NORA
I sat on my bed, the glow of the laptop screen lighting up my face. My fingers moved over the keyboard, searching for something I wasn't even sure I should be looking for.
A gynecologist.
The thing is, I didn't have a medical problem. Not really. What I had was an ache—a deep, lonely hunger that made my skin itch. I wanted to be touched. I wanted someone professional, someone who knew exactly how the body worked, to put their hands on me.
And a gynecologist would be the perfect person.
As I scrolled, looking for the perfect face and fit, I saw him. Dr. Kaelen. His profile picture showed a man in his thirties with sharp, dark eyes and a jawline that could cut glass. He looked cold. He looked like he didn't tolerate nonsense.
"Perfect," I whispered to myself. It was exactly what I
