Chapter 98
**Sara**
I glanced at the clock on Tom's dashboard as he pulled up to my apartment building. 7:09 AM. Shit. I had class in less than two hours, and I still needed to shower, change, and somehow transform from "just-rolled-out-of-my-professor's-bed" Sara to "responsible MBA student" Sara.
"Thanks for the ride, Tom," I teased, unbuckling my seatbelt. My fingers lingered on the clasp, not quite ready to leave the warmth of his car—or his company.
"Anytime, Sara. Though I gotta say, I prefer when you're riding something else."
I smacked his arm playfully, my cheeks flushing. "Professor! Such scandalous talk before 8 AM."
He leaned in close, his breath tickling my ear. "What can I say? You bring out my rebellious side."
"Oh please, you were plenty rebellious before I came along. I bet you were corrupting innocent grad students left and right."
"Ah, but none quite as delightfully corruptible as you."
"Is that so?" I leaned in, my lips barely brushing against his. "Maybe I'm the one corrupting you."
Before he could respond, I closed the gap, pressing my lips against his. Tom's hand found my waist, pulling me closer. The gear shift dug into my side, but I couldn't have cared less. His touch sent electricity through my body, making me forget about the world outside this car.
His fingers trailed down to my ass, giving it a firm squeeze. I gasped into his mouth, heat flooding my cheeks. Tom took advantage of my parted lips, deepening the kiss. His other hand tangled in my hair, holding me in place as if I'd ever dreamt of pulling away.
Reality crashed back in as a car horn blared nearby. I jerked away, my heart pounding.
"Shit, Tom," I panted, glancing around nervously. "Someone's gonna see us going at it like horny teenagers."
Tom chuckled, his hand still resting on my thigh. "Wouldn't want to tarnish that squeaky-clean MBA student image of yours, would we?"
I tried to ignore the heat still coursing through my body. "Oh, please. We both know I'm far from squeaky-clean. But seriously, we need to cool it in public."
"Agreed," Tom nodded, his face growing serious. "On campus, it's strictly professor and student. No more stolen glances in lecture halls or 'accidental' brushes in the corridors."
"Right," I said, straightening my t-shirt. "And definitely no more make-out sessions in your office."
"I don't recall any make-out sessions in my office."
"Exactly," I winked. "And let's keep it that way."
We sat silently for a moment, the air thick with unspoken desire. I knew I'd skip class altogether if I didn't leave now.
"So," I said, reaching for the door handle. "I should probably go. Got a full day of classes ahead."
Tom nodded, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "Any plans for this evening?"
I bit my lip, considering Tom's question. "Well, I've got a hot date with my textbooks tonight."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Sounds thrilling. Sure, I can't tempt you with something more... exciting?"
"Down, boy," I laughed. "Some of us still have to earn our degrees. But..." I trailed off, pretending to think it over. "I suppose I could pencil you in after 8. You know, for some hands-on tutoring."
"I like the sound of that."
I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. "Play your cards right, and there might be more than just hands involved."
With that, I hopped out of the car, throwing a wink over my shoulder as I sauntered towards my building. I could feel Tom's eyes on me, probably checking out my ass in these jeans. Let him look. It'd give him something to think about during his lectures today.
I stripped as soon as I got inside, clothes trailing to the bathroom. T-shirt, jeans, bra (unhooked one-handed - a point of pride), and panties hit the floor.
The hot water of the shower felt heavenly on my skin, washing away the remnants of last night's... activities. I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander back to Tom's apartment, his hands on my body, his lips on my-
"Focus, Sara," I muttered, reaching for the shampoo. "You've got class in an hour."
I stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself. As much as I wanted to linger in the steamy bathroom, daydreaming about Tom, I knew I had to hustle. I grabbed a matching set of lacy black underwear from my dresser. Hey, just because no one else would see them didn't mean I couldn't feel sexy underneath my clothes.
I put on the bra, adjusting it for lift and comfort, then slid on the panties that hugged my curves perfectly. For a moment, I admired my reflection in the mirror. Not bad, Sara. Not bad at all.
