Chapter 9 #3
I smirked, leaning in and brazenly nudging her elbow with my own. “A woman can be many things, Dr. Carter. I, of course, happen to be both highly intelligent and simply... colourful when it comes to my vocabulary.”
She let out a quiet scoff, but to my absolute shock, she didn't pull away from the physical contact. A win. That was a definitive, monumental win.
In an instant, the woman in the white blouse vanished from my mind entirely. I shifted more fully toward Dr. Carter, planting my elbow on the wooden bar and resting my chin in my hand. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“And why is that?” She eyed me out of the corner of her vision.
I smirked. “You don’t exactly strike me as the social type.”
“I am not,” she replied dryly.
I laughed. “So, why are you here?”
“Well, I was minding my own business,” she said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, low register as she narrowed her eyes at me. “And then an incredibly annoying student decided to sit next to me.”
I smirked, my voice dropping an octave. “Liar.”
Dr. Carter tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “Excuse me?”
“You bought me a drink. You weren't minding your own business at all.” I leaned a fraction closer, my chest tightening. “In fact, you were actively inserting yourself into mine.”
I had absolutely no idea where this sudden audacity was coming from, but I was riding the wave.
I was going to assume this wasn’t her first whiskey of the night because, in a way that made my entire chest flutter, she didn’t pull back.
Fuck. Did I actually stand a chance, or was she just playing some twisted, hyper-intelligent game for her own amusement?
Honestly, I was more than happy to play by whatever fucked-up rules she wanted if it kept her this close to me.
Before she could reply, her eyes flashed past my shoulder.
Her posture instantly turned rigid, her shoulders squaring defensively.
I turned around, a wave of pure, unfiltered rage washing over me as I saw Ali approaching the bar.
This fucking guy could not take a hint. He walked up, that slimy grin plastered across his face as if he’d been personally invited.
“You were taking a while,” Ali said, stepping into my space. “I’ve been missing your company.”
Urgh. He must have had a profoundly warped perception of reality if he thought my hostile silence in that booth counted as good company.
I reluctantly turned to face him, glancing back toward the lounge; Mia and Adrian were entirely wrapped up in each other, completely oblivious.
I was officially going to murder her tomorrow.
“Maybe you should head onto the dance floor, Ali,” I offered, trying desperately to remain civil instead of screaming at him to fuck off. “There are plenty of women out there tonight. You might actually catch someone’s eye.”
He chuckled arrogantly, looking at me as if I’d just handed him a perfect chat-up line. “I only have my eye on one woman tonight.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, desperately trying to keep my temper in check for Mia’s sake. If this guy was Adrian’s best mate, I couldn't be the reason her relationship blew up. But absolutely, fuck no. I shook my head flatly. “Look, mate. I think you've got the wrong idea.”
He smirked, stepping closer, entirely convinced I was playing hard to get. “Oh, come on. You knew you were meeting me tonight, and you dressed like that.”
The words made my blood boil. The confidence I’d felt in the mirror this evening—the desire to just feel good about myself—shattered. Nothing to do with you, you narcissistic prick.
Before I could open my mouth to absolutely destroy him, I jolted.
A heavy, incredibly strong hand settled protectively around my waist, her fingers gripping my side with an intense, unyielding firmness.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Dr. Carter.
Her toned arm had wrapped completely around my waist, pulling my back flush against her front. I thought I might actually faint.
Ali cocked his head, his smirk faltering slightly as he offered her a hand. “Ali. You must be a friend of Alex’s.”
Seriously dude, who the fuck do you think you are?
I felt Dr. Carter’s entire body stiffen behind me, her muscles coiled as if she were actively restraining herself from violence.
I turned my head just enough to look at her.
Ali wasn't the massive bloke who had pinned me in the alleyway, but the look Dr. Carter was giving him made it clear he might as well be.
Then, her expression shifted. A dark, amused, and utterly lethal smirk spread across her beautiful face.
