Page 66 of Stranger to Love

Come on, Alex. Get a fucking grip.

Mia nudged my hip with hers and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. “See you tomorrow,” she whispered, throwing me a wink before turning to walk away.

I barely managed a mumbled reply, my feet moving automatically as I crossed the street toward Dr. Carter.

You can do this.

I walked up to her, too close, slowly though—enough for her to straighten up or put a gap between us. When all she did was tilt her head, watching me amusedly, I stepped toe-to-toe with her, placing my hands flat on the car on either side of her hips, not touching her but fucking close.

She smirked then, still in the same posture, not even leaning slightly away. She asked, amused, "Have you been drinking?”

“Nope.”

She raised an eyebrow at me and slowly uncrossed her arms. She then glided her hands up my arms, maintaining eye contact up until her hands moved up to undo my ponytail. My heart was beating so fucking fast. I was trying to clear my head, to forget the days of silence from her, because it was obviously all just one big game to that woman. Fine. I’d play. Because this, this adrenaline rush of never quite knowing what she was going to do next, was making it fucking worth it. Shit.

She gently combed her fingers through my hair as it dropped down, and to my fucking delight, began raking her nails across my scalp with one hand settled at the base of my neck, massaging the tension. Fuck, it felt good.

“How was your shift, darling?” she asked as her hands continued their magic.

I blinked my eyes open; I hadn’t even realised that I had closed them. I swallowed dryly, my throat tight. “Full of drunks, but no bruises, so can’t complain.”

Her lip twitched in the way I knew meant that she wanted to smile. She pulled her hands back and held out my hair bobble to me. I took it without thinking, slipping it onto my wrist. Fuck, I missed her hands. She stood up straighter then, which automatically made me pull away. She nodded her head towards the car, and I obeyed without thinking about it. All of this. When she was actually in front of me, I didn’t think about it, I just acted. It was so fucking terrifying to me.

I walked to the passenger side, and as always, she opened the door for me. I slid in, throwing my bag at my feet as she closed the door and began her routine. Trench coat off, hung up in the back of the car, and she slid into the driver's side. And, as always, I gawked at her, because fuck, she looked good—a dark green silky blouse tucked into tailored trousers. Her eyes flickered to me before she turned the car on, and we began to move.

We’d been going for a few minutes, silence filling the car. Her hands were relaxed as she held the wheel with her sleeves rolled up. I was mesmerised by the subtle muscle movements in her forearms as she turned the wheel.

Time to be a brat, I guess. I bit my lip before I reached out and pressed a random button on the dashboard. To my utter delight, the interior lighting changed colour; the car was now lit up a racing red instead of the soft, warm lighting from before. Her face tensed instantly. Without saying anything to me, she pressed the button again, switching it back to warm light.

My stomach did a flip. She was holding onto that control and not even berating me. So I pressed it again, because of course I fucking did. The red light filled the car again, and I tried not to laugh as she exhaled through her nose, pressing it back again.

It was becoming like a fucking club in there then, with us turning the lights back and forth, neither of us saying a word. I watched her. Her jaw was taut and her eyes were glued to the road as if if she looked away she would fucking murder me. The red lights shone in her dark eyes, and I swore her deep brown absorbed the red like a devil.

I pressed it for the fifth time and absolutely shit myself as she turned a corner abruptly and pulled up on a side street. The sudden stop threw my body forward against the seatbelt, and the silence that followed was deafening, thick with the smell of expensive leather and hot, controlled fury. The red light was still burning in the car, illuminating the sharp, angry angles of her face.

Fuck. Okay, so maybe five times was her limit.

She got out of the car, and I watched her, my heart pounding as she glided around the car to my door. I quickly looked around. It was one of the high streets, practically abandoned at that time of night, which didn’t ease my nerves right then. She opened my door, her movements calm, terrifyingly calm, but her face looked livid.

“Out,” she commanded.

Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked this.

Unclipping my seatbelt, I slowly stood up, leaving my bag behind—hoping like hell she wasn’t actually kicking me out, but rather testing me somehow.

When I straightened up to face her, she shut the car door with deliberate slowness and stepped into my space. With a soft push against my ribs, her hand forced me back against the cold frame of the vehicle. Her touch was excruciatingly gentle as her fingers traced up the line of my ribs, stealing the air right out of my lungs. Her fingertip glided over the swell of my breast without lingering. I stared at her wide-eyed, waiting for her to say something—fucking anything—but she stayed dead silent.

The winter chill and cold metal sank deep into my skin, but the heat radiating from her body was all I could focus on. Her fingers scratched lightly up my neck, and I swore I was going to pass out.

Her free hand, which had been hanging at her side, moved as she tilted her head in quiet contemplation. I didn't care what she was thinking; I just froze, doing everything in my power not to move an inch. The hand at my throat shifted to the back of my neck, gripping firmly while her other hand roamed up my chest to undo the next button of my shirt.

Fuck.

My eyes flicked around in a sudden spike of panic. The street was empty and dark, the shop fronts locked up, with barely any parked cars in sight. When I looked back at her, a slight smirk played on her lips, catching my anxiety. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d done something like that in public, but I’d never been fucking sober for it. She raised an eyebrow, undoing the next button, but I just focused on breathing, refusing to back down from that weird fucking standoff.

She pressed closer, untucking my black work shirt. Her cold fingers slid across my stomach to undo the final button, and I just let it fucking happen. Opening the shirt, her hand glided up to reveal my black sports bra. My heart hammered against my ribs, my hands balled into tight fists at my sides. I desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, but her gaze kept me pinned to the car.

A hitch caught in my throat as she gripped my waist, dipping her head to press hard, precise kisses down my neck. My head hit the car with a thud. Fuck. Her grip on the back of my neck stayed steady, her thumb tracing distracting circles against my pulsing vein. She hadn't said a word, and I was completely undone.