Page 70 of Stranger to Love

The absolute command stopped me dead. I froze, my chest heaving, my eyes glazed over with desperation as I looked down at her.

“But... you said we had time,” I rasped.

Dr. Carter placed her hands on my shoulders, pushing me back just enough to look me in the eye. That triumphant, knowing smirk was back. “We have time, darling. But I also said we were in no rush. If we go past this point now, you won won’t be getting any sleep, and I need you rested.”

The promise—and the threat—vibrated through me. I groaned in total defeat, letting my forehead drop against her shoulder. “That’s cruel.”

She chuckled, a rich sound against my cheek. “I prefer disciplined, Alex. Now, off.”

She gave my hips a gentle nudge, and I slid off her lap, instantly missing her warmth. She stood, smoothing her silk shirt with infuriating ease.

“Change into the nightgown, drink your water, and get some rest,” she instructed, her voice softening. “Good night, Alex. I expect to see you bright and early in the kitchen.”

She turned, pulling the door closed with a quiet click, and left.

I stood there for a full minute, shaking my head in disbelief, before looking down at the silky black nightgown on the bed.

Fine, Dr. Carter. You want discipline? I’ll give you fucking discipline. I snatched the gown, determined to be the most obedient student she’d ever had.

***

Okay, I wasn't usually not the nightgown type, but fuck me—this thing was comfortable.

It felt outrageously expensive, like sliding against silk-covered air every time I moved on the mattress. I sprawled out on my back, stretching my limbs into the quiet morning heat of the room. My phone screen read just past 8:00 a.m. I’d only managed about six hours of sleep, yet I felt completely, inexplicably rested.

A soft knock tapped against the door, and before I could even sit up, it swung open.

Fuck me.

Dr. Carter stood in the doorway. Her hair was down, her face entirely free of makeup, and she wore a dark red silk nightgown that clung directly to her curves. My jaw dropped. My eyes scanned down the long, toned lines of her legs, trailing back up her torso, taking every inch in. She wasn't wearing a bra. The soft silk left her nipples distinctly outlined, and my breathing hitched. What a phenomenal way to wake up.

Dr. Carter cleared her throat, a smirk playing on her lips as my eyes snapped back up to hers. “Did you sleep well?”

Completely untrusting of my voice, I only nodded. She stepped fully into the room, sitting on the edge of the mattress beside me. Her fingers combed gently through my tangled hair. “I’m surprised you were awake, darling.”

“Me too,” I muttered, my voice still thick with sleep.

She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. My heart did a sudden flip, but she pulled back before I could chase the contact, smiling at the instant scowl of disappointment on my face.

Her hand drifted down from my hair, tracing the silk neckline of the gown. “You look good in this.”

“I do?” I arched an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly my usual style.”

“Perhaps not. But yes.” She leaned in closer, her lips brushing my cheek. “You look incredible.”

I closed my eyes, melting a little as her mouth pressed softly against my skin. Her hand settled on my waist, her thumb sweeping distracting circles over the fabric.

I was wide fucking awake then.

How the hell did she look like that in the morning? And shit—she should never wear makeup. Her lashes were naturally dark and full, framing her eyes in a way that made them look commanding, dangerous even. But standing that close, I could see the softness hidden in the green flecks of her irises. Her pale skin practically glowed in the morning light, balancing the sharp, elegant lines of her jaw with the surprisingly soft curve of her cheeks.

“You're so beautiful.” The words just slipped from my lips, quietly, as if I didn’t mean to say them out loud, and fuck, I wasn't sure I did.

The small smile on her lips deepened into a flash of genuine, unmasked pleasure. She didn't offer a standard deflection; she simply watched me, her gaze intense and appreciative of the vulnerability.

Her hand on my waist tightened, hauling me closer until we were flush—silk sliding against silk, her body heat transferring through the thin material.

“That’s an observation, Alex,” she murmured, her voice husky and entirely stripped of her professorial persona. “A very welcome one.”