She left me standing there, her scent lingering in the air like a taunt. Every instinct screamed to go after her, to make her understand that she was playing with fire by letting other Alphas close.
But I stayed put.
Because Richards was right about one thing, we couldn't afford to lose her.
Even if watching her with other players was going to drive me fucking insane.
Chapter 3
Harper
I’d arrived in Seattle just in time mandatory team physicals. It was all of the basic stuff where I checked player’s vitals, tested their range of motion, and then cleared the players for the next month of games. Simple. Clinical. Boring. It was absolutely perfect.
However nothing about Knox Maddox was any of those things.
"Take your shirt off," I said, not looking up from my clipboard where I was checking off a few items.
"No."
My blue ink pen froze, hovering above a box I’d just about moved to check off. I took a breath and noted the time on the wall, it was fifteen minutes after six. The training room was empty except for us, because I'd deliberately scheduled him last to avoid an audience for whatever bullshit he was about to pull.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, Doc." He sat on the examination table like a king on a throne, fully dressed in his practice gear. "No."
I set down the clipboard and met his eyes. They were darker today, almost black, and his jaw was clenched like he was fighting something.
"You need to pass this physical to play. That means shirt off. Now."
"Make me."
The challenge in his voice sent heat pooling in my stomach that had nothing to do with anger. I stepped closer, close enough to smell the pine and smoke that haunted my dreams.
"You want to play Saturday?" I asked.
"You know I do."
"Then stop acting like a child and take your damn shirt off."
His hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. "Can't."
"Why?"
"Because if I take it off, if you touch me..." He trailed off, nostrils flaring. "Just can't."
"Knox." I softened my voice slightly. "I'm your doctor. This is my job. Nothing more."
"Bullshit.” His head snapped up at my words and I could feel them vibrating down my spine. "You feel it too. Don't pretend you don't get just a little wet at the thought of me and you, right on the cold concrete floor..."
I wanted to protest. I wanted to disappear into the goddamn floor.
I did feel it. Had been feeling it for two weeks now. The pull between us that got stronger every time we were in the same room. The way my body responded to his scent despite the suppressants. The dreams that left me aching and empty.
"What I feel is irrelevant," I finally managed to find some words. "Shirt. Off. Or I'm calling Coach, right now, and telling him you're unfit to play."
For a moment, I thought he'd call my bluff. Then, with movements sharp with frustration, he yanked his shirt over his head.
Holy.
