Scoring Position (Daytona Fury #2)

29. Lark

TWENTY-NINE

LARK

“What a game, huh?” Monroe says as we wait outside the locker room for the guys. Ace texted me from the dugout—which he still hasn’t been caught doing—right after the ninth inning, asking me to stay until he was done with press. I’m assuming he’ll be a pretty hot commodity after the way he played today, so who knows how long I’ll be standing here? But if he wants to celebrate his first grand slam, then that’s what we’ll do.

“So good!” I reply, leaning against the wall beside her where we’re out of earshot of the other wives and girlfriends. I’m sure everyone saw Ace and me blowing kisses and making heart hands at each other, so I don’t know why I’m hiding over here. I guess part of me is still apprehensive about being accepted because of our age gap and the way I look different from all of them. Although, glancing around…I really don’t. Now that I have more exciting places to go than the grocery store and post office, I’ve been taking the time to play with all kinds of new makeup and hairstyles. We’re all wearing some type of Fury gear, whether it’s our guy’s jersey like me or something custom-made like the dress Monroe has on. I can’t help but notice the way I’m blending into the sea of WAGs, even though I’m not technically Ace’s girlfriend.

“That grand slam deserves a blow job,” she says with a devious grin. I playfully roll my eyes, smirking back at her because, of course, it does . I plan on congratulating him properly as soon as we’re alone.

“Anyway,” I say, redirecting the conversation. “What are you and Riggs up to tonight?”

She scoffs. “I’ve been working all day setting up a marketing plan for the world’s most demanding client. Bless her heart, but if I don’t get fucked within an inch of my life tonight, I’m going to snap on her ass and get myself fired.”

I shrug. “I can’t think of a better stress reliever.”

She snaps both fingers above her head. “Amen, girl. A-fucking-men.”

Just then, her boyfriend pushes through the heavy metal doors, a wide smile stretching across his face as soon as his eyes lock onto her. They banter and give each other shit non-stop, but it doesn’t take more than a few seconds of watching them to see how in love they are. The way they’re so open with their affection in public makes me want that, too.

Ryan wasn’t a completely neglectful husband. He kissed me when he came home from work every night, and before we went to bed. He touched me while we were having sex. But when it came to stealing moments throughout the day or him not being able to keep his hands off me when other people were around, I’m not sure we ever really had that. At the beginning, maybe. But I never felt like he loved me loudly.

“Fuck, Mayhem,” he says, taking in her outfit. The short dress is made of a white jersey material, with his name and number on the back in teal sequins. Black thigh-high boots adorn her feet, zipping up the backs of her long legs and leaving just a sliver of skin visible below the hem. I understand his reaction because she looks absolutely beautiful. “I need to get you home before I do something you’ll probably like but will definitely get me kicked off the team.”

She throws her arms around his neck as he lifts her off the ground, carrying her toward the exit. “Bye, Lark! Text me!” she yells, waving over his shoulder until they disappear into the warm Florida evening air.

Players funnel out, finding the people who are waiting for them and leaving until I’m the only one left. Just as I’m about to text Ace to ask if I should take off, the doors fly open, and he walks through with his giant duffel bag draped over his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, concern written all over his face. “They made me do—oof!” He catches me as I launch myself into his arms, placing both hands under my ass for support when I wrap my legs around his waist. Cupping his cheeks, I press my lips to his in a searing kiss. His eyebrows shoot up, but relax as he melts into me, sliding his tongue against mine. Dropping his bag to the floor with a thud, he turns and presses my back into the cement wall as we swallow each other’s needy moans. His cock hardens between us, and I cross my ankles behind him, squeezing our bodies together as a dull ache blooms to life within me. I’m glad we’re the only ones here, because as much as I said I wanted to know what it was like to be with someone who wasn’t afraid to show their affection in public, this is not what I meant.

Thankfully, he pumps the brakes before we end up fucking right in the hallway, pulling back and resting his forehead against mine as we both try to catch our breath. My heart swells in my chest when his eyes open, locking onto mine as a soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, that was a nice surprise,” he says, sliding me down his body until my feet hit the floor. “What did I do to deserve that?”

I smile up at him, tilting my head. “You’re you.” He presses his thumb to my bottom lip, kissing my hair as I nuzzle into his chest. Everything about him makes me feel so warm and adored, and I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to show the world that he’s mine.

“Ace?” I say quietly, listening to his heart beat steadily against my ear.

“Yeah, Sweets?” he replies.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” He pulls away, and I look up at him as a wide smile stretches across his face. Breathing a sigh of relief that the words are out of my mouth, I await his answer.

“Kinda already thought I was,” he jokes. I sag into him, shaking with silent laughter as I nod my head.

“Yeah, well, I had to endure a very stern lecture from a six-year-old wielding a green crayon as a weapon before I could officially ask.”

He squeezes me tightly, pressing his lips to mine as he smiles against them. “I was made to be your boyfriend, Lark Dawson. I’m going to make you so happy.”

“You already have.”