The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 90

Chapter 90: 90 | After Last Night

"What happens after we get into Halloran?" she asked suddenly.

Lukas glanced over his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"I mean us. What happens with us?" Sloane fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

"We figure it out." He flipped a pancake with casual confidence. "Same as we’re doing now."

"That’s it? ’We figure it out’? That’s your big plan?"

"Sloane." Lukas put down the spatula and turned to face her. "We’ve known each other nine years. We live in the same house. We train together every day. We just spent last night discovering exactly how compatible we are." His lips quirked into a smile at that last part. "I’m not worried about Halloran changing anything."

"But—"

"Do you want things to change?"

"No! Of course not." The words came out too fast, too loud.

"Then they won’t." Lukas turned back to the stove, his shoulders relaxed, his tone carrying the kind of certainty that made doubt feel ridiculous. "We’ll train. We’ll study. We’ll kick ass. Besides, there’s a chance we get into the same class anyways."

Simple. As if anything about their situation was simple. But standing there in her kitchen, watching him make breakfast like they’d been doing this for years instead of having crossed this line just yesterday, Sloane found herself believing him.

A plate landed in front of her, radiating warmth. The pancakes were golden, crowned with sliced strawberries that bled crimson into the pools of maple syrup. The sweet scent mingled with the smell of brewing coffee.

"Eat," Lukas said, his voice a low rumble. "You earned it."

"You’re impossible." She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

"That’s not what you said in the shower," Lukas said, cutting into his own stack with the kind of casual precision that suggested he was enjoying himself. "Pretty sure your exact words were something along the lines of—"

Sloane grabbed a strawberry from her plate and threw it at him. "I will end you, Belmont."

The projectile bounced off his chest. He caught it on the rebound, popped it into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. "Again, those weren’t the words you were using last night. I seem to remember a very different—"

"I’m trying to eat here!" She felt her face burning but couldn’t help laughing. "You’re such a jerk."

"A jerk who makes amazing pancakes." He sat beside her with his own plate. "Admit it."

She took a bite and made an exaggerated moan of pleasure. "Fine. The pancakes are good. Happy?"

"Getting there." His knee bumped against hers under the table, lingering with deliberate pressure.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Sloane found her mind wandering back to the night before, to the feeling of his weight on top of her, to the sounds he made when he came inside her. Her body warmed at the memory.

He’d been her first. She knew without asking that she hadn’t been his—he’d been too confident, too skilled for that.

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