Anti-Hero (Wild Heart Ranch Book 4)
Anti-Hero: Chapter 12

“Why are you in such a bad mood?” Ant asks as he changes out of his school-girl gear.

We’re back in Hopper’s apartment, and I’ve been biting my tongue the entire ride back, so I let him have it.

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“I don’t like how hectic that was. We barely had time to talk in the bar before Hopper dragged you upstairs as bait in a room with eight child predators. Nothing about that felt safe.”

Ant, down to the world’s smallest pair of lime-green boxer briefs, puts his hand on my arm. “Erik, it was planned out. Me and Hopper have been discussing it for weeks. It was all laid out in the notes I gave you for each location.”

“No. The original plan was in the notes. The whole cocks out thing? Not in the plan!”

He arches his brow at me. “We already told you it was a last-minute addition. Weren’t you the one who told me I should leave room for flexibility?”

“Not about this,” I say, pounding the side of my fist on the kitchen island. “It happened way too fast, and the whole thing would have fallen apart if any one of those men had, I dunno, removed his mask? It’s not like any of those guys think the rules apply to them. And God, the cleanup…”

Ant lets out a patient breath. “Here’s the thing. We had to kill them efficiently and with as little drama as possible. So we kept it simple. Things go to hell when we get elaborate, so we just made it a game.

“As for the cleanup, save for Park Avenue, there was hardly any blood. Hop killed seven guys in under a minute and most were dead before they hit the ground. We ruined a couch and a rug, and those were being thrown out anyway.”

“Liam found Park Avenue’s pinky in the tub!”

“Hey! I got, like, ninety percent of him on the plastic sheeting. It was fine.”

“It was not fine. It was sloppy. Also, you still haven’t told me how you’re going to explain away eight missing bodies.”

“It’s in the notes, Erik. I don’t know how many other ways I can say those exact words. Park Avenue is going into the Hudson with evidence he was killed by the child trafficker he liked using.”

“Oh,” I say, pulling up short. “That’s really smart. Puts authorities on the trail of the trafficker.”

Ant raises his brows. Fuck, he’s so beautiful.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just think there was a better way to do some of that.”

He shakes his head, bending to grab something from his bag. “I swear the mayor of Boca is going to send you a key to the city any minute now.”

I rip my eyes from his adorable ass. “Hey! Stop calling me old. I’m not old. I just like things to be done in a certain way.”

He sends me another scathing look. “I know, but this is my op. I liked working with Hopper because he’s fun and knows how to enjoy a murder. Unlike some people who suck the joy out of things,” he tosses over his shoulder as he walks into the bathroom.

I come up with a few other salient points, but he’s already got the shower going. While he’s wet and naked a mere five feet away, I pull up my email again to go through the notes he sent me. This time I do a thorough read-through, and it doesn’t take long to see what a freaking genius he is.

While I gaze up at Hopper’s art, I wonder if I can convince Ant to put on real pants again and go for a walk with me after his shower. Maybe we can pick up dinner somewhere on the way—there are a lot of small romantic restaurants in the area. I bet Ryder could get us a reservation…

My reverie is interrupted by the sound of the water being turned off. I grab my change of clothes from my bag, readying for my turn, when he exits the bathroom wearing only a towel. Struggling to keep my eyes to myself, I hurry past him into the bathroom and shut the door just as he’s shucking it off.

I keep my shower short and efficient, then get dressed in the bathroom. I fucking hate the feeling of clothing stuck to wet skin, but I can’t take any chances. I walk out, toweling off my hair, and Ant is sitting at the bar, wearing only short white shorts, concentrating on his phone. Feeling nosy, I walk up behind him and immediately regret it.

“I thought you agreed not to use the apps.”

He lets his phone drop forward and looks back at me with that Ant expression. “For murders. I’m not supposed to use the apps for murders. I can, however, use them to get laid.”

“Absolutely not,” I say, grabbing his phone from him.

He snarls and rips the phone out of my hands. “I’m going to say this exactly once, Erik, and then never again. Full control of my sex life is really fucking important to someone like me.”

Oh.

Shit.

“I’m…ah, fuck. I’m so sorry, Ant. I just…it worries the shit out of me, the thought of you going out there.”

Also, I am full of inconvenient feelings for you, so if you would not fuck someone else while I figure my shit out, that would be awesome. Thanks.

He quirks his brow at me. “I’m sorry, but all the murdering gets me horny. Just a bit of whimsy from my many years of trauma.” He returns his focus to the screen, scrolling through man after man. He spares me another sharp look before continuing, “And I’m not using an app. Hopper sent me Luca’s roster and said they were all incredibly sweet and fully vetted.”

I continue to rub the towel over my hair, trying to…I dunno. Square this circle. When I talked to Charlie, I wanted to be a little more cautious. Take things slow. Get through the rest of the trip and then explore what we can be.

Maybe take that word-slash-feeling out for a spin in my head a few more times.

I suppose if the conversation with Charlie hadn’t been like an atom bomb going off in the center of me, if I had any shred of equilibrium left, I could just admit to the strong feelings I have for Ant and then ask him not to go with one of Luca’s guys.

But I’d be one helluva hypocrite to try to convince him not to go with one of Luca’s guys when I’ve indulged with some of those same men. Especially since I have no claim on him.

Tossing the towel aside, I run my hand through my still-damp hair. I need to step back and stop putting my nose where it doesn’t belong. I need to…fuck…I need to let this happen, even if it makes me want to punch a wall.

I sit with that sentiment for exactly point two seconds, and…yeah, fuck that.

