Page 128 of King of Pain

I’m going to fight for them. For him. When he finally knows the truth, Ant will understand that everything I did was for him. He has to. But if he doesn’t—if this is beyond repair—I won’t stand in his way. I won’t hold him back from the life he deserves. Even if that life doesn’t include me.

The machine beeps, pulling me from my thoughts. I grab my phone off the counter while the coffee drips into my mug and smirk as I remember the moment Murph handed it to me when I left the cabin. He decided to surprise me and fly out to the cabinand make the trek with me back to Phoenix. His sister lives here now, so it was a good excuse to check on her.

“Welcome back to the twenty-first century, caveman,” he had joked, tossing it at me after I finished saying goodbye to Vinnie.

I swipe up and open my messages, my eyes landing on the text I sent myself from Ant’s phone last night.

Smugness lines the smile that tugs at my lips as I type out a message.

Good morning, Beautiful.

I set my phone down and grab the cream and drop a splash in my coffee before taking a slow sip.

Then I pick the phone back up and type again.

You may not be ready, and you can ignore me, but now that I'm able to, I'm going to text you good morning and goodnight every single day. And I'll never stop calling you Beautiful. Deal with it.

I hit send and take another drink, the warmth of the coffee doing little to ease the want still coiled inside me.

Fuck it.

I can’t help myself.

I type one more message.

You're even more beautiful now, you know that? It was always hard to breathe in your presence. But last night? Seeing you again? It threatened to suffocate me completely, Ant.

I exhale slowly, my fingers tapping against the mug as I stare at the screen.

Then I lock my phone and set it down before I text him again.

I lean against the counter and let my mind drift back to last night.

He was always beautiful. But last night?Fuck. It wasn’t just that he was a little older—it was the way he carried himself now. There was a confidence, a self-assurance in the way he stood, inthe way he spoke. Even in his anger, he had this controlled fire, this presence that demanded attention. And hewore it well.

And his body? Jesus fucking Christ.

I figured he would’ve kept in shape—he was a college athlete, after all. But he wasn’t playing football anymore, and yet somehow, he lookedbetter. More defined. More powerful. His muscles were fuckingeverywhere. Broad shoulders, thick biceps stretching against his sleeves, that tapered waist, those long, sculpted legs.

And let’s not forget those hazel eyes with flecks of kryptonite that emit a million emotions with one glance. It’s my undoing every time I look into them.

I smirk to myself.He’s definitely been hitting the gym hard.

Which reminds me—I need to do the same.

Three years in isolation gave me plenty of time to work out, and with nothing but the mountain and manual labor as my equipment, I packed on more muscle than I ever had before. But if I don’t get back into a proper routine, I’ll lose all of it. And there’s no fuckingwayI’m letting that happen. Not when I know exactly how much Ant loves my ass and thighs.

A sharp exhale passes my lips as heat flares low in my stomach.

Not the time for that, Sullivan.

But fuck Iwanthis hands on my ass again. And Ineedhis cock inside me finally.

Shaking off the thoughts before I spiral too hard, I finish my coffee and head to the bedroom. Digging through my drawers, I pull out a fitted tank and some gym shorts, the kind that ride up just enough to show offexactlywhere I want Ant’s hands.

I smirk at myself in the mirror.

Manifestation is real, right?