Chapter 271
**Sara**
The fabric felt like liquid silk against my skin as I slipped it on in the fitting room. I caught my reflection and gasped. The dress clung to every curve, the slit revealing more leg than I'd shown in public since my wild college days.
"How does it fit?" Tom called through the door.
"Like sin." I bit my lip, turning to see the back - or lack thereof. "But you're not seeing it yet."
"That's cruel."
"That's incentive." I changed back into my clothes, adding the dress to our pile. Tom's raised eyebrow made me blush harder. "Don't look so smug."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face said plenty." I bumped his shoulder as we headed to checkout.
The total made me wince, but Tom just handed over his card like he was buying coffee. I tried not to think about how many months' rent I was wearing in these bags.
Back at his car, I collapsed into the passenger seat, surrounded by shopping bags. "I'm never letting you take me shopping again. This is way too much money."
"You know what's too much?" Tom started the engine. "How adorable you look when you're worried about my spending habits."
"I'm serious!" I swatted his arm. "You can't just throw money around like this."
"Sara." He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips. "I make more in a month than most people do in a year. Let me spend it on someone who matters."
"Still..." I glanced at the bags crowding the backseat. "It feels excessive."
"What feels excessive is how much time you're spending arguing about this instead of enjoying yourself." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "I want to spoil you. Is that such a terrible thing?"
I sighed, unable to fight my smile. "Fine. But next time, we're setting a budget."
"Whatever you say, beautiful." His knowing smirk told me he had no intention of following that rule.
I reached back, fishing out the bag with that sinful black dress. "What exactly did you have in mind for this one? Because it's definitely not office-appropriate."
Tom's eyes darkened as he pulled onto the highway. "That's for our private collection. I have some very specific ideas about how you could put it to use."
"Oh really?" I arched an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Tom's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his eyes flicking from the road to me, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Well, you could wear that dress with those heels that make your legs look like they go on for miles. You know the ones."
"The black stilettos?" I played along, already knowing where this was headed.
"Exactly. And underneath..." He paused, drawing out the anticipation. "You'd be wearing something scandalous. Something that leaves little to the imagination."
"Scandalous, huh?" I shifted in my seat, turning to face him better. "You're going to have to be more specific."
He chuckled. "Alright, how about this: a sexy bra, something lacy and barely there. And for the bottom..." Another pause, his grin widening. "Crotchless panties."
I burst out laughing, the image of me trying to pull off something so risqué popping into my head. "Crotchless panties? Really? Who even wears those?"
"You'd be surprised," he teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "But imagine it, Sara. You, in that dress, those heels, strutting your stuff just for me. A private show."
I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms with a smirk. "What exactly happens in this show?"
"First, you'd model that dress for me; let me see every curve, every line. Then, slowly, you'd start to strip. One piece at a time, driving me wild."
"And then?" I prompted, my heart pounding in my chest.
"And then," he growled, "I'd fuck you. Right there, with you in nothing but those heels and that sexy smile."
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "Well, that's quite the fantasy you've got there."
"It's not just a fantasy." His voice was serious now, filled with promise. "It's a plan."
I shook my head, laughing softly. "Well, there's just one little problem with your plan."
"Oh yeah?" He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. "And what's that?"
"I didn't pack any crotchless panties." I spread my hands, shrugging. "Guess your plan is foiled."
Tom laughed. "Is that all you're worried about?"
"Um, yeah," I shot back. "Kind of a crucial part of your little scenario."
He shook his head, still chuckling. "Sara, Sara, Sara. You really think I didn't plan ahead?"
I frowned, confusion replacing my amusement. "What do you mean?"
"Remember when you were in the fitting room, trying on that dress?" He glanced at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Yeah..." I drew out the word, still not following.
"While you were in there, admiring yourself in the mirror, I took the liberty of adding a few extras to our purchase."
My mouth dropped open as understanding dawned on me. "Tom! You did not!"
He just grinned wider, not even bothering to deny it. "I certainly did. And I can't wait to see you in them."
I smacked his arm, laughing despite myself. "You're insane! You can't just go around buying people crotchless panties!"
"Why not?" He shrugged, unrepentant. "I saw an opportunity, and I took it."
"An opportunity to what? Embarrass me?" I teased, still laughing.
"An opportunity to make our evening a little more exciting." He winked at me, and I felt a flush creep up my cheeks.
I crossed my legs, trying to ignore the heat building in my core at his suggestive tone. "You're absolutely ridiculous, you know that?"
"And yet you're still smiling."
"I'm not giving you any show tonight." I turned to stare out the window, watching the city lights blur past. "I have work tomorrow, remember?"
"Tomorrow then. I can be very patient when properly motivated."
"Tomorrow?" I scoffed, though my mind was already wandering to dangerous territory. "What makes you think I'll be in the mood tomorrow?"
"Because," he drawled, "you'll spend all day thinking about that dress. About those heels. About what's waiting in those shopping bags."
"You're awfully confident." I shifted in my seat, cursing how well he could read me.
"I'm just stating facts. By tomorrow night, you'll be dying to put on a show."
"I'll think about it." I tried to sound noncommittal, but my voice betrayed me with a slight tremor.
"Take all the time you need." His thumb traced circles on the steering wheel, making me think of other things those hands could do. "I'm happy to wait."
The car fell silent except for the soft purr of the engine. I watched Tom's profile, the way the passing streetlights played across his features, highlighting those cheekbones that could cut glass. His forearms flexed as he turned the wheel, and I found myself remembering how those arms felt wrapped around me.
"Stop that," he murmured, not taking his eyes off the road.
"Stop what?"
"Looking at me like you're undressing me with your eyes." His lips twitched. "It's very distracting."
"I wasn't-" I started to protest, then caught his knowing smirk. "Oh, shut up."
He just chuckled and kept driving, but the tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, trying to focus on anything but the way his hands gripped the wheel or how his throat moved when he swallowed.
This was going to be a long ride home.
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