Page 154 of Stranger to Love

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak," she interrupted, turning around slowly. Her eyes were no longer professional; they were dark, predatory, and fixed entirely on the arm Billie had just touched. "Come here. Now."

I was bracing myself for the impact of her anger, but when Carrie moved, it wasn't with the sharp, clinical steel I had expected. Instead, she reached out and softly glided her hand down the length of my arm—tracing the exact path Billie’s fingers had just taken. Her touch was a balm, an intentional erasure of the lingering friction Billie had left behind.

She stepped into my space, cupping my face with both hands, and kissed me. Thank fuck. It wasn’t a claim or a punishment; it was soft, lingering, and uncharacteristically tender.

"I was right there, baby," she whispered against my lips, her voice unravelling with a rare, raw honesty. "I should have thrown her across the room. I am so sorry she put her hands on you like that."

I was completely fucking thrown. The adrenaline that was ready for a fight or a lecture suddenly had nowhere to go. I was prepared for the maddened version of Carrie—the one who marked me, commanded me and locked doors—but this vulnerability was even more overwhelming.

"No, Carrie, don't—you don't have to apologise," I said instantly, my hands finding her waist, pulling her closer. "It wasn't your fault. I didn't want it. I felt sick the second she did it. I’m yours, only yours."

Carrie let out a long, shuddering breath, burying her face in the crook of my neck, right over the dark mark she had left there. She held me with a desperate, crushing tightness, her fingers digging into my back. What the fuck, I wasn’t expecting this.

"I know," she hummed, her voice muffled against my skin. She stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing me in, before she pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. "I know you didn't want it. I trust you, Alex. This isn't about you doing anything wrong. It's about her... and it's about how much I loathe the idea of anyone else thinking they have a right to even a centimetre of your skin."

She stroked my cheek, her thumb tracing my lower lip. "But you have a seminar with her this afternoon. And since I can't be in the room to guard you, I think we need to make sure you’re wearing something of mine. Something she can’t see, but you can feel."

"Baby, look at me," I whispered, tilting my head back to fully expose the side of my throat. "Your mark is right here. It’s the only thing I want on my skin. I don’t want her, Carrie. I don’t want anyone else."

Carrie’s gaze dropped to the bruise, the dark, violent bloom she had worked so fucking hard to perfect. She reached out, her thumb grazing the centre of it with a reverence that bordered on desperation. She nodded slowly, finally accepting the claim, but the mask of the formidable Dr. Carter hadn't just slipped—it had shattered.

For the first time, I saw the actual raw vulnerability behind the dominance. There was a ghost in her eyes, a flicker of an old, deep-seated pain that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with whatever or whoever the fuck had come before.

My stomach did a slow, sickening churn. I had always known Carrie’s possessiveness was intense, but seeing this... it made me realise that her territorial streak wasn't just about ego. It was a defence mechanism. I wondered how many times she had been the one left behind. How many times had she watched someone she loved be lured away, or worse, had them choose a "safer" or "easier" option right under her nose?

The thought of someone hurting her, of someone cheating on her and turning that brilliant, sharp mind into a wreckage of insecurity, made me want to burn the whole fucking world down.

"Carrie," I breathed, my voice cracking as I wrapped my arms around her neck, pulling her forehead against mine. "I'm not going anywhere. I’m not like the others. You haven't lost me."

She stiffened for a second at the word others, a sharp intake of breath hitching in her chest. She didn't deny it. She just closed her eyes and leaned into me, her hands gripping my waist so tightly it would probably leave fresh fucking marks by tonight.

“Don't make me a liar, Alex," she whispered, her voice sounding smaller than I had ever heard it. "Because if you ever let her truly touch you... it won't just be your heart that breaks. I think I might actually lose my mind.”

I looked at Carrie, and for a heartbeat, the air in the office felt thick with something heavier than desire. The words were right there, hovering at the back of my throat, ready to spill out—the three words that scared the absolute fucking shit out of me. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to anchor her to me so she never had to feel that hollow vulnerability again.

But I caught myself. I hesitated.

If I was going to say it, if I was going to give her that kind of power, it shouldn't be here. Not in a fucking frantic, panicked moment in her office while I was still reeling from Billie’s touch. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted her to know it was a choice, not a reaction to her fear.

I took a deep breath, forcing my heart to slow its frantic rhythm. Instead of speaking, I leaned in and kissed her—a soft, grounding press of my lips against hers that tasted of promise. When I pulled back, I forced a smirk onto my face, watching as the sharp edges of her tension started to blur.

"Besides," I murmured, my voice catching that playful edge she loved, "why on earth would I look at anyone else when I have a sexy supervillain keeping me trapped in her lair?"

Carrie’s eyebrows quirked up, a ghost of her usual haughty smile returning to her lips. The "Dr. Carter" mask was sliding back into place, but a new warmth sparkled behind it—a glint of genuine amusement replacing the icy dread from the hallway.

"A supervillain, is it?" she mused, her hands sliding down to rest possessively on my hips. "Careful, Alex. Flattery might buy you my good mood, but it won't get you out of your reading list."

"I think I can handle a few books," I said, leaning in to nip lightly at her lower lip. "As long as you're the one testing me on them."

She hummed, the vibration familiar and comforting. "Oh, I’ll be testing you, princess. In ways you haven't even prepared for yet. Now, go. I have my office hours and if Billie doesn’t see you in that seminar, she’ll have more reason to pay you attention, and we both know how much I despise that."

“Carrie, I…”

The words hung in the air like a physical weight. What the hell was I doing? I could feel my pulse thudding in my ears as my eyes widened. For a split second, I was terrified I had just tipped the hand I wasn’t ready to play.

Thankfully, Carrie just smirked, clearly expecting me to finish with some clever fucking bit of banter. I seized the lifeline, leaning in until my lips were brushing against hers. “I look forward to your lecture this afternoon,” I whispered, my voice thick with a promise that had nothing to do with academics.

Carrie let out a soft, dark chuckle. "Of course you do."