Page 69 of Lilah
"You don't want it?" he questions and I shake my head. Finally, he takes it. I watch his lips as he takes a sip, gauging his reaction.
He doesn't say anything but he keeps drinking. I knew he'd like it.
"Your chefs makes really good waffles," I say out of the blue as he picks up a pen and begins writing more on what looks like a form or something.
"Your waiter fella out there got me so fired up you don't even know. He never gave me my sweet tea.Andhe had theaudacity," I speak every syllable of the last word.
"To say that I had no boobs."
He turns back to me. I watch as his eyes fall on my chesticles. After quite a while of him just looking at them, his eyes find mine again.
He raises a single eyebrow.
"He lied."
My heart flutters and I nearly fan myself.
"Why was he looking?" his head tilts, and I notice how his fingers crack when he balls them into fists.
"You've got me on that," I shrug, "he's probably just looking at what he could never have."
"Damn right," he mutters, his eyes lighter than before.
"I told him he had a small peepee," I hold my chin up proudly. The corners of his mouth rise.
I made him smile a little.
I feel my heart swell.
He leans forward, cutting my thoughts off by grabbing both armrests of my chair and dragging me until I'm right in front of him.
"Next time come get me," he grumbles lowly and I nod, my eyes set in on his lips. No romantic thoughts.
He pulls my chair even closer before his arms wrap around my waist pulling me to the edge of my chair.
"Friends, Grey," I whisper.
"Do you always stare at your friends' lips?" he questions back and my eyes dart to his dark ones.
My imaginary friends don't even have lips. They talk with their feet.
"Y-Yes," I stutter and his eyes darken as his eyebrows furrow into a little scowl. His jaw clenches and I figure that the answer I gave him was not one he wanted to hear.
His tattooed hand comes to rest on my cheek. He leans closer to me and my eyes flutter as he presses his lips against the opposite cheek, his hand pressing my face closer to his lips.
He pulls away and looks at me.
"Was that good?" he questions genuinely. I give him a soft smile.
He's actually sweet when he's not glaring at me. Gathering my courage, I straighten my torso and lean up to him.
I place my hand on his cheek, just as he did to me. I press my lip against his opposite cheek, pushing his face closer to my lips with my hand.
Good gosh he smells like heaven.
My heart speeds up as I pull away and meet his eyes.
"Was that okay?" I question him and hardly any time passes before he's nodding, his eyes trained on my lips.
