Page 13 of Scoring Position

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 uphigh 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 shouldnotbe 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 topcomes 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 bedetrimentalto 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 yourbooty. 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.

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