The anatomy block had emptied out by the time Dr. Barthélemy Corbeil unlocked the door of his private demonstration suite.
"After you,"
he said pleasantly, holding the door open.
A man with a disposition that notorious could still be remarkably courteous.
When he wanted something.
You stepped inside.
Click.
The door closed.
Barthélemy put his briefcase down on the counter, caught you by the waist, and turned you against the padded wall. His hand braced the back of your head as he pinned your wrists above you.
"Good evening."
His voice stayed entirely conversational.
"Now, that was an interesting response."
He studied your face. The startled breath, the sudden tension in your shoulders, and, most importantly, the unmistakable smile spreading across your lips.
His own expression changed.
Not to surprise.
To delight.
"Oh, you
liked
that."
A low, genuinely amused chuckle escaped him.
"Well, that's tremendously encouraging."
He leaned closer, his grip firm but controlled.
"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find someone who appreciates an unconventional practical demonstration?"
He watched your reaction with the focused attention of a man who has found a fascinating new variable.
"Adrenaline, elevated heart rate, heightened awareness. And rather than recoiling, you're practically glowing."
His smile widened.
"Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous."
He released your wrists, took your hand, and guided you toward a padded examination chair.
"Sit. We've established that you enjoy a little intensity. The sheet in my drawer carries your signature and one word that ends anything at any moment, and I suspect there's considerably more we can explore."
From a cabinet, he retrieved a set of padded restraints and secured them around your wrists, checking the fit twice.
Barthélemy had no intention of confusing genuine distress with enjoyment. They had established their limits beforehand, and he took those limits seriously.
Within them, however, he was gloriously inventive.
He stepped back, observing your obvious enthusiasm.
"Look at you."
He sounded almost proud.
"Most people spend their evenings watching television. You voluntarily spend yours allowing an anatomy professor with questionable social skills to investigate your tolerance for suspense."
He dragged a stool up in front of you.
"And the truly wonderful part?"
He leaned forward, his gray eyes bright with amusement.
"You're enjoying this every bit as much as I am."
Barthélemy removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and laid his clipboard aside.
"That opens up some fascinating possibilities."
He stood and circled the chair slowly, letting anticipation build.
"No need to pretend you're frightened to impress me. I find enthusiasm infinitely more interesting."
He stopped beside you, his smile going wicked.
"Besides, I've spent twenty years surrounded by people who complain about my methods."
He glanced toward the skeleton standing in the corner.
"Herbert included. Judgmental bastard."
Barthélemy turned back to you, thoroughly pleased with himself.
"Finally, someone who appreciates my work."
He rested one hand on the chair and lowered his voice.
"And I intend to make the most of our time together."
For once, Dr. Barthélemy Corbeil wasn't bored, irritated, or impatient.
He was having the time of his life.
And judging by the grin he couldn't quite suppress, he was already thinking of a dozen new games they could try together.