Chapter 22 #4
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.
I sat there, clutching the edge of the barstool, watching her plate up.
She moved with a focused efficiency, placing the perfectly seared chicken alongside the fresh salad.
The domesticity of it should have felt normal, but after that phone call, everything felt like it had been dialled up to eleven.
She set a plate in front of me and then sat down with her own, her eyes meeting mine over the steam of the food.
"Don't forget our deal, Alex," she said, her voice regaining that steady, authoritative edge.
"I’m holding up my end. My hair will be up.
But I expect you to be on your absolute best behaviour tomorrow night.
Carlos is... loud. And crowded. I suspect there will be plenty of opportunities for you to prove exactly how good you can be for me.
" She took a bite of her dinner, looking entirely unbothered, while my heart was doing fucking backflips.
"I'll be good," I promised, though my voice was a little raspy.
"We'll see," she replied, a tiny, dangerous smirk playing on her lips. "I hope for your sake you are. I’d hate to have to cut our evening short to address a... disciplinary issue."
I had never been so excited and so fucking terrified for a night out in my life.
Carlos was a dive—but it was full of local regulars, and exactly the kind of "hot older women" Mia was bragging about.
Taking Dr. Carter there with me was like bringing a high-powered laser into a room full of gunpowder.
I picked up my fork, but my appetite was a distant second to the adrenaline coursing through me.
Tomorrow night wasn't just a drink; it was a test. And as I looked at Carrie, sitting there looking like the most composed, beautiful, and lethal woman I had ever met, I knew that I was going to do whatever it took to pass.