Page 98 of Major Penalty

She freezes. Her breath catches in her throat.

You recognize your mother’s name, little thing?

I pull back enough to look into her face.

“And the daughter?” I whisper, my lips brushing hers. “Her name was Irene.”

Chapter twenty-one

~IRENE~

My body goes still, my heart sinking. My breath catches in my throat like a noose pulled tight.

He knows.

His mouth is still against my skin, but my soul has left the building. My brain is static, and my chest collapses around itself like a dying star. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. My lips part uselessly, my thoughts splintering into chaos.

The boy I grew up hearing about. The reason I went into this line of work. The reason I believe in second chances. The reason I believe in Ares.Is him.

And now, he’s on top of me, and his mouth is trailing fire along my throat.

He’s known. He’d probably pieced it together that night in Florida. And I still kept it from him, because of my own fear that he’d shut me out if he knew. But he’s known, and he still took me to his beach house, told me he wanted to be close to me, and opened up to me about his past.

God, I’m so stupid.I should’ve told him.

My throat closes, and my chest aches like it’s caving in on itself, folding under the weight of realization, shock, and guilt.

I push at his chest, but it’s not to get him off me, it’s to make him stop so I can explain without his touch making every second a battle between guilt and pleasure. I want to explain and tell him everything.

He lifts his head, eyes locking on mine.

“You wanted to keep this from me?” he asks, his voice low. His expression is not cruel or angry; it’s hurt. There’s pain in his eyes, disappointment and betrayal, and it breaks my heart.

He’s letting the silence burn through me, waiting to see what I do with it. My lips part, but nothing comes out. My voice won’t work; my brain won’t connect.

I don’t know what to focus on. His face? His mouth? At his hand trailing a path between my legs?

“You’re…him,” I finally breathe, as his fingers slide my new panties aside, agonizingly slow. He drags his fingers over my bare pussy, and I gasp, my head falling back against the cushions.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out,” he says, working his fingers to spread my arousal around. I arch into his touch, trying to voice all the things in my head.

He trusted me with his pain, with his past, and gave me a chance to tell him who I am, and I didn’t. I opened myself to him in every way but that.

He’s looking at me like he’s been waiting for this moment, like the game is over and it’s time to collect.

My hands scramble for something to hold onto—his shirt, his skin, anything—because my entire world is shaking beneath me. I finally clutch at his shirt in both fists like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“I wanted to tell you,” I moan out, feeling his fingers slide inside me. It’s all I can say before I’m a moaning mess again.

“You didn’t,” he bites out, his fingers curling inside me like a warning. “You kept me in the dark.”

My legs tremble around him. My body tightens, pleasure clashing with guilt. I don’t know how I’m still soaking wet for him even as my chest caves in with guilt.

I try to sit up, to say more, toexplain, but he presses his palm flat against my stomach, keeping me pinned beneath him.

“No,” he murmurs. “Stay still.”

His fingers move again, deeper and faster. My legs tremble, and my body clenches around him, tight and high with need. But my heart aches, heavy with the weight of what I did to him. I made him feel like he’s a dirty secret, someone not worth loving openly. And I know I did it all from fear of losing him. I have to make him see it.

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