Chapter 362
**Sara**
He strode into the bedroom, leaving me flushed and wanting in the bathroom doorway. I heard his side of the conversation, clipped responses, and an increasingly annoyed tone.
"Yes, I understand... No, that won't be necessary... Yes, we'll handle it tomorrow."
He hung up with more force than necessary and turned to me with an apologetic look. "Business call."
"Everything okay?"
"Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." He ran a hand through his damp hair. "But it killed the mood, didn't it?"
I walked over to him, untying my robe and letting it fall open. "I don't know about that..."
His eyes swept hungrily over my body. He pulled me close, his mouth crashing on mine in a kiss that made me melt against him. Just as his hands started pushing my robe off completely, my stomach gave an embarrassingly loud growl.
Tom broke the kiss, laughing against my lips. "Hungry?"
I covered my face, mortified. "Apparently."
"Room service it is." He kissed my forehead and reached for the hotel menu on the nightstand. "What are you in the mood for?"
"Besides you?" I tied my robe back up, accepting that we were taking a food break. "Something with carbs. Lots of carbs."
We settled on the bed with the menu between us, debating the merits of various dishes. I curled into his side, enjoying the warm solidness of him as we decided on a feast: steak for him, pasta for me, and a ridiculous assortment of sides and desserts to share.
Tom called in our order while I found the TV remote and started flipping through channels.
"Food will be here in thirty minutes," he announced, joining me back on the bed. "What are we watching?"
"Nothing yet." I tossed the remote aside and shifted to face him. "Let's talk instead."
"About?"
"I don't know. Anything." I traced patterns on his chest through his robe. "Tell me something I don't know about you."
He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. "I'm terrified of spiders."
"Seriously? Big, bad Thomas Blackwood is afraid of tiny spiders?"
"Size has nothing to do with it. They're creepy little fuckers with too many legs."
I laughed, delighted by this new information. "That's adorable. What else?"
"My turn to ask something." He shifted to prop himself up on his elbow. "What are your plans? For the future, I mean."
The question caught me off guard. "That's a big topic."
"We've got time before the food arrives."
I bit my lip, considering how to articulate thoughts I'd barely admitted to myself. "I've been thinking a lot lately. About what I want."
"And what's that?" His eyes were serious, attentive.
"I want to do something on my own. Start a business, maybe." I sat up straighter, the idea becoming more solid as I spoke it aloud. "I don't want to just be some corporate drone forever, you know?"
"What kind of business?"
"I'm not sure yet. But something that's mine." I twisted the belt of my robe nervously. "And... I need it to be completely separate from you and your money."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Why's that?"
"Because I don't want anyone to think I'm with you for your wealth. Or that I succeeded because of your connections." The words rushed out now. "I need to prove to myself as much as anyone that I can make it on my own terms."
Tom was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. "Sara, who gives a fuck what other people think?"
"I do," I admitted. "Maybe that's stupid, but I can't help it."
"It's not stupid." He sighed. "But you shouldn't let fear of judgment dictate your choices either."
"It's not just that. This is something I need to do for me." I held his gaze, willing him to understand. "I need to know I can stand on my own two feet."
His expression softened at my words. "So what's your grand plan then? What kind of business are you thinking about?"
"That's the problem; I don't have a specific plan yet." I flopped back against the pillows with a frustrated groan. "I just know I want something of my own. I'll figure out the details in the coming days."
"You could start small. Test a few ideas, see what sticks."
"Maybe," I rolled onto my stomach, propping my chin on my hands. "Would that bother you? Me being all independent and businessy?"
"Are you kidding?" His laugh was genuine. "Sara, you being ambitious is fucking sexy. I'd never want to hold you back."
"Even if it means I'm not available at your beck and call?" I teased.
"I'll survive." He ran his hand up my leg, slipping under my robe to squeeze my ass. "Barely, but I'll manage."
I wiggled away from his wandering hand, laughing. "I'm serious!"
"So am I." He sobered, his eyes meeting mine. "Do what makes you happy. That's all I want for you."
"Really? You're not just saying that because you're trying to get laid tonight?"
"Well, that's certainly a bonus." His smile turned wicked. "But no, I mean it. Whatever direction you want to take, I'm on board."
"What if I want to start a rival finance firm and steal all your students?"
"Then I'd say prepare for war." He lunged suddenly, pinning me to the bed and tickling my sides mercilessly. "No one steals from Professor Blackwood."
I shrieked with laughter, squirming beneath him. "Stop! I surrender!"
"Say I'm the best finance professor in the world," he demanded, fingers still torturing my ribs.
"Never!" I gasped, trying and failing to escape.
"Say it, Parker." His hands moved to my most ticklish spot just under my arms.
"Fine! You're the best finance professor in the world! Now stop, you monster!"
He relented, smirking down at me as I caught my breath. "And don't you forget it."
I stuck my tongue out at him. "Tyrant."
"You love it."
Before I could respond, a knock at the door announced our food's arrival. Tom rolled off me and retied his robe before answering. A server wheeled in a cart laden with covered dishes, the smells making my mouth water immediately.
Tom tipped the man generously and closed the door behind him.
"This is ridiculous," I said, surveying the spread as Tom uncovered each dish. "We're never going to eat all this."
"Speak for yourself. I worked up an appetite watching you in that bikini all day." He handed me a plate. "Besides, leftovers make excellent midnight snacks."
We settled on the bed with our feast, Tom pouring us each a glass of wine from the bottle he'd opened earlier. The first bite of creamy pasta made me moan shamelessly.
"Jesus, that sound," Tom muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "You're killing me."
"Can't help it. This is orgasmic." I twirled another forkful, deliberately letting some sauce cling to my lower lip before slowly licking it off.
"You're playing with fire."
"Am I?" I batted my eyelashes innocently. "I'm just enjoying my dinner."
His eyes narrowed. "Two can play that game."
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