Page 126 of Beautiful Scars

“Yeah. Came to show me the wedding favors,” I lie spectacularly, not even missing a beat. Huh...maybe some of his immoral ways are starting to rub off on me. Go figure.

I scoop the last flapjack out of the pan and turn off the gas, sliding the pan off to one side. “Can you make me a cup too, pl—”

Cillian turns to me, and I see two steaming cups in his hands. “What’s that?” he asks, a roguish smile tugging at his lips.

I say nothing, grabbing the flapjacks and turning to put them on the counter.

“We’ll eat out there,” Kill says, pointing with his pinkie as he walks up to me with our coffee. I follow him into the living area, setting the plate of flapjacks down on the low coffee table, a bottle of syrup next to it.

Kill grabs me around the waist and tugs me back. We collapse onto the couch, me squealing like a gutted pig, and him chuckling into my ear. I end up sitting on his knee, pushing hair out of my face as I scowl at him.

“This is going to get messy,” I tell him, glancing at the flapjacks and then back at him. “Syrup drips.”

He nuzzles the side of my neck. “Keep talking dirty to Daddy.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah? Don’t remember you complaining last night.”

“First time for everything,” I say through a laugh, slapping his chest. He groans theatrically and I scoff at him as I lean forward to dish up a flapjack. “Speaking of firsts, where did you have your first kiss?”

When he doesn’t answer immediately, I glance back at him over my shoulder, a flapjack balanced on my palm. It makes no sense, but I swear there’s a flash of guilt in his eyes. I laugh. “It’s okay, I won’t get jealous.”

His face clears, and he gives his head a shake. “I don’t remember.”

“Seriously?” I sit back, leaning against his chest as I bite into my flapjack. “You have to remember your first kiss,” I say through a mouthful of heaven.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” he says, sounding almost serious. Then he shrugs. “You remember yours?”

I cover my mouth to laugh. “Of course. It was fucking horrible.”

He opens his mouth, his eyes going to my flapjack, then back to my face. For a moment, I consider being brutally territorial over my food, but then I break off a small piece and feed it to him, careful not to touch his split lip.

“It was one of my dad’s friend’s sons.” I go to take a bite, but Cillian tilts his head ever so slightly in a warning. So I roll my eyes and break off another piece for him to eat instead so I can tell him the story without getting crapped out again. “Whenever we had a braai—that’s a barbecue for you western hemisphere dwelling folk—he’d invite a shit load of his friends over. Because we had a pool, their kids usually came over too.”

He nods, chews, swallows. I feed him another piece of my quickly disappearing flapjack. Just like I said it would, the syrup starts migrating toward the border of its territory, and I quickly swipe at the edge before it can form a drip.

Managing an unplated flapjack is a skill I’ve mastered over the years.

“Frikkie—” I point at Kill, widening my eyes, “Yes, that’s his real name. He lured me off into the bushes and tried to have his way with me.”

“How old were you?” Cillian asks, and then opens his mouth for more food.

“Old enough,” I say with a sniff, not feeding him until I see where he’s headed with his line of questioning.

All it takes is a quirk of one tyrannical eyebrow before I add, “Twelve. He was ten.”

“Like ’em young, do you?”

My mouth drops open as I let out a scandalized gasp. I ram the flapjack into his mouth, smearing crumbs and syrup all over his lips when he clamps shut his jaw.

He rumbles under me with suppressed laughter as he licks syrup off his lips. “You trying to make me jealous or something?”

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s quite sexy. In a ‘me big caveman’ way.”

“Oh is it?” he asks with a laugh. “Are you alright with me taking a few days to heal before I jump on the plane and punch Fritatta’s cunt in for taking you in the bushes?”

I dart forward, catching up his lips with mine. But just as I deepen the kiss, I feel him wince against me.