Chapter 346
**Sara**
As we stepped out of the hotel, I wobbled slightly, the soreness between my legs a pleasant reminder of our morning activities. Tom caught my elbow, steadying me with a knowing smirk.
"Shut up," I muttered, adjusting my sunglasses.
"I didn't say anything." His innocent expression wouldn't have fooled a blind person.
"Your face said it all." I poked him in the ribs. "Wipe that smug look off before I change my mind about sightseeing."
Tom guided me toward a sleek black car waiting at the curb, his hand resting possessively on my lower back. The warmth of his touch seeped through my dress, sending pleasant tingles up my spine.
"Nice car," I said, running my hand along the sleek black exterior. "Let me guess - another perk of being a Blackwood?"
"One of the few I actually enjoy," he admitted, opening the passenger door for me.
I slid into the buttery leather seat, crossing my legs deliberately as I settled in. Tom's eyes tracked the movement, lingering on the exposed skin of my thighs.
"You know," I said, adjusting my dress to show just a hint more leg. "I should have worn something more tempting. I should have really given you something to look at while you drive."
Tom's eyes darkened as he leaned into the car, one hand braced on the door frame. "Trust me, sunshine, you don't need to try any harder. That dress is already making it difficult to remember why we're leaving the hotel at all."
"Oh?" I trailed a finger down his chest. "I thought I was being practical with my outfit choices."
"There's nothing practical about how you look right now," he said, voice dropping lower. "You could wear a potato sack, and I'd still be fighting the urge to pull over and bend you over the hood."
I laughed, heat blooming in my cheeks. "Such a romantic."
"You don't need revealing clothes to tempt me, Sara," he said, his expression suddenly serious. "You're beautiful in anything you wear."
My heart did a little flip in my chest. "That was unexpectedly sweet."
"Don't sound so surprised." He feigned offense. "I can be sweet when the situation calls for it."
"I'm learning that," I said, reaching up to straighten his collar. "Sweet boyfriend taking his girlfriend sightseeing."
"Boyfriend, huh?" His smile was pleased, almost boyish.
"Well, that's what we are now, right? This is our first official outing as a couple." I bit my lip, suddenly feeling shy. "I hope it's memorable."
Tom leaned in closer, his breath warm against my lips. "I'll make sure of it."
Before I could respond, his mouth captured mine. What started as a gentle press of lips quickly deepened as his tongue slid against the seam of my mouth, seeking entrance. I opened to him with a sigh, my hands coming up to tangle in his hair.
He tasted like coffee and mint, his tongue stroking against mine with deliberate, unhurried movements that made heat pool low in my belly. One of his hands cupped my face, tilting my head for better access as he explored my mouth thoroughly like he had all the time in the world.
I moaned softly when he caught my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. My fingers tightened in his hair, earning a growl that vibrated through his chest.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"If you keep kissing me like that," I said, my voice embarrassingly breathy, "we're never going to leave this parking lot."
"Would that be such a bad thing?" He brushed his thumb across my lower lip, his touch feather-light.
"Yes, because I'd never forgive you for promising to show me Sydney and then just showing me the inside of your car instead."
Tom laughed, pressing one more quick kiss to my lips before straightening up. "Fair enough. Sightseeing first, car sex later."
"I didn't agree to car sex!" I protested as he closed my door and walked around to the driver's side.
"You didn't disagree either," he pointed out, sliding behind the wheel with fluid grace. The engine purred to life with a turn of the key.
"Just drive, Tom, before I change my mind."
Tom navigated through Sydney's busy streets with the confidence of someone who'd done it a hundred times before. His left hand rested casually on the steering wheel while his right found its way to my thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the fabric of my dress.
"Have you been to Sydney before?" I asked, placing my hand over his.
"A few times for business." He glanced at me. "This is the first time I've actually wanted to see the tourist spots."
"Because you have such excellent company?"
"Precisely." He squeezed my thigh. "Look up ahead."
I followed his gaze and gasped. The Sydney Opera House rose before us, its distinctive white sail-shaped shells gleaming in the sunlight against the backdrop of the harbor. Pictures didn't do it justice – the building seemed to float above the water like some magnificent maritime creature.
"It's breathtaking," I whispered, leaning forward in my seat.
Tom's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Wait until you see it up close."
After parking, we walked hand-in-hand toward the entrance, where a woman in a crisp uniform waited.
"Mr. Blackwood?" She extended her hand. "I'm Valerie, your private guide for today."
Tom shook her hand. "Thank you for accommodating us on short notice. This is Sara."
"Welcome to the Sydney Opera House," Valerie smiled warmly. "You're in for a treat – we'll be seeing areas most visitors don't get access to."
I shot Tom a questioning look.
"Connections," he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling my skin.
"Of course, you have connections," I muttered. "Is there anywhere in the world where the Blackwood name doesn't open doors?"
"Antarctica, probably. Penguins aren't impressed by net worth."
I snorted with laughter as Valerie led us inside.
The tour began in the main foyer, where Valerie explained how Danish architect Jørn Utzon won the international competition to design the Opera House in 1957.
"His design was pulled from the rejected pile by one of the judges," she said. "The construction was supposed to take four years and cost 7 million Australian dollars."
"Let me guess," I interjected. "It took longer and cost more."
Valerie grinned. "Fourteen years and 102 million dollars."
"Only off by a factor of fourteen. Not bad for government planning," Tom quipped.
As we moved through the building, Valerie shared fascinating details about the architectural challenges. The iconic shells weren't spherical but derived from a single sphere, which solved the engineering puzzle of how to build them.
"The exterior features over one million tiles," she explained as we examined the intricate patterns up close. "They're self-cleaning when it rains."
I pulled out my phone, snapping pictures of the geometric tile arrangements. "That's genius."
"The tiles were manufactured in Sweden," Valerie continued. "Each one was handcrafted."