Lilah

Chapter 18: Karma

"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.

Oh, I'm so going to do that more often.

"You liked that way too much," he shakes his head, turning around to look at me.

"It turned me on, bro," I say deeply.

"Don't call me bro."

"Dude," I try and his eyes narrow.

"Dawg," I smirk.

"Fella," I love that one. A dish rag gets thrown in my face, my neck gets kissed, and my butt cheek is slapped off.

It stings like a motherfreaker. It hurt like a buttcheek on a stick.

"I didn't hit you that hard!" I remove the rag from my face, wincing at the pain in my butt.

"I didn't hit you that hard," he rolls his eyes playfully.

I twist my torso, lifting my shorts up. I look at the huge five-star on my butt.

I'm hitting him as hard as I can next time.

"I have a five-star!" I exclaim. Not realizing what I'm doing, I turn around and show him the mark on my cheek.

"I can't see all of it. You should take off your pants so I can," He offers and I consider it before realizing he's teasing.

And I'm wearing a pair of one of a kind peach-colored underwear that tends to ride up my butt. So he's definitely missing out.

"Did you go to college?" I question, changing the subject as my cheeks tinge.