Chapter 336
**Sara**
I woke to Elise's gentle voice informing me we were beginning our descent into Sydney. It was around 4 AM local time, and despite having slept well on the plane, I felt that peculiar disorientation that comes with crossing multiple time zones.
After freshening up and changing back into my travel clothes, I returned to my seat for landing. The lights of Sydney sparkled below us as we descended, a constellation of human activity against the dark backdrop of the harbor.
The plane touched down with barely a bump, taxiing to a private terminal area. As we came to a stop, I peered out the window and saw a familiar figure standing beside a sleek black car on the tarmac.
Tom.
He wore dark jeans and a light sweater, his hair slightly tousled as if he'd been running his hands through it while waiting. Even from this distance, I could see his smile when the plane door opened.
I thanked Elise and the pilots, then descended the stairs, my heart racing with each step. Tom's face lit up as our eyes met, and he closed the distance between us in long strides.
"Hi," I said, suddenly feeling shy despite knowing him too well. After all our time together and shared history, there was still something about Tom that could make me feel like I was seeing him for the first time.
"Hi yourself," he replied, his voice warm as he pulled me into his arms. He smelled like expensive cologne and something uniquely Tom, and I buried my face against his chest, breathing him in.
"You're really here," he murmured against my hair, sounding almost disbelieving.
"I'm really here," I confirmed, tilting my face up to look at him. "Did you think I wouldn't come?"
"I hoped you would," he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "But it still feels like a dream having you here."
He kissed me then, soft and sweet, his lips warm against mine. I felt the familiar flutter in my chest that only Tom could create, my eyes closing as I sank into the moment.
When he reluctantly pulled away, his fingers lingered at my waist as if he couldn't quite bring himself to break contact completely. "Come on, let's get you to the hotel. You must be exhausted."
After finishing the security checks and collecting my luggage, we finally made our way out of the airport. The drive from the airport to the hotel was a blur of city lights, and Tom's hand holding mine across the car's center console.
I found myself stealing glances at him as he navigated through the streets, his profile illuminated by passing streetlamps.
He pointed out landmarks as we passed them, promising proper sightseeing once I'd had some rest.
The hotel was predictably luxurious, with a lobby featuring marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and staff who seemed to materialize whenever needed.
His suite was more like an apartment than a hotel room, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of Sydney Harbor and the famous Opera House.
I walked around the space, taking in the plush carpet, the massive king-sized bed, and what appeared to be a fully stocked kitchen.
"Tom, this is huge," I said, running my hand along the marble countertop of the kitchen island. "Do you always stay in places like this when you travel?"
He shrugged, setting my bag down by the bedroom door. "I considered booking something smaller, but it's a business expense anyway. The company handles all the arrangements."
"I could fit my entire apartment in here twice," I muttered, opening one of the cabinets to find it stocked with snacks and drinks.
"I can stay in smaller accommodations, too," Tom said, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. "I'm not picky."
I turned in his arms, raising an eyebrow. "You guys are billionaires. Why would you ever stay somewhere small if you don't have to?"
"My apartment is small," he countered.
I snorted. "Your apartment is not small. It's at least three times the size of mine."
"That doesn't make it big," he argued, his hands sliding to my hips. "Big is a mansion or a palace."
"Alright, fine," I conceded with a laugh. "Your apartment is small. This hotel suite is medium-sized. And Buckingham Palace is big."
I slipped out of his grasp and walked over to the windows, drawn to the glittering view of the harbor. The Sydney Opera House was lit up against the night sky, its distinctive sail-shaped structures seeming to glow from within.
"It's beautiful," I breathed, placing my palm against the cool glass.
Tom came up behind me again, his chest warm against my back as he wrapped his arms around me. "It is. Feels like we're in a movie, doesn't it?"
"Mmm," I agreed, leaning back against him. "If this were a movie, I'd be wearing something sexy right now. Some silky negligee or fancy lingerie instead of these travel clothes."
His hands tightened on my waist. "Or nothing at all," he murmured into my ear, his voice dropping lower.
A shiver ran down my spine. "Yeah," I agreed, my voice suddenly a bit breathier. "Or naked."
Tom's lips found the sensitive spot just below my ear. "I like that version of the movie better," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.
I turned in his arms, facing him now with the glittering Sydney skyline as our backdrop. "Me too," I said, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair. "But I've been on a plane for nearly fifteen hours. I probably smell like recycled air and airplane food."
"You smell perfect," he insisted, burying his face in my neck and inhaling deeply.
I laughed, the sound vibrating against his lips. "You're either lying, or your sense of smell was damaged in that fake arrest incident."
His hands slid around my waist, pulling me closer. "I missed you," he murmured against my skin. "Every minute felt like an hour."
"It's only been a week," I reminded him, but my fingers were already tangling in his hair, betraying how much I'd missed him too.
"The longest week of my life," Tom said, lifting his head to meet my eyes. His eyes were dark and intense in the dim light of the suite, with the Sydney skyline glittering behind us. "Never again."
"Never again what?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Never leaving you for that long again." His thumb traced my lower lip, sending tingles down my spine. "It's unbearable."
I wanted to make a joke, to lighten the moment that suddenly felt heavy with meaning, but the words died in my throat as he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. Soft at first, tentative, as if he was asking permission. I answered by pressing closer, my hands sliding up to cup his face.
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