Page 94 of Lilah
I hold my head in my hands. He's just made his investigation worse by actually getting me to like him.
Oh gosh, what else have I done that can make me get a longer sentence? Is telling someone they have a small peepee a crime? I'm the worst lawbreaker I've ever met.
I feel him move close to me. He bends down but I keep my head down. His hands come to take mine away from my head before resting on the sides of my face.
"Take me to prison already," I whisper quietly. He doesn't say anything, he just leans forward and presses a soft kiss against my cheek.
He's just making it worse. But please do it again.
He pulls his hands away. Most likely to get the handcuffs now. I get confused when I feel his strong arms lift me up. He turns and sits on the closed toilet seat, before situating me on his lap.
"You're not going anywhere," he mutters.
"So you're turning this store into a prison and this bathroom into my cell?" I sigh.
"At least I have a pooper," I look at the bright side. It's a clean pooper too.
"You haven't done anything," he rests his tattooed hand on my thigh.
"But drugs," I remind him.
"You didn't do drugs," he shakes his head and I narrow my eyes at him.
"How would you know?" I ask a freakingfed.
"Call it intuition," he rolls his gorgeous eyes. Was that sarcasm?
I follow the trail of tattoos up his arm.
"Can you take your shirt off?" I question again and that beautiful smirk appears on his lips once again and I yawn.
All this freaking out has got me tired.
"Let's go to my place," he offers and my eyebrows rise up. Don't have to tell me twice.
~~~
"I'm ready now," I sit on his couch, surprised at how comfy it is. He comes to stand in front of me.
"Why do you want me to?" he questions, gripping the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up to below his belly button. I get eager as heck.
"I'll take mine off," I offer although I won't actually. Well...maybe.
"No you won't," he grumbles, lowering the shirt back down a bit.
"I'll take my pants off," I offer. His eyebrows raise a bit as if considering it but then he shakes his head.
"You won't," he says, lowering it even further a teasing look on his face now.
"I'll," I struggle, "um, um. What do you want?"
"Stay the night."
"Like a sleepover, done deal!" I smile, happy I won't have to go home tonight. His lip turns up at the word 'sleepover.'
"And I need your number," he looks at me, a little smirk on his lips.
"You're a fed, you can figure it out," I tease and his eyes narrow. He lets go of his shirt.
