That knowing, predatory smile was the last thing her professional brain processed before it shut down completely. He didn’t move, not at first. He just watched her, letting her stew in the hot, thick silence, her face a burning beacon of guilt.

“I… I-I’m so sorry,” she stammered, scrambling backward, her hand hitting a tray of metal instruments with a clatter that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. “I don’t know… I wasn’t…”

Jaxson pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the table. He moved with a predator’s grace, the ankle seemingly forgotten. He reached out and wrapped his large hand around her wrist, his...