I don’t give a shit if it makes me a hypocrite. I don’t care if they’re blessed by the Pope himself. Luca’s sexy, sweet guys don’t have the right to put their grubby fingerprints on him. They don’t know his story. They don’t know how careful they need to be with him. Honestly, I’d rather—

My brain goes dead quiet for a solid ten-count.

Yeah, not going to finish that sentence.

“What’s this look?” Ant asks, hopping off the barstool to push against my chest with the tip of his finger. “It’s like your operating system just rebooted in the middle of a thought.”

His luminous eyes hold worry and mischief. It’s been a long day, and my eye falls to the five o’clock shadow on his jawline. The prominent Adam’s apple. His small but masculine hands. The toned muscles of his forearms.

Finally, my eyes land on his stupidly stupid short shorts. Seriously, fuck Luca’s boys. No, actually…

“Fuck me,” I say, the words falling out of my mouth before I have a chance to filter them.

Frustration curls his lip. “This isn’t about you, Erik. This is about me, and I’m finally getting laid one way or another,” he says, pulling up Luca’s list again.

I place my palm over his phone, loving how my hand dwarfs his.

“I do want you to get what you need. I’m not saying fuck me like a curse. I’m saying fuck me. Do that with me. Take what you need from me.”

He pulls his chin back and looks at me with such incredulity I wonder if I haven’t fucked up our friendship. Brotherhood?

Yeah, no. We are definitely not brothers.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks, skimming his fingers along my forearms.

That’s not what I meant, but I can’t think with his fingers on my skin. I stifle a shiver and try to appear casual. “Sure. We’re adults. We can do that.”

He narrows his eyes. “You do realize you included me in the ‘we’re adults’ part of your little sentence there, right?”

I cup his face, tilting it so he’s looking directly at me. Amused defiance lights his pretty eyes, and my face goes hot.

“Aren’t you a top?” he asks carefully, letting his fingernails drift over my palms.

“Uh, mostly,” I say, feeling a little lost. “…if you’re vers or prefer to top after everything, I won’t limit you. Or if you’re more of a side, that’s cool too. I mean—”

He grabs my hand and kisses the palm before sending me a tiny smile. “I don’t need you to try to guess what my sexual needs are, Erik. I’m like anyone else. Just fucking ask.”

I inhale sharply. “Okay, then. Ant, do you want to have sex with me, and if so, do you want to top me?”

I have never let another man fuck me, and until this second, I never had any intention of changing that. But I’ll do whatever it takes to make him want to fuck me instead of, well, anyone else.

Oh God.

Charlie might’ve been right.

I’m willing to do that because the thought of anyone else touching him doesn’t just make me see red. It physically hurts.

Slowly, his eyes come back to mine, and my first thought is he’s so fucking handsome. Oof. There’s that feeling again. Heat. All over. Everywhere.

And a bone-deep need to please and protect him in equal measure.

“I don’t, actually.”

My heart drops to my stomach, and I step back. “You don’t want to have sex with me?”

He rolls his eyes and uncurls himself from the barstool, stepping toward me. “Of course I want to have sex with you, you big fucking tree. I just don’t want to top you.”

“So, you want me to top,” I say, needing to be extra sure.

His breathing hitches and the bulge in his shorts swells. “Yeah. I think I’d like that a lot.”

The stress in my shoulders finally fucking unclenches. I’ve been short-circuiting this entire day, and I’m fucking relieved that I don’t have to add bottoming for the first time to all of that.

“I tend to get a bit…directive…in the heat of the moment. I don’t have to though—”

He holds up his hand. “I suspected as much. I trust you to stop if I end up not liking it.”

“Okay, then…” I take a breath, looking around Hopper’s apartment, making sure this isn’t some rip in the space-time continuum. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

He grins and pushes past me as his tiny shorts go flying, landing on one of Hopper’s paintings. No underwear, just his adorably round little butt bouncing as he makes his way to the bed.

And those goddamn dimples.

Oh shit. We’re really going to do this.

Reaching for my collar, I pull my shirt over my head and shake out my hair. I grab my overnight bag, finding the lube and condoms I keep stashed in the inner pocket. Tossing them on the bed, I lower my jeans and underwear in one go, stepping out of them.

In the meantime, Ant has done exactly as I’ve asked. He’s naked—so fucking naked—and he’s on his hands and knees, head dropped forward as his body sways.

My cock rouses at the sight of all his smooth brown skin contrasting the pale soles of his feet. He peeks over his shoulder, likely wondering why the fuck I’m hesitating, and the mischievous look is back in his eye. He wiggles his ass at me, and my feet start moving.

I get on the bed behind him, knee-walking in between his thighs. My hands go to his back, and the feel of his plush, soft skin beneath my palms is utterly sensual. I grip his hips, squeezing, pushing him back and forth, imagining what it’ll be like to impale him on my cock.

There’s no question it’ll be an impalement. As I stroke myself to full length, I worry my dick could hit his rib cage if I’m not careful.

He peeks over his shoulder again, his hips swaying. My hand falls to his ass, and I cup the perfect tiny-but-plump cheek. Grabbing the lube, I warm some up in my hands, then pull his cheek to the side, admiring the sparse fan of dark hair as I swipe my thumb over his sweet little hole.

He drops his head down, breathing heavily, pushing back against me. For over a year now, I haven’t wanted to think of Ant this way because so many people did that against his will, and I was not going to be one of those people.

To be invited to view him this way, though? That’s something else.

Lazily swirling my thumb over the sensitive, puckered skin, I press gently. Before I can push inside him, however, he stiffens.

I pull away. “Ant?”

He takes another big breath and cants to his side, landing on his hip. “Dammit,” he says, avoiding my eyes. “This isn’t going to work.”

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