Page 120 of Wicked Rockstar

French toast!

His soft humming made my insides flutter, and when he’d pause to scratch notes in a well-worn black notebook, my pride for him soared. Everything about him was both familiar and foreign. The old memories were melding with the new ones.

He glanced up, his gaze darkening as it traveled from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. If it were any other guy, I’d squirm at the way his eyes lingered on my curves or the way his tongue peeked out to lick at his bottom lip.

Holy baby Jesus.The overt sexuality oozing out of him made me want to pull him back into the bedroom.

Trying to act normal and like I didn’t only think about sex when it came to him, I blurted, “You remembered.” I toed the kitchen floor, conscious of my bare feet and bright sparkly toes contrasting against the black marble.

Killian gave me a slow blink before responding, as though he became lost in the moment, too. He glanced over at the bread on the griddle. “Of course I did. It’s your favorite.”

What he didn’t say or remind me of was the insane number of times the two of us snuck into the kitchen at the group hometo make this same meal. Often, other kids would wander in and Killian would make more.

We felt like a real family sometimes.

Killian set his guitar down and returned to the stove. He flipped French toast onto the two waiting plates and scooped a dollop of butter on top of each. “I was just keeping it warm for us.”

He set the plates on the table. “Good morning, beautiful.” He cupped my cheek and brushed the barest of kisses against my lips before leading me to the table. My mind and body were fully awake now and demanding more of him, in every way.

But we could have breakfast first.

“What time is it?” I eased onto a chair at the table while he poured me coffee. Just like when I was younger, I took a moment to deeply inhale the familiar cinnamon and spice of our breakfast. It was one of the most comforting scents. I cut into my piece and the flavor tingled on my tongue. I closed my eyes and savored it. Why hadn’t I ever learned to make it for myself?

Because it reminded you of him.

Killian grinned as he joined me and took a bite. “Around 11:00 a.m. Good?”

I rolled my eyes at his blatant attempt at him needling me for more praise. “You know it is. I bet you wow all your overnight female guests with this the next day.”

His smile fell and I immediately regretted the comment.

What was I doing?

I didn’t care about his past conquests. Well, not much, so why did I bring it up?

He recovered and his frown turned into a smirk. “Fishing for information, Tink?”

“No.” I stabbed my fork a little too hard into the next bite of French toast, flinching at the scrap of metal against the ceramic plate.

“If you want to know how many women have spent the night here, all you need to do is ask, little fairy.” He’d gone from showing hurt to having way too much fun at my expense.

He could be so infuriating!

As much as I wanted to hear his answer I also didn’t. I might not want to acknowledge why, but the thought of another woman waking up next to him and knowing what number I was in a long line of them made my gut churn.

I chewed the food in my mouth aggressively, refusing to answer.

Killian, the jerk, took a bite and let me sit there suffering.

I hated that he knew it bothered me.

“One.” His single word answer had me snapping my head up.

My brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“As of today, only one woman has slept in my bed.”

I scoffed. He was clearly pulling my leg. “Killian … ”

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