Page 61 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

Control

Chance

“So, ah, Jen,” Ant starts, “I understand you and Chance were in cahoots back in school when the pipe burst in my dorm room.”

Jen leans against my shoulder. “Hey, all this one told me was that your dorm was suddenly going to become unlivable—and I needed to devise an excuse why you couldn’t stay with me.”

Ant’s narrowing his eyes at me…again.

Jen reaches up and squeezes my cheek like I’m a toddler.

“I was not informed this menace was going to cause that much damage just to force you to live with him. But, without him even telling me his reasons, I knew he was protecting you from something . And that’s all I needed to know. ” Then she kisses my reddened cheek.

The moment passes when one of the Tom’s Diner employees working the takeout counter calls out a name to pick up their order—loud, clear, and unmistakable.

“Joan Jett!”

I blink. Ant rolls his eyes.

Jen shrugs, all nonchalance and sass. “What can I say?” she tosses over her shoulder as she exits the booth. “I’m a Blackheart.”

I chuckle as she struts off toward the counter, then glance across the table at Ant.

“You’re different,” I prompt quietly.

He quirks a brow. “Yeah? How so?”

I lean in a little, trying to find the words. “Before… it was like you were treading water with a weight tied around your ankle. Beautiful, yeah, but visibly struggling to stay afloat.”

“And now?”

“Now,” I say, “you’re splashing around freely. Untethered. Like you’re… in control.”

He looks down for a second, cheeks pink. “After you left, I had to face how I felt about you, and what that meant about me. I had to accept who I was, sexually.”

My heart clenches when he looks at me—so calm, so self-possessed.

He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “And, well, three years of therapy hasn’t hurt either. I had to learn how to disconnect my sexuality from what they did to me. That changed everything.”

“Really?” I ask, my voice a little hoarse. “Do you still see a therapist now?”

“Yeah. I probably will for years to come.” He pauses, eyes searching mine. “You know… I could ask if he has room in his schedule for another client. He’s incredible. He’s very confidential, of course. And what you’ve been through, Chance…”

My voice sounds like pure gravel when I admit, “I think I need it, Ant. I don’t want the pain to take over. I want to build something real. I want us to have a beautiful life together—if you’ll let me try.”

Ant squeezes my hand tighter.

“If you think I waited three years, finally have you again, and I’m not going to let you try? You must’ve lost too much oxygen under the sheets this morning.”

I let out a surprised laugh.

“But yes,” he says, “I’m going to let you try. Again. And again. And again.” Then he leans in closer, drops his voice, and finishes me off. “And again.”

I shake my head and reach for the little check holder at the edge of the table.

“I better get the check before I leap across this table, and we’re never allowed in here again.”

Ant and I walk out of the restaurant, the sun climbing higher in the sky. It’s a perfect morning and I don’t want it to end.

“Will you come somewhere with me?” I ask, glancing at him as we step onto the curb.

He raises a brow but doesn’t pull away. “Depends. Is it a cabin? A murder mansion? Ooh, is it a sex shack?”

Holding back a laugh, I rest my hand on the small of his back, and guide him toward the street.

Deacon’s SUV is parked on the curb, and I motion Ant toward it. He throws me a smirk and says, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

I groan, open the back door, and lean down. “Gallery.”

Deacon nods once. “Yes, sir.”

Ant climbs in with a dramatic sigh and I follow him in, closing the door.

As Deacon pulls away from the curb, Ant leans forward, assessing him. “This is kind of convenient. You're like an Uber and an assassin in one. Ooh, we could create an app. UberAss.”

From the driver’s seat, Deacon flatly says, “No.”

Ant snickers and elbows me. “See, I told you. Reacher.”

Deacon looks in the rearview and deadpans, “I don't have as many social skills.”

Ant smirks. “You don’t say.”

Fuck, Ant's got a bratty edge to him now. Makes me want to haul him across the seat and kiss him breathless.

A few minutes later, we pull up to the gallery. I hop out and hold the door as Ant steps out, smoothing the front of the t-shirt he's wearing. My t-shirt. It stokes the possessive flames in my gut that burn for one man only.

Ant leans in, wraps a hand around my bicep and whispers in my ear, “Keep looking at me like that and I'm going to throw you back in the SUV and send Deacon to go get coffee or something.”

I half laugh and half grumble as I lean in and tell Deacon we won't be long.

He gives a lazy wave. “I’ll be right here.”

Inside, the gallery is buzzing with prep work, white canvas being rolled out across walls for the upcoming exhibit. My intern hours are Monday to Thursday, so I’m off today. Liz sees me immediately—then notices I have someone with me—and heads our way.

