Page 93 of Stranger to Love

"Your mother should be proud," she had said. "It’s well-cared for."

I just sat there, my mouth opening and closing like an idiot. This woman robbed me of the sharp comebacks that used to come so easily.

Before I got out, she leaned across the centre console, anchoring me with a slow kiss. "You should be proud of where you come from, Alex. You work hard and you have parents who love you. That is more than enough." Then, her tone darkened beautifully. "Go home before I decide to steal you for myself. I don't like to share, darling. You're such a good girl, Alex. I think I’m going to very much enjoy you being mine."

That feeling was still singing in my blood. The only thing that finally made me throw back the duvet was the realisation that I got to see her today.

The morning seminars passed in a total blur. By the time I walked into the Economics room, she was already there, and it was physically painful to look away.

She was wearing high-waisted tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the forearms I now knew were strong enough to pin me down. Her hair was down—soft waves falling over her shoulders, making her look younger, softer, yet somehow even more commanding.

I sat across from Mo and Abdul, who were sharing sleazy glances toward the front of the room. I felt a sudden, violent urge to slap them both.

"Wow, what the hell happened to Dr. Carter today?" Holly practically shouted, sliding into the seat next to me.

"Right? She looks hot," Mo grinned.

"Must be the hair," Abdul added, chuckling. "Normally she looks bloody terrifying. Today... I’d definitely risk a detention for a piece of that."

I gripped my pen so hard that the plastic groaned. I’d never been a jealous person in my life, but right then, I wanted everyone in that room to stop looking at her.

Dr. Carter stood at the front, her voice steady and clinical as she explained a statistical variance exercise. Hearing her talk about regression models in the same low, smooth voice that had been whispering good girl into my ear twelve hours ago was enough to make my brain short-circuit.

She spared a lightning-fast glance at our table. My jaw was tight, practically radiating heat. When she made her circuit to hand out the exercise sheets, she stopped at our desk.

"Hair looks good today, Dr. Carter," Mo said, his tone dripping with the confidence of an utter prick. "Really suits you."

Abdul snorted. I white-knuckled the edge of the table, wanting to bury my fist in his mouth. That’s my fucking woman, I wanted to scream.

Carrie didn't flinch. She looked down at Mo, her eyes turning into shards of ice, and dropped the papers with a sharp thud. "Mr. Malik," she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "If you put half as much effort into your understanding of probability as you do into your unsolicited observations of my appearance, you might actually manage to pass this module with something higher than a forty-three percent.”

Mo’s grin faltered instantly. She turned her gaze to me for a fraction of a second, and I caught the tiniest, invisible spark of amusement meant only for me.

"Start the exercise," she commanded the table. As she walked away, her hand brushed against my shoulder. The heat seared right through my jacket.

I was trying to focus on the marginal cost curves, but Mo was still whispering to Abdul: "Maybe it is just the hair, but fuck, she looks good in those trousers too. You see the way they fit her—"

"Mo, if you don't shut the fuck up, I’m going to tell her exactly what you're saying so she can fail you herself," I snapped in a low hiss.

Before he could respond, the door swung open. My heart did a sickening drop.

Billie.

She looked annoyingly good in a pencil skirt, her messy blonde hair radiating effortless confidence. She walked straight to the front desk to confer with Carrie over her laptop. A sharp pang of guilt hit my stomach. The last time I had seen Billie was yesterday, pinned against her office door, breathless—and I had just vanished because I realised I only wanted Dr. Carter.

As they talked, Billie’s gaze wandered until her eyes landed on mine. A slow, knowing smirk spread across her face, and she gave me a deliberate, lingering wink.

Oh, shit. I looked away so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

"Did Ms. Davies just wink at you?" Holly whispered.

"No," I muttered. "Don't be weird."

Billie left the front desk and started circulating the room like a shark. When she reached our table, she checked Holly's work, getting closer until she was practically in my space. I risked a glance at the front. Carrie had her back to us, entirely absorbed in her phone, presenting a wall of professional indifference. But I knew better.

"How are you getting on, Alex?" Billie’s silky voice dropped over my shoulder. She placed her arm along the back of my chair, leaning in so close her blonde hair brushed my arm. I could smell her citrus perfume, contrasting sharply with Carrie's deep floral scent.

As she scanned my answers, her fingers began to trace slow, deliberate circles on my back. My skin prickled with danger.