Chapter 313
**Sara**
I pulled off Tom's sweater, inhaling his lingering scent one last time before tossing it onto the chair. The soft fabric had kept me warm all evening, but now the temperature in his apartment felt almost stifling.
My fingers traced the lace edge of my bra before unhooking it. The release of pressure made me sigh with relief. I let it drop to the floor, followed quickly by my jeans and underwear.
"This is all your fault," I muttered to my phone, which remained stubbornly silent. No new messages from Tom since our video call.
The silk pajama top slid cool against my bare skin as I slipped it on, leaving the matching bottoms folded on the dresser. His earlier words about sleeping naked in his bed had burrowed deep into my mind, and this felt like a decent compromise. Half-naked was still technically wearing clothes, right?
I crawled between the sheets, hyperaware of the silk brushing against places that usually had more coverage. The bed smelled like him - that mix of expensive cologne and something uniquely Tom that made my heart race.
"Where are you?" I grabbed my phone again, checking for messages. Nothing.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should I text him? No, that would seem desperate. But maybe just a casual message? Something innocent like 'Hope your meetings went well'?
Or maybe something less innocent, like 'Guess what I'm not wearing in your bed right now'?
I groaned and buried my face in his pillow. "This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman having a crisis over texting a guy."
The silk sheets whispered against my bare legs as I shifted positions. Every brush of fabric reminded me of his absence and suggestive comments about this exact scenario. Had he known I'd end up here, half-naked and thinking about him?
"Smug bastard," I mumbled into the pillow, but I couldn't help smiling. The bed felt enormous without him in it, and my skin tingled with phantom touches where his hands should be.
My phone remained silent, its dark screen mocking me. Where was he? Surely his meetings couldn't still be going on? Unless...
"No." I sat up, the sheets pooling around my waist. "You are not going to get jealous over imaginary Australian women."
But the thought had already taken root. What if he was at Dinner? What if some gorgeous executive had caught his eye? What if-
"Stop it!" I flopped back down, my hair fanning out across his pillow. "He's probably just busy. Or sleeping. Time zones exist, remember?"
The logical part of my brain knew I was being ridiculous, but the rest of me wanted to book that flight to Australia just to make sure.
I picked up my phone again, this time opening his contact. The words "My Heart Professor" stared back at me, making my chest flutter. When had I become this person? This girl who wore her professor's clothes and slept in his bed without underwear?
My laughter echoed in the empty room. "If Jessica could see me now..." She'd definitely high-five me, then demand details about the professor's silk sheets. Knowing her, she'd probably want to test them out herself - for research purposes, of course.
I rolled over, bunching the silky fabric between my fingers. The material felt cool against my skin, and I couldn't help but imagine Jessica's reaction to finding out I was sleeping here practically naked.
"So you're telling me," her voice rang clear in my head, "that you're in Professor Thick… No, Professor Hottie's bed, you are half naked, and you haven't sent him a single text? Sara, what are we going to do with you?"
I grabbed my phone and checked the time again. The screen showed no new messages from Tom. What was he doing right now? The time difference meant it was... I counted on my fingers, then gave up. Math was hard enough during the day, let alone when I was half-dressed in my professor's bed.
"What are you up to?" I typed quickly before I could overthink it.
The response came faster than expected - a photo that made my stomach growl. The restaurant looked fancy, with the Sydney Opera House visible through floor-to-ceiling windows. His message followed: "Dinner with the dynamic duo. The food's getting cold because someone needed the perfect Instagram shot."
I squinted at the photo, pressing my nose closer to the screen. The fancy restaurant looked exactly like something Tom would choose - all crystal chandeliers and white tablecloths. My stomach growled again at the sight of what looked like perfectly seared scallops.
"Dynamic duo?" I muttered, zooming in on the reflection in one of the wine glasses. All I could make out were blurry shapes across the table. A couple, maybe? The angle was terrible for playing detective.
I flopped onto my back, holding the phone above my face. Who was he having Dinner with? Business partners? Friends?
My finger hovered over the keyboard. Should I just ask? It was a normal question, right? Nothing weird about wanting to know who your... whatever he was... was having Dinner with on the other side of the world.
"Just ask, you coward," I told myself, then immediately deleted the half-typed question.
Instead, I went with: "Looks amazing! Save me some dessert."
The silk sheets rustled as I rolled over, burying my face in his pillow again. "You're pathetic, Sara Parker. Absolutely pathetic."
My phone stayed silent. There were no little bubbles showing he was typing, no 'ding' of an incoming message, nothing.
"Fine. I'll just ask." I grabbed my phone, typing quickly before my brain could stop me. "Who's the dynamic duo?"
Five minutes passed. Then ten. The clock on my phone mocked me with each passing minute.
"Maybe he's just busy eating." I rolled onto my back, holding the phone above my face. "Or maybe his phone died. Or maybe there's no service. Or maybe-"
The phone slipped from my grasp, smacking me right in the nose.
"Ow! Shit!" I rubbed my nose, glaring at the offending device. "That's what I get for being nosy."
I tossed the phone onto the nightstand, determined to ignore it. Sleep. Sleep was what I needed. Not answers about who Tom was having Dinner with in some fancy Australian restaurant.
One... two... three...
My hand crept toward the nightstand.
"No!" I yanked it back under the covers. "You are going to sleep. You are not going to check your phone again."
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on anything else. The silk sheets felt amazing against my bare legs. The pillow smelled like Tom's shampoo.
"Stop thinking about him!" I grabbed the second pillow and pressed it over my face. "Think about work! Yes, work."
Work. Spreadsheets. Numbers. Boring, safe numbers that didn't make my heart race or my skin tingle. Numbers that didn't have strong hands or-
My phone buzzed.
I launched myself at the nightstand so fast I nearly fell out of bed, the silk sheets tangling around my legs.
Tom: I've eaten all the dessert already. But don't worry; I'll give you something much more delicious when I get back.
Heat flooded my cheeks. That was definitely... I mean, he couldn't...
"Oh god." I buried my face in the pillow, trying to stop the images his message conjured. What kind of dessert exactly did he have in mind?
My phone buzzed again before I could spiral further into that particular fantasy.
Tom: Dynamic Duo = Sarah and Emma - Australia's top models. They're taking me back to their hotel for some private business discussions.
The phone slipped from my fingers, bouncing off the silk sheets. My heart dropped somewhere near my stomach. Models? Hotel? Private discussions?
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