Her eyes narrow as she approaches, recognition flickering.

Shit.

“You’re Anthony.” It’s not a question.

Ant glances at me, confused. “Have we met?”

“No,” she says, turning to me with a knowing smirk. “But I’ve seen... a lot of you.”

Ant’s cheeks pinken, and I clear my throat. “Liz, this is him .”

“Well damn,” she murmurs, offering him a hand. “You weren’t exaggerating, Chance.”

“I—what did he tell you?” Ant says, looking mildly panicked.

Liz just winks. “Not nearly enough. It's not hard to see why you're his muse.”

Ant shifts on his feet.

“I, uh—Liz wanted to see my work, so she stopped by Monday,” I explain.

Liz hums, looking Ant over. “I have to say, I wasn't sure the inspiration could live up to the art, but you're even better in person.”

Ant laughs nervously. “Thanks—I think.”

Liz eyes me expectantly. “Have you asked him yet?”

Ant looks to me and I shift with unease, heat crawling up my neck. “Uh, we’re just barely reconnecting. It’s a little early to mention.”

Liz places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Ant looks at me softly. “It’s okay. What is it, Chance?”

Looking down at my shoes, I rip the band aid off. “Liz asked if she could show my paintings in an exhibit for the gallery.”

I look up when Ant doesn’t respond. I can’t read his expression.

Fuck.

“I told her I wouldn’t do it unless you agreed. It would be your face on display, after all.”

Ant steps closer, places his hands on either side of my arms and squeezes. His lips turn up in the slightest smile. “I think you should do it.”

I search his eyes for uncertainty, but all I find is a heart-stopping mix of confidence and affection. “Are you sure?” I ask. Because I need him to be.

He squeezes my arms again. “Yes. They’re beautiful and your talent should be celebrated.”

I sag in relief. “Okay,” I tell him. “But you can change your mind at any time.”

Ant hits me with a crooked smile and shrugs. “I won’t. Everyone needs to see how gorrrgeous you think I am.” And then the little fucker bats his eyelashes at me.

See? Brat.

“Well, I’m excited to start planning,” Liz says, pulling us out of that little moment. “I need to get back to work boys, but it was great meeting you, Anthony. I hope to see you here often.”

Ant smiles and shakes her hand. “Thank you, Liz. You can count on it.”

Liz turns on her heels, head already buried in her phone, and makes a beeline to her office.

“You gonna give me the tour, art stud?” Ant asks as soon as she’s gone.

I huff a laugh and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Yeah, okay.”

I show Ant around the gallery and watch the way his eyes soften as he sees where I’m working. He takes it all in, absorbing the layout, and he listens as I tell him the ideas I had for the upcoming graffiti artist exhibit that Liz is incorporating.

As I finish showing him around, I’m hit with the nostalgia of the first time we met, Ant showing me around Devil Records.

The memory plays in my mind like a favorite song.

The melody seeps into my chest, the rhythm thumping in time with the beat of my heart.

I can’t believe I’m here with him. I never thought I’d get to hear this song again.

I snap out of my thoughts and Ant is looking at me with a mix of affection and awe.

Yeah, we need to go. “I want you to stay again tonight,” I say.

Ant frowns. “I can’t leave Little G with Lexi another night.”

“Then let’s get him,” I offer, already reaching for my phone.

A few minutes later, we’re back in the SUV, and I’m texting Lexi to bring Little G to the condo.

The ride is mostly quiet after that, except for the scratch of jeans against leather seats as I squirm under Ant’s fingertips slowly trailing up and down my thigh.

I try to stay cool, to not combust under the heat of his touch, but he’s relentless.

Each stroke creeps higher, his thumb brushing closer and closer to my groin.

I turn and look out the window, willing myself not to moan.

By the time we pull up in front of my condo, I’m hanging on by a thread.

Deacon shifts into park, and Ant hops out, tugging me with him, laughing as he yanks me along the sidewalk like a kid dragging a balloon on a string. I glance over my shoulder, grinning as I wave Deacon off.

The second we’re inside the condo, Ant’s hands are on my chest, pushing me back toward the kitchen.

“You good?” I ask, breath hitching.

He doesn't answer with words—just crowds into my space, his fingers curling into the hem of my shirt. I’m sandwiched between him and the countertop; his body pressed firmly against mine. Then he rubs his scruff against mine and nips at my jaw.

“Liz called me your muse,” he murmurs, lips now hovering a whisper away from mine.

I press my forehead to his. “She said the intensity of my feelings for you shines through in every piece. She said it’s the reason people will stop and feel something.”