Her dark eyes peeled away from him to look down at me, and fuck, those brown depths looked capable of orchestrating world destruction.
Her grip on my waist tightened further, her fingers digging into my skin.
She leaned down, her breath brushing warm against my ear. I forgot how to inhale. She whispered, loud enough to cut through the bass but quiet enough to remain strictly between us: “Do you want to go with him?”
Not a chance in hell.
She pulled back slightly to look at me, and I simply shook my head, my voice entirely lost to the suffocating heat of her hand on my body. Dr. Carter lifted an eyebrow, her gaze snapping back to Ali.
“You should find someone else to drool over,” she said. Her voice was remarkably calm, dripping with a quiet, terrifying authority.
Ali hesitated, letting out a nervous, forced laugh, clearly assuming she was just some fiercely protective, platonic older friend. “Come on, Alex. I’ll buy you a birthday shot,” he said, flashing a desperate smile.
I felt Dr. Carter’s hand flex violently against my hip. She leaned back in, her lips brushing through the stray curls of my hair as she whispered, “Do you want him to leave?”
I didn’t even turn around. I just took a slow sip of my rum and nodded. Yes. I wanted him gone. He was ruining my night, and I was losing the battle to control my temper.
Dr. Carter sat up fully, her posture instantly radiating the terrifying, unassailable power she held in the lecture halls. She looked down at Ali and delivered a single, icy command.
“Leave.”
Before Ali could even process the word, my entire universe tilted.
Dr. Carter’s hand shot up from my waist, her fingers tangling firmly into the hair at the back of my head.
She forced my head around, tilting my chin up and angling my neck back to completely expose the skin.
Before a single coherent thought could form in my brain, her lips slammed into the side of my neck.
And she sucked. Hard.
Fuck me.
A violent, catastrophic wave of pure arousal and heat crashed through my lower abdomen.
My body went entirely rigid. What the actual fuck was she doing?
My fingers gripped my rum glass so tightly the glass threatened to shatter; my free hand shot up, clamping onto her upper arm, feeling the hard, toned muscle beneath her sleeve.
I felt her teeth nibble lightly against the bruised skin, and a breathless, broken gasp escaped my throat before she finally pulled away.
I didn't know what her game was, but holy Christ, I wanted her to do it again.
She didn't even look at me. Her dark eyes remained locked on Ali, daring him to utter a single word.
I couldn't tell you what his face had looked like, or if he even said anything before he left, because my brain was entirely fried. Maybe I’d had too much to drink.
Maybe the vodka had caused a full-blown hallucination.
Because in what fucking reality did Dr. Carter just purposefully bite a hickey into my neck in the middle of a crowded bar?
I stared at her, wide-eyed and breathing heavily, trying to anchor myself. The music was still blasting, people were laughing and drinking all around us, entirely oblivious to the fact that my entire world had just fundamentally shifted on its axis.
She let go of my head, smoothing down her black shirt before reaching for her whiskey glass. She downed the remaining amber liquid in one smooth swallow, looking down at me with an entirely innocent expression.
“Is it really your birthday today?” she asked, her voice perfectly conversational, as if she hadn't just obliterated every professional boundary in existence.
I swallowed hard, looking toward the lounge. Ali was gone. I looked back up at her, my voice barely a whisper over the music. “Tomorrow. The thirteenth.”
She gave a slow, measured nod and stood up from her stool, smoothing her tailored trousers.
“You have lectures tomorrow,” she said softly, her dark eyes holding mine one last time. “Don’t stay out too late, darling.”
And without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away.
I sat frozen, my eyes tracking her every step as she navigated the bar and glided out the front door. She moved with an impossible, unbothered grace, as if she had never rushed a day in her life—or perhaps the entire world just slowed down to accommodate her.
I reached up, my trembling fingers tracing the hot, stinging skin of my neck.
Fuck me. What the actual fuck just happened?