Page 50 of Stranger to Love

Chapter 12

Alex

“I’ll stay,” I muttered mockingly to myself, staring right at my reflection in the ensuite mirror of Dr. Carter's guest room.

What the fuck am I doing. I never stay. I guess this is different, because I normally end up at some woman’s place when we’re fucking, not when my lecturer has cleaned me up after some prick threw me into a wall. Again.

I heard the bedroom door open, and steeling myself, I took a deep breath before stepping back into the bedroom. Dr. Carter stood there, placing what looked like some pyjamas on the neat bed. This place was huge. I was pretty sure this bedroom was larger than my parents’ kitchen and living room combined. Everything looked to have a place and like it had been designed by some interior designer, all sharp edges, and yet somehow still feeling comfortable. A hue of dark blues and greens swept across the room like the dawn of a long day.

It felt surreal being in her space. Sure, it was her guest room, but it was still her sanctuary. It was her kitchen she’d just cleaned me up in, and I was loving and hating every single second of it.

Because fuck, she looked incredible in that form-sculpting dress. Beyond that, she was being... almost intimate. Not cold, aloof, or terrifying the way she usually tried to project. Maybe because we were behind closed doors, this was her stripped-back, off-duty self.

Maybe that was the real reason I’d agreed to stay.

She gestured to the clothes on the bed. "I assumed you wouldn’t want to sleep in your uniform.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile, walking over and running my palms over the soft silk of the pyjamas that were probably worth more than my monthly wages.

“Get changed, I will get you some water, and then you need to sleep,” she said dismissively, turning to leave the room.

“Yes, ma’am.” I mock saluted her behind her back.

She stopped walking and turned back briefly just to glare at me before she left. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh, because somehow she was still intimidating, but the lack of heels added a softer layer she must have hated right then.

I changed quickly, slipping into the pyjamas. The fabric felt like pure sin against my skin—weightless, heavy-draped silk that practically screamed money, gliding over my limbs without a single rough edge. They were so fucking comfy. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to stay alert, but fuck me, my head was pounding. I actually couldn't wait to crawl into this bed; it felt like a fucking cloud.

Dr. Carter walked back in and placed a bottle of water and a strip of paracetamol on the side table next to me. I sighed gratefully and popped a couple out, immediately swigging them down with a mouthful of cold water. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said simply. Without warning, she surprised me by sitting down next to me. The mattress dipped, and I waited a beat before looking at her, trying not to seem too fucking desperate in some way or make her flee like a little bird from a sharp noise.

When I turned my face towards her, hers was soft and searching. “Is there anything else you need?”

I smiled softly. “No, thanks. Honestly, you have done way too much already for me tonight."

She just rolled her eyes at that, clearly somehow disagreeing. She wiped her hands down her dress, and something clicked in my mind. “Oh shit—I mean, sorry—wait, were you out tonight?” I groaned. Fuck, did she get the text whilst she was out with someone and came to my fucking rescue?

She narrowed her eyes at me. “No.”

“No?” I was genuinely fucking confused. She just looked like this at home alone? Who was this woman? I bit my lip, trying not to laugh, because this was just too fucking weird.

She tilted her head at me and shook it before saying, “If I didn’t know better, I would assume you had a brain bleed.”

That made me laugh. The whole fucking situation rushing across my mind: My birthday. She bought me a fucking laptop. That knobhead came back to the club and threw me against a wall. Dr. Carter came to pick me up and took me home to look after me whilst looking like a fucking assassin, and then we were just sitting on her guest bed talking like this was somehow fucking normal. When I looked at her again, the laugh deepened as she was staring at me like I was fucking crazy, and maybe I was. Eventually I controlled myself, but I weirdly needed that. Even though it made my head hurt more, it felt like a nice release. I groaned as I massaged the side of my head. Fuck, I just wanted to sleep.

Dr. Carter reached out and swept my hair away from my face as she gently turned my head back to look at her. I couldn't fucking breathe when she was soft like this. “I will come back early morning to check on you. I won’t wake you up if you’re still asleep, but I would prefer you didn't die of a concussion in my house.”

I smirked, trying not to laugh again. “It would be really awkward if I did.”

“It would,” she agreed with a smirk, her hand still combing through my hair, making my chest flutter.

“Were you really not out tonight?" I asked again as my eyes swept over her.

“No, why?” She raised an eyebrow at me.

Without thinking, I answered, "Because you look amazing. I just assumed you were out with someone.”

Her hand stilled in my hair for a moment, a look of vulnerability on her face catching me off guard before she quickly masked it and ran her fingers through my hair one last time before pulling her hand away and standing.