Page 24 of Major Penalty

Then I grab her. Fast. Smooth. No warning. I twist our positions in a second flat, my hands snaking around her waist, flipping her around.

And just like that, she’s the one against the exam table. Trapped, caged, and pinned. A small, sharp gasp escapes her lips, her chest rising too fast. Her pulse slams under my touch as I keep her locked there.

Her eyes go wide as I let my gaze drop to her mouth.

She notices, and her lips part instantly in a silent invitation. Her breathing is ragged now, and for a moment, I let myself think about it. What she’d taste like.

What she’d sound like if I really pushed. If I let her fall straight into the fire I’m trying to keep her away from.

“Ares…” Her eyes flick to mine, like she can read my thoughts. Like she knows exactly how close I am to ruining her.

I lean in closer, and her breath stalls.

I could do it. I could fucking take her apart right here. Make her beg for the things she doesn’t even understand yet. But she’s too soft, too goddamn pure to be anywhere near this raw, filthy mess I’m about to get her into.

She’s trying to take care of me—soft, sweet, and way too good—and this is me trying like hell to protect her from the wreckage that’s me.

She doesn’t need a guy like me dragging her into the dark.

She deserves light. Peace. A future that doesn’t come with bruised knuckles and baggage. The selfish part of me wants to give in—wants to give her exactly what those pleading eyes are asking for. But I can’t, even though my hand’s are already twitching, wanting to reach out. To trace the curve of her lips. To brush her hair back, just so I can bury my face in her neck and pretend, just for a second, that I get to have this. That I get to have her. Both sides of me are reckless. Stupid. Screaming. I don’t deserve her care—or her affection. But God, I wish I did

“That’s enough for today,” I say and muster all the self-control I have to pull her back up and release her. I take a step back, running a hand through my hair.

She sways slightly like she just lost her balance. Like her body hasn’t caught up to the fact that I let her go.

Good.

She should be grateful I stopped. Because next time she touches my dick, I won’t—accidental or not. Because she didn’t pull back when she realized what she’d touched. She didn’t stop. Instead, she let her fingers slide lower, testing how much she could touch and get away with.

The little fucking tease.

I watch her for a moment, the way she’s still standing there, hands trembling slightly trying to recover. I take a slow step back, giving us both space. She’s still frozen and still trying to process. But I don’t have time for that. I don’t have time for any of it. I have to get out of here before I find out if those lips are just as soft as they look.

I step over to the table where she keeps her clipboard, where she’s scribbled notes about me.

I grab the pen she left behind, fingers curling around it as I glance down at the paper—my name already scrawled across the top. Then I add mine beneath it, in bold and sure writing“Full range of motion – passed.”Then I add a small note in parentheses under it:“Cleared for all activities.”

I set the pen down, my hand resting on the clipboard for a second longer.

I look at her one last time, at those wide eyes, the way she’s struggling to figure out what she’s feeling.

“Ares, you can’t…” Her eyes dart between the clipboard and me, realizing what I’ve just done. “You can’t do that.”

“Good job today, doc,” I mutter in response, my voice low.

And then, I turn, walking out without another word, leaving her behind in a tension-filled room.

Today is my day off. No practice, no team meetings, and no Irene. I head to the youth center like I always do. No one knows about it, and no one needs to, except for Rowan and Damien. It’s an old building tucked away in one of the rougher parts of the city—but not run-down or understaffed. I make generous donations that cover a good portion of the costs and the renovations.

The kids inside are the ones who fell through the cracks, whose parents failed them. Orphans and CPS kids, abandoned and left to figure life out on their own.

I know what that feels like. I know what it’s like to grow up angry. To have nowhere to put it. To have no one to turn to. And when you’re that broken, the last thing you expect is someone to help you. To actually give a shit.

But I had one person. A good man found me after I left the system and ended up with a bad crowd. He took me under his wing, and even though I was already fucked up, even though it was almost too late, he helped me. And I owe him everything. Everything I have, everything I am—I owe it to him. And I never want to be a broken spare part to him. I might not be able to repay him fully, but I’ll be damned if I don’t give these kids the chance I never had.

I don’t want them to be like me. I don’t want them to have the anger, the isolation. I don’t want them to spend their nights wondering why other children have mommies and daddies, and they have nothing.

So, I come here whenever my schedule allows me to, quietly and happily. Not to play hero, not to fix them, but to make sure they don’t have to fight the same way I did—alone.

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