Page 83 of Major Penalty

“Show you?” Without breaking his eye contact, he slowly starts lifting his shirt.

I can see the muscles in his abdomen, the way his abs flex as he lifts the fabric higher, and I’m paralyzed in place. He doesn’t stop, pulling the T-shirt up just enough to reveal the tattoos covering his chest. His entire torso is inked, the designs snaking across his skin, and I can’t look away.

God, how does he make something as simple as taking off a shirt feel like a damn weapon? He knows what he’s doing. And I know that he knows. This slow, torturous strip-tease? It’s all for me.

My breath stalls when he bites the hem of his shirt, keeping it up while he starts pulling down his sweatpants. My eyes are glued to the movement as he exposes the sharp V-line of his body, the lines of muscle that I know are just as dangerous as his stare. My pulse spikes, and my head is spinning with the sight of him. My entire body is aching for him.

I manage to look down at the fading bruise on his hip. It’s already looking so much better, but I’m too aware of him with so much of his body on display, and I feel like I’m suffocating in the desire he’s building in me.

I breathe out, letting my fingers brush the area. It’s gone from a deep purple to a fading pink, and I try to concentrate on the medical details, but it’s hard when he’s standing over me like this, his body demanding my attention. And I intend to give it all to him.

“It looks so much better,” I murmur, trying to sound like the professional I’m supposed to be. “I see the swelling has also gone down. The rest has done wonders.”

I wish I could be more clinical, more detached, but I can’t. Everything in me is screaming for him to touch me again.

I force myself to pull my hand away from his skin, but it’s like it’s been branded on me. Ares slowly releases his shirt from his teeth, letting it fall back over his stomach, but it’s still lifted just enough for me to see the shape of his abs. I try to look away but can’t stop my gaze from drifting back to him, my pulse racing.

“Are you sure?” he asks. And then, like the devil himself, he lifts his hand slowly, tracing his fingers up the side of my neck, over my jawline, until his thumb brushes my lip. I instinctively open my mouth, letting his thumb slip inside. And then I bite, my teeth clamping around his finger just past the first knuckle.

Ares inhales sharply, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. I love doing this to him, watching him react to me the same way I respond to him.

“No,” I murmur around his finger before letting go of it. “I think I need to get a closer look,” I add, my eyes flicking down and then back up to his. I would have never even thought of saying something so bold before. This is what he does to me, and I never want it to end. I like this version of myself. I like the fact that it’s for his eyes only.

Ares releases his bottom lip from his teeth with a wolfish smile. His hand travels down my neck until it settles in my hair at the back of my head. My breath catches in my throat as he pulls me closer, his touch possessive, demanding.

“I think so, too,” he murmurs, the words vibrating through my chest.

I snap my eyes up to his. My pulse races, my body reacting before my brain can process it. He doesn’t need to say anything more; the implication is there. It’s that deep, sure voice of his, the one that drags me to him and says “come here” without needing to say it.

Slowly, he presses his hand into the back of my head, gently guiding me down. My pulse skips, my body tingling with heat, as I realize what he’s asking me to do.

I glance at the door, suddenly remembering where we are. Anyone can walk in, but everything inside me wants this.

“Down,” he orders with the softest, deepest voice.

Oh my God.

My entire body trembles as he guides me to my knees. Raw, desperate need courses through me as I look up at him, my heart pounding, every part of me aching for him.

Ares stands over me with his hand on the back of my neck while I’m on my knees, my breath shallow. The heat between my legs is throbbing. It’s unbearable, this ache that he’s caused, and I know it’s only going to get worse the closer I get to him.

His smirk widens, and I see the hunger in his eyes. His hand releases my hair, but only to slide down, his fingers trailing slowly over my throat, feeling my pulse jump under his touch. The warmth of him is like fire, branding me. Everywhere he touches burns. I feel my body respond before my mind can stop it. I want him. I need him.

“So beautiful,” Ares murmurs, watching me closely, his voice a dark, seductive lullaby.

His fingers trail until they rest under my chin. He lifts my head with the slightest pressure, pulling me into his gaze. He leans down, and my breath hitches, desperate for him to close the distance. His thumb presses down on my chin, forcing my lips apart, and he brings his mouth to mine. I moan into it because I’ve missed the taste of him.

His kiss deepens, hardens, and suddenly, I’m drowning in him. I can feel the hunger in every stroke, every shift of his lips. His tongue brushes mine, and I’m lost. Every inch of me is on fire. I grab the hem of his shirt, tugging it down toward me. Ares groans, his grip tightening. I can feel his approval in the kiss. My hands move up his chest, exploring the hard lines of muscle under his shirt. I want him to lose himself in me, just like I’ve lost myself in him.

Ares deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing mine with slow strokes.

He pulls back a little, my lips hovering over his, and I can feel his breath, ragged and desperate.

“Did you miss me, little thing?” he murmurs, his lips brushing mine again, not kissing, just teasing. Torturing me.

“Did you miss me?” I challenge, my voice hoarse. My body screams for him, for his touch, for the way he makes me feel alive.

“More than you know,” he whispers before straightening and stepping back slightly, and I catch my breath. His eyes are still on me, never leaving me, as his fingers curl around the hair on the back of my head again. He pulls me back slightly, his fingers curling into my scalp, forcing me to look up at him.

---