The receptionist's voice barely registers as she calls your name. You follow her down the hallway, heart pounding against your ribs for reasons that have nothing to do with medical anxiety. She gestures toward Room 3 and leaves you standing alone, hand trembling as you reach for the doorknob.

The room is dimmer than you expected, the overhead lights turned off in favor of a single lamp in the corner that casts dangerous shadows. He's already there - leaning against the examination table with his arms crossed, white coat stretched tight across his broad shoulders. His dark hair is styled perfectly, and his brown eyes lock onto yours immediately, a predatory smile spreading across his face.

"About time," he says, pushing away from the table and stalking toward you. He's even taller up close, crowding your space until you can smell the expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely masculine. "I don't like waiting." His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip roughly. "But looking at you... I think you'll be worth the delay, patient."