I grabbed jeans and a loose sweater—comfy, casual, and unsexy—perfect for blending in with other tired grad students.
I arrived at the lecture hall with minutes to spare, scanning the rows for a familiar face. There she was - Jessica, my friend and partner in crime. I slid into the seat next to her, dropping my backpack with a thud.
"Morning, Jess," I whispered, fishing out my laptop.
Jessica eyed me up and down, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well, well, look at you, all casual and comfy. If you keep dressing like that, the professor won't even glance your way."
"Shut up," I hissed, elbowing her playfully. "Some of us came here to learn, not to play dress-up."
Jessica snorted, clearly unconvinced. Before she could fire back another quip, I spotted Mia and Jake a few rows down, heads bent close together.
"Hey, Mia! Jake!" I called out, waving. They looked up, startled, before waving back with matching grins.
I turned to Jessica, lowering my voice. "Are they, like, a thing now? They seem... cozy."
"Maybe? I don't know for sure. But speaking of cozy..." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "What's the deal with you and Professor Thomas, huh?"
I felt my cheeks flush and quickly shushed her. "Keep it down, will you? Nothing is going on between us. We're just... friends."
Jessica snorted. "Friends who eye-fuck each other during lectures?"
"We do not-"
"Alright, alright," she conceded. "I'll drop it. For now."
Just then, the door swung open, and in walked Tom - I mean, Professor Thomas. Damn, he looked good. That navy blazer hugged his shoulders in all the right ways and those slacks... Focus, Sara. This is your professor, not your fuck buddy. Technically, both, but right now, he's definitely in professor mode.
I let my mind wander as he set up his laptop. Those hands, so sure and confident as they plugged in cords, had been all over my body just hours ago. Fuck, Sara, get it together. You're here to learn, not daydream about getting financed in other ways.
To my relief - and slight disappointment - Tom didn't even glance my way as he started the lecture. It was probably for the best. I might have combusted if he'd looked at me with those piercing eyes.
"Alright, class," Tom's voice rang out, all business. "Today we're diving into the exciting world of debt financing. Try to contain your enthusiasm."
A few chuckles rippled through the room. Even as Professor Thomas, Tom had a way of keeping things engaging. I forced myself to focus on his words, not the way his lips moved as he spoke. This was important stuff, after all. My future career depended on understanding this shit, not on how good Tom looked in that blazer.
I scribbled notes furiously, determined to absorb every detail about bonds, term loans, and revolving credit facilities. Once I got into it, it was actually pretty interesting. Who knew debt could be so stimulating?
About halfway through the lecture, Tom's gaze swept over our section. My heart rate picked up, but he didn't linger on me. Smart man.
"Now, who can tell me the main advantages of debt financing over equity financing?" Tom asked, his eyes scanning the room.
I knew this one was cold. My hand shot up, ready to impress him with my knowledge. But to my surprise, Tom's gaze landed on Jessica instead.
"Ah, Ms. Thompson. What are your thoughts?"
I deflated a bit, my hand lowering slowly. What the hell? I was right here, hand raised like an eager beaver. Why'd he pick Jessica?
As Jessica stumbled through an answer about tax deductions and maintaining ownership control, I felt a twinge of... was it jealousy? Don't be ridiculous, Sara. You don't own exclusive rights to answer questions in class.
Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that Tom deliberately avoided calling on me. Was this his way of maintaining our cover? Or was he punishing me for that little stunt I pulled in the car this morning?
I tried to push those thoughts aside and refocus on the lecture. Tom was explaining the concept of leverage when I caught him glancing my way again. This time, our eyes met briefly, electric, before he quickly looked away.
Shit. Even that fleeting eye contact was enough to send a jolt of heat through my body. I shifted in my seat, suddenly very aware of the lacy panties beneath my jeans. Maybe this "sexy under comfy" thing wasn't a good idea.
The rest of the class passed in a blur of financial jargon and stolen glances. By the time Tom wrapped up, my head was swimming with thoughts of debt-to-equity ratios and... other, less academic ratios.
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