9. Lark
NINE
LARK
“Hey, Sweets. Come on in,” Ace says as he opens the door for me. His hair is damp, and he’s wearing only a pair of low-hanging basketball shorts, clearly fresh from the shower. I try my best not to stare as I step into the room, taking in how amazing he smells as I pass.
Walking over to the table, I set my laptop and books down, noticing the giant bag of mixed bulk candy in front of the chair I used last time. For some reason, I fixate on it, taking in all the colorful, sugary pieces as my mouth waters. I have the biggest sweet tooth, and this bag is full of some of my favorites.
“I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he says over my shoulder, making me jump at how close he is. “I figured you can’t go wrong with the classics.”
I turn my head, looking up at where he towers over me. “These are mine?”
He shrugs. “A little thank you gift for letting me put my mouth on your boob.” A boyish grin blooms across his face, making me turn and slap his shoulder playfully. He laughs, rubbing the spot as though I hurt him. “Yes, they’re yours.”
I smile shyly, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Thank you.” I don’t know why I’m shocked at the offering. It’s just a bag of candy. Maybe it’s because after we got married, I put on some weight, and Ryan was always criticizing my sugar intake. Every time he saw me with a treat, he’d make a comment about how it would affect my body.
I’m happy with the way I look. I’m not stick thin, and I definitely weigh more now than I did in college—but I’m healthy. I work out and eat plenty of vegetables and proteins…I just also happen to never turn down a sour gummy worm. It’s taken me a long time to reach this level of comfort in my own skin. I have days from time to time when I wish I looked like the models on the covers of fashion magazines, but that’s just not my body type—and I’m okay with that.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, rounding the table and pulling out his chair. He winces as he slowly lowers himself down, shifting his weight to one side.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. He’s clearly in pain, which is jarring to see because he’s so big.
He shakes his head. “Just a little parting gift from tonight’s win. It’s no big deal.” He moves again, trying to find relief against the hard pleather he’s sitting on.
“Ace, you’re not going to be able to focus if you’re uncomfortable. Let’s get on the bed so you can lie down.”
He hesitates before exhaling a heavy sigh. “Alright, but I really am fine. It happens all the time.” He reaches over and gathers my belongings, candy included, and sluggishly makes his way to the bed. I follow, waiting for him and noticing how his hand hovers over his hip as he lowers onto the mattress before settling on the opposite side.
“Can I see it?” I ask, immediately realizing how terrible of an idea it is. From where he was holding it, I know the injury is up high enough that he’d need to pull his shorts down to show me. But I want to help him.
His brows pinch in as though he’s considering it before he finally relents, pushing his fingertips under his waistband and sliding the black mesh and his boxer briefs down his hip. My eyes focus on his round ass right away, and I instantly regret the whole thing.
Fuck. It’s perfect.
I knew Ace had the most exquisite butt, even with pants on. But seeing the smooth skin stretched over his tight muscles is making me feel things—things I definitely should not be feeling about the guy I’m tutoring. I do my best to peel my gaze away, which isn’t that hard once his injury comes into view.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, bringing my hand over my mouth in shock. “Ace.”
“I’m okay, Sweets,” he replies quietly, as if he’s trying to calm me down. “Hazard of the job. I slid into home at a weird angle. It’s just a friction burn.” The skin is raw and bruised, with angry scrapes scattered along the surface. It looks extremely painful, and I immediately shift into caretaker mode, needing to make him feel better.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” I ask. “You need ointment on this. You cleaned it well, but it’ll get infected if you aren’t careful.”
He looks toward his luggage that’s piled in the corner of the room. “I don’t think so. Maybe the hotel stocks them in the bathrooms. I’ll go look.” He pulls his waistband up and attempts to sit, but I place a gentle hand on his shoulder, pushing him back.
“I’ll get it. Stay here.” He nods in understanding as I turn and head through the door, opening drawers to see that they’re all empty. Thankfully, when I check under the sink, I find what I’m looking for as a small white box with a red cross on top comes into view. I pick it up, pop the top, and remove the gauze, medical tape and antibiotic ointment.
“They have everything we need,” I say, returning to his side. “Can you hold your shorts down for me again?”
He swallows thickly, obliging as he angles his head away from me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was uncomfortable, so I double-check. “Is it okay for me to touch you? I’ll be careful.”
“Yes, please,” he replies on a breath, and I watch his eyes close before uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the clear gel onto my fingertips. It’s a pretty decent-sized wound, so I’ll need to do this more than once.
