Page 97 of Stranger to Love

That snapped me out of my trance. “Wait, no. I’m not being your fucking third wheel again, Mia. Or even worse, the fourth wheel to some random guy Adrian brings along. Not happening.”

Carrie’s jaw tightened slightly at my swearing, but technically I wasn't swearing at her, so I thought I was in the clear. Her eyes narrowed as I assumed her mind also flashed back to the last time I went out with them—the night that prick thought he had a chance with me and Carrie had to stake her claim. I bit my lip at the memory, our eyes locking as her smirk turned sharp.

“Come on, Lex! I promise there won’t be any guys within arm's length of you. I even promise not to be all over Adrian. I'll help wingwoman you with the hot women in the room. Come on, you can pick one to fuck and compare them to Dr. Vixen. It’ll be fun!”

Mia had no idea what kind of death trap she had just built for me. Carrie looked fucking terrifying. Her nails were literally digging into the edge of her own marble counter, and I felt a sudden, primitive urge to run for my life, even though I hadn't said a word. Oh shit—I hadn’t said anything yet.

“Mia, that’s not happening,” I stammered out, my voice high and frantic.

Carrie tilted her head at me. It wasn't exactly the most reassuring response, but it was all I had while my brain was short-circuiting.

Mia went quiet for a second. “The fuck do you mean that’s not happening?”

I shook my head, even though she couldn't see me. “Mia, I’m not going.”

“Come on, Lex! We’ll go to Carlos. It’s full of hot older women!”

I closed my eyes, the ghost of a prayer hitting my lips. For fuck's sake, Mia. She wasn't trying to get me a one night stand; she was actively trying to get me murdered. I tried to stammer a response, my brain a chaotic mess of stop fucking talking, Mia and oh shit, she’s coming this way. Carrie began to move, and she didn’t just walk; she stalked around the kitchen island with the predatory grace of something that had decided its prey had nowhere left to run.

"Oh, come on, Lex!" Mia’s voice was still chirping through the receiver, oblivious to the fact that she was currently narrating my funeral. "They have two-for-one cocktails until midnight. Think of the margaritas! Think of the divorcees in silk blouses!"

Carrie reached me, the scent of her perfume hitting me like a physical blow. Before I could get another word out, she leaned down, her eyes locked onto mine, and effortlessly plucked the phone right out of my hand.

I froze. Shit. My heart wasn't even beating anymore; it was just vibrating in my throat.

"Hello, Mia," Carrie said into the phone. Her voice was a masterpiece of icy, professional calm that could flash-freeze a lake.

The silence on the other end of the line was instantaneous. I could practically hear Mia’s fucking soul leaving her body as she realised who had just intercepted the call.

"D-Dr. Carter?" Mia stammered, her "bad bitch" energy evaporating so fast it left a vacuum.

Carrie didn't answer her. Instead, she reached out, her hand creeping up the side of my neck. Her thumb rested right over my pulse point, feeling the frantic, erratic thud of my heart. Her touch was firm, possessive, and warm, sending a jolt of electricity straight down my spine.

"I couldn't help but overhear your plans for tomorrow," Carrie continued, her gaze never leaving my face. Her eyes were dark, shimmering with that lethal promise from earlier. "I thought it best to clarify that Alex will not be 'on the prowl' tomorrow night. Or any other night, for that matter."

I swallowed hard, my eyes wide. I was pretty sure I was forgetting how to breathe. Fuck me.

"Oh... right. Yeah. No. Of course," Mia fumbled, sounding like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "I just—I didn't realise—"

"However," Carrie interrupted, her smirk returning as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against my cheek. To my absolute shock, her voice softened just a fraction. "I do find myself in the mood for a drink. So, Alex and I will be joining you at Carlos tomorrow. I trust that won't be an issue?"

Wait, what? Fuck. I thought I actually stopped functioning. She was going out with us? To Carlos? In front of everyone?

"N-no! No issue! That would be... great? Terrifying? Both?" Mia was spiralling.

"Excellent," Carrie said, her thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle against my skin—a silent reminder of exactly who I belonged to. "We'll see you then. Goodnight, Mia."

Without waiting for a response, Carrie tapped the screen to hang up and tossed my phone onto the island behind her. She didn't move away. She stayed right there, boxed in between my knees, her hand still holding my neck, her presence absolute.

"Vixen?" she whispered, the corner of her mouth twitching. "We really need to work on your friends' vocabulary, Alex."

The tension in the kitchen was so thick it was a wonder I could even draw air into my lungs. My pulse was still thrumming against the spot where her thumb had just been.

"You’re so damn hot," I breathed out, the words escaping me before I could even think to filter them.

Carrie didn't look surprised; if anything, she looked like she was exactly where she wanted to be. She let out a soft, humming laugh and finally—fucking mercifully—winked at me. It was a gesture so unexpectedly playful and confident it made my head spin. She stepped back, breaking the spell of our closeness, and turned her attention back to the stove.

"I’m aware," she said simply, her tone light but trailing with heat. She fucking should be.