Page 94 of Stranger to Love

"Very impressive," Billie murmured near my ear. "You're a fast learner, aren't you?"

For a split second, muscle memory took the wheel. The old Alex—the one hooked on easy charm and shallow validation—switched on. I looked up, a slow, reflexive smirk pulling at my mouth. "I can be," I replied, my voice dropping into a suggestive register.

The moment the words left my lips, I wanted to choke on them. What the fuck was I doing? Yesterday I was tracing Carrie's spine, and now I was falling back into messy, stupid patterns.

Billie's smile widened. "I like the sound of that. Maybe we should continue this—"

“Ms. Davies!”

The voice cracked through the room like a gunshot. I jumped, nearly knocking my laptop off the desk.

Carrie had turned around. She was leaning forward against her desk, her expression perfectly composed, but her eyes were twin lasers locked onto Billie.

"I believe the students in the back row were struggling with the variance calculations," Carrie said, her voice smooth, level, and utterly terrifying. "Since you’re so eager to assist, perhaps you could lend them your expertise? I’d hate for them to fall behind while we’re... optimising our time."

The subtext was deafening: Get away from her.

Billie straightened up, her playful air evaporating. "Of course, Dr. Carter," she said tightly, sparing me one confused look before walking away.

Carrie’s gaze shifted directly to me. For three seconds, the room disappeared. There was only the cold, hard weight of her disappointment. It hurt worse than any lecture she’d ever given me. She held my gaze until I was forced to look down, my face burning with shame.

When the seminar ended, the collective rustle of backpacks felt like a countdown.

"Dr. Carter?" I called out, my voice projecting across the emptying room, halting Billie as she hung around the desk. "Do you have a second? I had a question about the next assignment."

It was a calculated boundary to shut Billie out and signal to Carrie that I was staying for her. Billie’s jaw tightened. "I think I've got everything I need," she said flatly, grabbing her portfolio and heading for the door.

The second the door clicked shut, the silence was deafening. I walked up to the mahogany desk. Carrie was stacking papers, her movements precise and terrifyingly calm.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Carrie stopped. Her fingers tightened around a folder until the cardboard creased. "For which part, Alex?" she asked, her voice dangerously low. "The flirting? The lies? Or the fact that you did it in my classroom, while I was standing right there?"

I didn’t think. I marched to the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it shut until the latch clicked solid. I needed to fix this fast.

"I didn't know what to do, Carrie," I rambled, the desperation bleeding out. "I couldn't exactly tell her to back off in front of the class. I've spent the last hour listening to Mo and Abdul talk about you—about your hair, your trousers—like you're a trophy. I was two seconds away from breaking Mo's jaw. I don't want to give us away, but you have to believe me. Billie is nothing. Last night was the first time I’ve felt anything. Do you really think I’d throw that away for some shallow flirtation?"

I leaned over the desk, my voice cracking. "I'm a messy, defensive idiot who falls back on old habits when I'm scared. But please... don't look at me like I’ve disappointed you. I can't handle that. Not from you."

Carrie stood up slowly, deliberate and commanding. She stepped around the desk until the distance between us vanished and I could feel her body heat.

"You think I’m angry because you were flirting, Alex?" she whispered, her gaze dropping to my shoulder where Billie’s hand had been. "I’m not a jealous schoolgirl. I know exactly who Billie Davies is. I’m angry because you let her touch you. I’m angry because you sat there and allowed her to mark you in my classroom, while I was forced to maintain 'professional distance.'"

She reached out, her fingers hooking firmly into the collar of my shirt, pulling me forward until our faces were inches apart.

"If you ever let another person touch you like that again—especially in my sight—you will find out very quickly exactly how little I care about giving us away. Do I make myself clear?"

My breath hitched. The sheer force of her jealousy was intoxicating. My hands found her waist, pulling her flush against me. "Perfectly," I rasped. "I’m yours, Carrie. Only yours."

Her expression softened a fraction. She let out a shaky breath, her forehead dropping against mine. "Good girl," she murmured.

Then, her hands shifted, firmly putting a few inches of air back between us.

"Go," she said, her voice regaining its crisp, academic edge. "There will be another class in here in ten minutes, and I have no intention of giving the board a reason to look at the CCTV."

I reluctantly let my hands slide off her waist, but she hitched my collar one last time, her thumb grazing the side of my neck.

"And Alex? I wasn't joking. I don't share. Not even a glance, and certainly not a touch. If you decide to push me—if you decide to act like a brat and test those boundaries just to see what happens—I will be forced to punish you. And believe me, darling, you won't find that experience quite as charming as my seminars."