As tenderly as I can, I apply the ointment, doing my best to cover all the open skin without causing him too much pain. “You okay?” I ask, listening to his quickened breath as I move my hand along his hip.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “It feels good.”
“Good,” I echo quietly, ghosting gently along his warm skin and feeling the firm muscles contract slightly under my touch. I continue, making sure the whole thing is covered before replacing the cap and setting the tube on the nightstand. Picking up the gauze, I unfold the biggest one to make it large enough to cover the entire burn, thankful to find that it’s just the right size. Any smaller and we’d have had to leave his ass hanging out all night, which would be detrimental to my focus. My eyes keep wandering as it is.
I carefully lay the dressing over the wound, reaching for the tape and pulling off long strips before affixing them to the edges to hold it down. He sucks in a quiet gasp as I graze my fingers along them to make sure they’re pressed down, and I pull back in fear that I’ve hurt him.
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “All done. I promise.”
He turns his head, locking his gaze onto mine. It’s intense—like he’s trying to see inside my soul as he stares without blinking. “Don’t be sorry. I liked it. Thank you.” I can’t help but think about how different he is from what I’m used to. He’s not being macho and telling me he doesn’t need my help. The only reason he said he was fine to begin with was because I was concerned. But when I offered to take care of him, he let me instead of acting like I was blowing everything out of proportion. I’m sure he wasn’t lying when he said things like this happen all the time, but he still allowed me to try to make him feel better. Ryan used to tell me I was doing too much when I tried to care for him, yet he would let his mom come into our home and treat him like a child if he so much as sneezed. As his wife, that was never an easy pill to swallow. I always felt so unimportant.
But Ace made me feel the exact opposite.
“You’re welcome,” I say quietly, finally breaking our connection and gathering the supplies before hurrying to the bathroom as fast as my feet will carry me. I close the door, setting everything on the counter as I turn on the faucet and wash my hands, abruptly scrubbing soap between them as I try to rid all the strange things I’m feeling from my mind.
“You don’t really like him, Lark. You just haven’t touched a man’s ass in a long time, and you’re thinking with your vagina,” I mumble to myself quietly, turning off the tap and looking into the mirror. “He’s so young. You’re his tutor. Get your shit together.”
I return the first aid supplies to their spot under the sink before smoothing my hair and opening the door. Ace is now propped up against the pillow, typing away on his laptop as he focuses on the screen. I almost crawl up beside him on the bed but think better of it, taking a chair from the table and pulling it toward him. He pauses, giving me a skeptical look.
“I see how it is,” he says. “I’m good enough for a booty rub, but not a cuddle. Got it.”
I roll my eyes. “First of all, it wasn’t your booty . It was your hip. And secondly, I’m here to help you with tonight’s assignment. Not to cuddle.”
He types for another thirty seconds, pressing the enter button and closing the laptop before looking back over at me. “It’s done.”
“What?” I reply, scowling. “You’re telling me you answered all the vocabulary questions while I was washing my hands?”
He shrugs, setting the computer aside. “I figured you were taking a shower or something with how long you were in there.”
Shit.
Looking at the clock on the wall, I realize that my little pep talk lasted fifteen minutes. I also notice how raw my palms feel from the amount of time I spent lathering them up. I clear my throat. “The ointment was hard to get off.” It’s a lie, but he lets it go, adding to the many reasons I find him endearing. He’s cocky, but it’s more playful than anything. He can obviously tell I’m a little flustered, but he isn’t pointing it out or making me feel embarrassed over it.
Nothing like a guy being a decent human being to make you realize how low the bar actually is.
“Oh. Okay,” he says. “And yes, I did the vocabulary assignment. I just have to do the quiz, and I’ll be done with the Physiology module.”
“Good job,” I say, and he smiles at the praise. “Do you have any questions or want to revisit any of it? Since this is a streamlined course, there isn’t a midterm. But all the stuff you just learned will definitely be on the final, which is a huge part of your grade.”
He shakes his head. “I think I’ve got it. The notes you gave me were really helpful, and I’ll use them when I study at the end of the semester.”
I guess my work here is done. The weekly assignments are always posted on Sunday evenings, but the quizzes don’t go up until Thursday. So, as far as this week goes, Ace has done everything he can.
“Well, I’ll see you back in Daytona, then,” I say, standing from my chair and turning toward the door. I don’t even get a single step before he shoots up and wraps his large hand around my wrist. Heat travels up my arm, and I freeze. Not because I don’t want him to touch me—but because it feels better than it should.
“Not so fast, Sweets. You owe me a night of fun.”