Page 124 of Lilah
"You like being called Sugar, don't you?" I tease, placing my toothbrush back after finishing.
He does the same and gives me a side-eyed scowl.
He grips my chin harshly and he kisses me.
My body temperature raises a good ten degrees and my right leg starts wiggling.
He pulls away.
"You like it when I kiss you, don't you?" He teases the same way I did to him and I'm left blubbering.
"I think both of our questions are rhetorical," I lower my voice up at him. His lip curls up into a smirk.
His hand slides to right above my hipbone. He gently squeezes it and I jerk, a squeal leaving my lips.
He covers the last half of the squeal with his lips. His arm goes under my butt and he scoops me up.
He deepens the kiss and I pull away in shock.Woah baby.
"Baby steps," I breathe out, "don't rush into things, okay?"
"I'm sorry, I know better," he kisses the side of my face.
"It's just new, right? I know, it's okay," I assure him, kissing his cheek as he had done to me.
"I can still kiss you?" he questions, his eyes searching mine for an answer. A little smile reaches my lips.
"If I can call you Sugar," I bite my lip, trying not to laugh, "and slap your butt," I blurt.
"Whatever you want," he pulls my bottom lip from my teeth and he leans forward and kisses it.
I swear, he's a very affectionate person and he never knew it. His hands haven't left me all morning.
Heck, I'm not complaining.
~~~
Pancakes? I think yes.
Am I the world's best pancake maker? Absolutely.
Did I have to make them from scratch because Grey has no pancake mix or anything? Yes.
Did that make them any less freaking amazing? Heck no.
I kind of have to fend for myself when I get hungry. Mom doesn't really make any food anymore and dad sure doesn't either.
And I'm not necessarily the richest person; I can't just buy food.
And I can't starve. My appetite needs to be filled because even though I'm not growing, I like to think I am.
"C'mere Bear," I call him over. I feed him one of the smaller pancakes and he eats it without chewing.
Finishing the pancakes on his plate, Grey gets up to put it in the sink. I take that as my chance. I hop out of my seat and CIA-style sneak up to him.
I draw my hand back and just like I told him I would, I slap the booty. And it gets me fired up. I feel pumped up like a football player before a game.
I feel oddly masculine and like if I spoke, my voice would be deeper.
