Forbidden Consultations

**Chapter 1: The Pulse of Temptation**

Miya stepped into the bustling halls of St. Anand Medical College, her petite frame almost swallowed by the sea of vibrant chatter and the spicy aroma of curry that lingered in the air. At barely 5’2”, with her small chest and quiet demeanor, she felt like a pale snowflake in a storm of rich, dark hues. Most of her classmates were Indian, their confident laughter and rapid Hindi banter a stark contrast to her soft Russian accent and reserved nature. But Miya wasn’t here to blend in—she was here to carve her path, and nothing would stand in her way.

Her first anatomy class was a whirlwind of diagrams and Latin terms, but it was the teaching assistant, Rohan, who caught her eye. Tall, with skin like polished teak and a smirk that could melt steel, he prowled the lab with an effortless swagger. His gaze landed on Miya as she struggled to adjust her microscope, her delicate fingers fumbling with the knobs.

'Lost in the lens, are we?' Rohan’s voice was a low purr, laced with amusement as he leaned over her shoulder, his breath warm against her ear. 'Or are you just trying to magnify my charm?'

Miya’s pale cheeks flushed, but she tilted her chin up, meeting his dark eyes with a steely glint. 'If I wanted to study arrogance, I’d have picked a different subject. I’m here for anatomy, not your ego.'

Rohan chuckled, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. 'Feisty for a quiet one. I like that. Let’s see if you can keep up when things get… hands-on.' He lingered on the last word, his tone dripping with innuendo.

The tension between them crackled like static as the class dragged on. Miya felt his gaze on her, a predator sizing up prey, but she wasn’t about to be hunted. She matched his wit with sharp retorts, each jab fueling a fire she hadn’t expected to feel. By the time the lab emptied out, they were the last two left, cleaning up the dissection tools under the harsh fluorescent lights.

'You’re not like the others,' Rohan said, wiping down a scalpel with deliberate slowness, his biceps flexing under his tight shirt. 'Most girls here would’ve giggled at my lines. You bite back. Why is that, little snowflake?'

Miya smirked, slamming a tray of instruments down with more force than necessary. 'Because I’m not here to stroke your… confidence. I’ve got my own fire, Rohan. Care to test the heat?'

His grin widened, and he stepped closer, the air between them charged. 'Oh, I’d love to. But be warned, I play dirty.'

She didn’t back down, her heart racing as she felt the heat of his body inches from hers. 'Good. I don’t break easy.'

Their banter was a dance, each word a step closer to the edge. Rohan’s hand brushed hers as they reached for the same cloth, and the contact sent a jolt through her. His fingers lingered, rough and warm, and Miya’s breath hitched. She could see the hunger in his eyes, mirroring the sudden ache building inside her.

'Careful,' she warned, her voice low and steady despite the storm in her chest. 'Touch me again, and I might just dissect you instead.'

Rohan’s laugh was dark, seductive. 'I’d like to see you try. But first… let’s see how well you handle pressure.'

He closed the gap, his hand sliding to her waist, pulling her against him. Miya’s resolve didn’t waver—she gripped his collar, yanking him down to her level, their lips crashing in a fierce, hungry kiss. The lab table pressed into her back as their bodies collided, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat flaring between them. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and his hands roamed with purpose, igniting every nerve. The promise of something raw and explosive hung in the air, ready to unravel them both.