Page 232 of King of Pain
Chance hums, the sound low and content, and I keep going, heart pounding slow and sure. “Everything happened fast. With the agency, with Thrive. We had to make decisions, fast ones. Especially with Lexi and Beau’s timeline to start their family after his retirement next year.”
Chance’s voice is soft. “Do you feel rushed?”
I laugh, warm and easy. “Not even a little. It feels right.”
He lets out a pleased noise, and I press a kiss behind his ear before saying, “My point is, we never really stopped to think about it. It was just... a given. For me, at least.”
Chance’s only reply is a soft, teasing “Mm.”
I sit up straighter, suspicious. “Wait, do you not want to get married? Because if you think I’m gonna let you drop our kids off at school looking likethatwithout my ring on your finger, you’ve gone and bumped your head, Sullivan.”
The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a grin. “Mm,” he says again.
I huff out an annoyed laugh and settle back down behind him, curling tight, and just as I close my eyes, I hear:
“Hey, Beautiful?”
I groan playfully. “Yeah?”
“Will you fluff my pillow for me?”
I lift my head, frowning. “What? Why?”
“Wore me out. Too tired. It’s not comfy.”
I scoff and reach out, grumbling as I push at his pillow.
“You can do better than that,” he teases. “Hand under it. Fluff from underneath.”
Rolling my eyes, I lean up, grunting at him, and reach under the pillow—only to feel something hard, unfamiliar. I pause, grip it, and pull it out.
A small black velvet box.
My pulse races as I rise to my knees, staring at it. “What’s this?”
Chance flips over to face me, resting on his elbow, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Dunno. Maybe you should open it.”
I swallow, fingers clumsy, and crack the box open. Inside sits a wide silver band, gleaming and simple, but beautiful. I pluck it out and catch the faint engraving on the inside.My muse.
I look up, and Chance is on his knees now too. He cradles my face in his hands.
“If you think I’m letting you goanywherewithout my ring on your finger,” he says, voice low and sure, “you’ve bumped your head harder than me.”
A laugh sputters out of me, shaky and wet.
"Beautiful, you’re like a mixtape the universe made just for me," he says, his gaze pinning mine in place. "Every one of your different smiles, the way your eyes see through to every part of me. Those lips. My God, those lips." His voice softens, pure affection threading through. "All your little quirks. The way you sigh when you’re concentrating too hard."
Then he drops his voice low, teasing, "Your dick," and waggles his brows with a grin as I bark a laugh.
"But mostly..." His hand comes to rest over my chest, steady and warm. "Mostly, it’s your heart." He moves his hand to gently cradle my cheek, thumb brushing over my skin. "Every single one of these parts of you, Ant—they're all my favorite songs."
Fuck. Me.
I can’t form words.
Chance takes the ring from me—eyes locked on mine. “Now, can I put this on your finger or what?”
I nod fast, grinning through the sting in my eyes.
