Lilah

Chapter 32: Apples

"I'm looking. You look perfect."

"But nothing like her. And if that's what she's wearing then I can't imagine what other people are wearing. I'm going to look like a saint," I look down at the neckline of my shirt.

"And you are, don't fuckin' forget it Lilah. A child of God," he throws an arm around my neck and pulls my face into his chest. I groan. I think about biting him but I don't.

"You're cute," he tells me. So is he.

"That's the problem," I scrunch the nose.

"Shut up. I'm not done," he says.

"You're cute. You're beautiful, gorgeous, everything great," he leans down closer to me.

"And you're sexy," he throws out the word 'sexy' lazily, lowly, and all with a beautiful smirk on his face.

"That's funny," I snort.

"You make me hard."

"Excuse me sir."

"Who cares what other people think?"

"I don't know."

"You know when we first met?" he questions and I nod, a small smile threatening to break out on my lips.

"When I fell over your foot," I giggle.

"I tripped you," he says and I stop laughing.

"Why in the world? I could have died!" I gasp.

"Dramatic ass," he grumbles.

"Why'd you trip me?"

"Because I thought you were fucking sexy," he smirks. I furrow my eyebrows thinking back to that day.

"I feel slightly like you're fibbing to me. I was wearing cloth shorts, a sweatshirt, and-"

"Flip flops," he finishes, "I know."

"So uh, you're into the homeless-looking type, huh?"

"Kiss my ass," he chuckles, kissing my forehead, "you didn't look homeless."

"You know I had no idea what you looked like? I couldn't see your face or anything," I tell him.

"I could see you. There was a sliver of light that was shining right over you. Damn I wanted to fuck your brains out," he draws out and my eyebrows raise.

"Then you opened your mouth," he says and I narrow my eyes at him.

"But now I love you so it's worked out," he shrugs, "and I still want to fuck your brains out."

He leans down and places his lips on mine, his hands trailing down to my gluteus maximus. I pat both his cheeks, smiling into the kiss.

He sticks his hand up under the back of my dress and he fiddles with the top of my underwear. Just as I'm about to pull away to tell him that he better quit, he grips it firmly and he pulls it up.

A term I learned from the show iCarly flashes in my mind. A freaking Texas Wedgie.

I shoot away from him, gasping.