don't need an office here, " I said, adjusting my blazer and smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. "Besides, wouldn't that be a bit distracting?"
"That's the point." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Think about it - spontaneous lunch breaks, private meetings..."
"You're impossible." I reached for my bag, but his hand caught my wrist.
"Am I?" His thumb traced circles on my skin. "Because your face says something different."
"My face isn't saying anything."
He cupped my cheek, turning me to face him. "See, you say no, but those eyes..." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip. "They're practically begging me to take that office."
I pulled back, fighting the heat rising in my cheeks. "My eyes are not begging for anything."
"Really?" He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "So you're not imagining running into me in the elevator? Or finding excuses to stop by my office?"
"Nope." I popped the 'p,' trying to sound casual despite my racing heart. "Not even a little bit."
"Liar." His lips brushed against my neck.
I swatted his shoulder. "Some of us actually need to work."
"Work is overrated." His fingers trailed along my collarbone. "But fine, go be responsible. I'll just sit here and browse office listings."
"You're ridiculous." I grabbed my bag and opened the car door. "And the answer is still no."
"We'll see." His confident smirk made my stomach flip. "Have a good day at work, Sara."
I stepped out of the car, straightening my skirt. "Goodbye, Tom."
"Wait." He leaned over, one hand on the passenger seat. "Let me pick you up tonight."
I bent down, peering back into the car with a raised eyebrow. "I'm a big girl now. Got my own job and everything."
"I thought you enjoyed our little rides together." His eyes raked over me, making my skin tingle. "Among other things."
"Down, boy. I'm a professional now, remember? Not your student anymore."
"Oh, I remember." His voice dropped lower. "But I also remember how you begged me this morning."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "I did not beg."
"No?" He smirked. "Should I quote you? I believe it was something like 'Please, Tom, harder-'"
"Okay!" I glanced around, thankful no one was within earshot. "That's enough memory lane for one morning."
"So, about that ride..."
I straightened up, adjusting my blazer. "I can handle myself."
"Can you?" His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Because I distinctly recall you having trouble handling yourself last night. And this morning. And-"
"Some of us have actual work to do." I cut him off, fighting a smile. "Important meetings. Serious business stuff."
"Important meetings about what?" His voice dropped to a seductive tone that curled my toes. "Spreadsheets? Because I could help you spread-"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence." I jabbed a finger at him, trying to maintain my professional composure despite the heat rising in my cheeks.
"What? I was going to say spreadsheets. Get your mind out of the gutter, Ms. Parker." His innocent expression didn't match the wicked glint in his eyes. "Though now that you mention it..."
"Tom!"
"Fine, fine. Go be professional. Just remember - when you're sitting in those boring meetings, thinking about those... spreadsheets..."
I rolled my eyes. "I won't be thinking about anything except work."
"Really?" He whispered. "Not even about how I bent you over the kitchen counter this morning?"
My breath caught. Images of our morning activities flashed through my mind, tingling my skin. "That's... that's not fair."
"Or how about that thing I did with my tongue that made you-"
"Okay!" I glanced around nervously, though the sidewalk was mostly empty. "You've made your point."
His grin widened. "So, about that ride home..."
I bit my lip, pretending to consider it. "We'll see."
"That's not a no."
"It's not a yes either." I started walking backward toward the building entrance. "Maybe I have plans."
"Plans that are better than me?" He revved the engine playfully. "I find that hard to believe."
"Careful, Professor. Your ego is showing."
"Among other things," he called after me. "Think about those spreadsheets!"
I flipped him off without looking back, but I couldn't hide my smile as I pushed through the revolving doors.
The lobby buzzed with the usual morning crowd - suits, briefcases, and the distinct aroma of overpriced coffee.
My heels clicked against the marble floor as I made my way to the elevators. The memory of Tom's suggestion about an office here made me snort. What was he thinking? Between his teaching and Blackwood Industries, adding another commitment seemed ridiculous.
I jabbed the elevator button, probably harder than necessary. A woman in a pencil skirt gave me a strange look as I muttered under my breath about impossible men and their impossible ideas.
The thing was, part of me - a very inappropriate, unprofessional part - kind of liked the idea. Images of stolen moments in his theoretical office flashed through my mind: heated kisses in his office room, his hands sliding under my skirt while discussing those damn "spreadsheets" he kept mentioning...
I shifted my weight, pressing my thighs together. Damn him. He'd done this on purpose, planting these thoughts right before my workday. I'd squirm in my chair during meetings, remembering how his fingers and tongue felt this morning...
I pressed the button again, willing my mind away from dangerous territory. But it was no use. I thought about elevator encounters - his broad shoulders pressing me against the mirrored wall, his breath hot on my neck...
"Get it together, Sara," I muttered, earning another look from Pencil Skirt Lady.
The real question was why he'd even consider this. Was this some elaborate scheme to keep an eye on me? Or maybe he was just trying to drive me crazy. If so, it was working. Between the morning's activities and these new fantasies, I wasn't sure how I'd focus on actual work today.
"Hey, Sara!"
I jumped, my thoughts scattering like startled birds.
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