Page 85 of Stranger to Love

As the lecture hall doors swung shut behind us, the click of the lock echoing in my mind, I felt like I had just walked out of one fire and straight into another. Billie started talking about the coursework, her voice light and cheerful, but I couldn’t hear a word of it. All I could see was that dark red dress and the way Dr. Carter’s hands had shaken when she thought I wasn't looking.

We reached the door to her office, and Billie paused, the key already in the lock. She turned to face me, her back against the wood, looking at me through her lashes with that shy, inviting smile.

"So," she murmured, her voice losing its professional edge. "Do you actually want to come in? Or are you too busy for 'coursework'?"

I felt the weight of Dr. Carter’s ghost lingering on my skin, but I fucking shoved it down. I forced a smirk to my lips—the old Alex, the one who didn't get her heart broken by professors in red dresses. This is who you are, I told myself. You went with Blondie for a reason, and it sure as hell wasn't to discuss market trends and supply chains.

"I think I can make the time," I said, my voice dropping into that low, suggestive hum that usually got me exactly what I wanted. Because, this was what I wanted, right?

I leaned one hand against the doorframe, effectively pinning her in. Billie’s breath hitched, and I saw her pupils dilate. This was the game. This was the easy part. No heavy silences, no "deadly" glimmers in dark brown eyes, no complicated morning-afters. Just a pretty blonde woman who wanted me, and the familiar thrill of the chase. This was who I fucking was.

"Good," she whispered.

She turned the key and pushed the door open, stepping backward into the small, dimly lit office and beckoning me with a look that said she knew exactly what was about to happen. I followed her inside, the click of the door closing behind me feeling like a definitive line in the sand.

I was done with the fucking high-stakes drama. I was done with the woman who had treated me like a stranger after sharing her bed. I reached out, catching Billie by the waist and pulling her flush against me the second the lock snapped into place.

"Now," I murmured, my lips hovering just above hers. "About that coursework..."

Billie didn't hesitate. She laced her fingers through my hair, her touch light and eager, and pulled me into a kiss that tasted like strawberry gloss and uncomplicated desire. I met her hungrily, a desperate edge to my movements as I tried to force my brain to switch off. I fucking needed this. I needed this easy rhythm. I needed Billie’s softness to drown out the memory of Dr. Carter’s sharp edges.

My hands glided down her back, mapping the curves of her waist and gripping her hips, pulling her flush against me. Billie let out a shaky breath into my mouth, her kiss deepening, becoming more frantic as she felt the intensity I was putting into it. I lifted her slightly, hoisting her up until she was pressed firmly against the office door. The wood thudded behind her, and Billie groaned, her nails digging into the meat of my waist.

Focus. Just fucking focus on this.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to let the heat of the moment consume me, but the darkness behind my eyelids was a traitor. Every time I blinked, I saw Dr. Carter’s face in that lecture hall—the raw, fractured look of betrayal she hadn't had time to hide.

I tore my mouth away from Billie’s, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I found that sensitive spot right below her ear, the one I knew made her lose her fucking mind. I nipped at her skin, and Billie let out a high, sharp moan that echoed in the small office.

In a flash, my mind fucking betrayed me.

That sound—that high, desperate note—instantly morphed in my head. Suddenly, it wasn't Billie beneath me. It was the sound of Dr. Carter’s voice on her deep sofa, muffled against my shoulder. It was the way she had moaned my name when she had finally let her guard down.

I froze, my lips still pressed to Billie’s skin. The arousal was there, but the hollow ache in my chest was louder. I was holding one woman, but I was haunting myself with another. Fuck. Fucking shit.

I tried to force it. I got more reckless, my movements becoming rapid and almost forceful as I hunted for the release that would finally quiet my brain. I needed to feel something—anything—that wasn't this crushing weight of regret.

Billie gasped, her head tossing back against the door as she caught my rhythm. She moaned eagerly, her hands digging into my shoulders, urging me on. To her, this was probably the most intense we’d ever been. She thought I was overwhelmed by her, that I was so desperate for her that I couldn’t bear to slow down.

But inside, I was fucking screaming.

The more she moaned, the more the mental image of Dr. Carter in that red dress burned behind my eyelids. I saw the way she gripped that podium. I saw the way she looked at the space between me and Billie—not with the coldness of a professor, but with the agony of a woman who had just let her guard down for the first time in years, only to have it fucking thrown back in her face.

Every time Billie’s skin brushed mine, my mind did a sickening comparison. It wasn’t the same scent. It wasn’t the same heat. It wasn’t the woman who stayed.

"Shit," I groaned, the word more of a pained curse than an expression of pleasure.

I stopped abruptly, my forehead dropping onto Billie's shoulder. My chest was heaving, and I was shaking, but not from arousal. I was shaking from the sheer, exhausting effort of trying to pretend I didn't care about a woman who was currently sitting a building away, probably fucking hating me.

Billie’s hands stayed on my back, her breathing ragged and confused. "Alex?" she whispered, her voice laced with concern. "What’s wrong? Are you okay?"

I stayed there for a second, my eyes squeezed shut against her neck. I couldn't do this. I couldn’t fucking do this. I thought I could go back to being the woman who just took what she wanted and left, but that woman had died somewhere between Saturday night, a Sunday movie, and a Monday morning goodbye.

I pulled back, feeling like a fucking arsehole. I struggled to steady my breathing, my grip on Billie’s waist softening until I was barely touching her. I gently combed my fingers through her hair, tucking a stray lock behind her ear as I whispered, "I’m sorry, but I have to go."

Billie blinked up at me, her chest still heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "What? Oh—what?"

I closed my eyes and leaned in, kissing her softly. It was a gentle, lingering press of my lips, but it was more of an apology than an act of passion. She softened into me, and I felt fucking awful. I pulled back again and whispered, "I'm sorry, I just... I really need to leave." I checked my watch. If I moved then, I might catch Dr. Carter in her office before she locked herself away for the rest of the afternoon.