Page 179 of King of Pain

He pulls back just far enough to search my face. “Having my lips on you every day?”

I nod, and he grins. “Well, get used to it, mister.”

He presses another quick kiss to my lips.

God, I’m done for.

He steps back and opens the fridge.

“So, what are your plans for this beautiful Saturday?” I ask as I hand Guinness his food.

“First,” he says, pulling out a carton of eggs and setting them on the counter, “I’m going to make my man some breakfast.”

That does something to me I can’t even explain.

I beam at him. “I like the sound of that.”

Hestartscrackingeggsintoabowland continuescasually, “After that, I probably should start looking online for a place. My lease is up at the end of next month, and I don’t want to renew. I can afford a better place now, with the promotions and bonuses.”

My stomach drops.

The smile stays on my face, but that little bit of panic slips under my ribs like ice. I change the subject quickly.

“You’ve really moved up fast. You still wanting to open your own agency?”

Ant nods, whisking the eggs. “That’s the plan. It’s still far off, but I want to specialize in representing queer and female athletes. I want my agency to be a fierce advocate in their corner.”

He moves to the cutting board and starts chopping mushrooms. “Meg’s taught me so much, and she has great perspective in that space. I want to use that and build something special.”

My chest warms, despite the nerves rattling underneath. “Any athlete would be lucky to have you fighting for them. That’s a great focus. I don’t imagine there are a lot of agencies doing that.”

Ant Shakes his head. “There’s not. But I don’t want to stop there. I think these athletes can be incredible role models for young people. I want to tie a nonprofit to the agency, something that provides resources for kids who’ve been through it.”

I blink at him.

He glances over and shrugs. “There’s so much focus on getting queer and other at-risk youth out of bad situations. Then what? They’re expected to survive, but no one gives them the tools to actuallythrive. I want to change that.”

Imovebehindhimashestirs eggs in the pan and wrap my arms around his waist. I press my chin on his shoulder and whisper, “Just when I thought my heart couldn’t get any more full of you.”

He drops his head, bashful, and I press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, Anthony Pacini.”

He sets down the knife, spins around, grabs the back of my hair and repeats it with ease and confidence. “I love you too.”

Then he slams his mouth against mine, tongue sliding past my lips knowing he owns them.

Because he does.

I laugh into it and pull back. “Nope. Don’t get started. I’m starving. You need to put fuel in this ride before you take it for another spin.”

He barks a laugh and gives me a playful shove. “Go on. Get out of here,” he says with heat in his eyes. And put a shirt on. You’re distracting.”

I just grin at him, smug.

He snatches a towel from the counter, starts winding it up threateningly.

“Oh shit—” I take off running down the hall laughing as he cracks it in my direction.