"Easy there," he says, his voice low and soothing, and that's when my world starts to spin once more.
Even though the dizziness doesn't completely disappear, the doctor – this stranger – doesn't let me go. His hand stays firm on my hips, steadying me, ensuring I don't crumple to the floor.
I hate it. Hate the idea that I have to depend on him. He's a stranger, albeit a handsome one, but I made a promise to myself, a pact of self-preservation. No men. Not for at least two years.
I overhear the nurse tell him she was about to call him, to which he responds with a gentle smile.
"I've got it from here, Nicole," he assures her.
I know he's referring to me, and I can't help the shiver that cascades down my spine. There's something about this man that chips away at my defenses, making me feel even weaker.
But I won't give in. I've spent too long honing my evasion skills, a whole year avoiding any semblance of attraction for any men. I can handle this.
Gradually, my vision clears, and I stand straighter, determined to regain my composure.
"Thank you," I tell him, my voice slightly shaky.
He smiles, a sight so beautiful it momentarily steals my breath. It's not fair how good-looking he is.
"Can you walk alone?” he asks, his gaze filled with genuine concern. “I’m Liam, and it seems I’m your doctor."
“Yes,” I tell him, gripping the edge of the reception counter for support as I tell him my name.
He gestures for me to follow him, and I do, my gaze bouncing around the sterile hospital hallways, doing my best to ignore the vision of him in front of me.
He's like a mountain, filling my entire line of sight with his broad shoulders and muscular build. I scold myself internally. No. Stop.
His office isn't far, and he's the quintessential gentleman, opening the door for me. I murmur my thanks, walking past him to the chair before his desk.
As I do, I can feel his gaze on me, appraising me, perhaps concerned, maybe something else. But I quickly squash the notion.
I'm here because I'm in pain, not to flirt with a handsome doctor. I have to remember that. I must.
Chapter 2 - Liam
Life has a way of throwing curveballs. I mean, you wake up, everything is normal - you're walking around in your everyday skin. Then, bam! A woman walks into your life, and just like that, everything changes.
That woman, sitting across from me, is Kate.
I'd gone out for a few minutes of fresh air, attempting to escape the sterile scent of antiseptics and bandages that cling to my skin, when I spotted her.
She was at the front desk, swaying slightly, looking a bit out of sorts. My training kicked in without thinking, and I was by her side before I knew it.
That's when it happened. As I grabbed her before she could fall, a dormant part of me awakened. It stirred, groggy, a beast I had put to sleep after the war. It was a part of me I thought I'd lost. My heart pounded like a drum, and I knew right there and then she was trouble.
Now, she's here in my office. The faint sheen of sweat on her face, the clenched jaw, the slight pallor - signs of pain that she's trying to conceal. I recognize it, but she's stubborn, refusing my help even when I can see she needs it. Why? I wish I knew.
The worry lines etching her face are evident, and I can see the pain flickering in her eyes. I just want to help, but she's making it impossible.
"Where does it hurt?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
She points to her left side, and the wince she gives away tells me more than words ever could. I motion her to the stretcher and ask her to lift her shirt.
Suddenly, it feels like I'm asking too much - like I'm breaching a boundary. But she's just a patient. I have to remember that.
Kate complies without hesitation, climbing onto the stretcher and lifting her shirt just enough to reveal the curve of her under boob. I catch my breath, forcing my gaze away and then back to where it should be. Clinical. Professional.
I struggle to maintain my composure, biting my tongue as I try to suppress this sudden surge of lust – a desire for a woman I've just met and yet, who's awakened something I haven't felt in years.