Page 36 of Manhattan Secret
I don’t question how he’s gotten my number—it’s quite clear from his troubled school records that the little punk has hacked to get it.
My panicked gaze clears enough to bring him into sharp, amazing focus.
To witness how serious Lachlan is.
Daring me to deny him.
Hard to swallow. Hard to breathe. It’s anyone’s guess how I get through the last twenty minutes of class.
Everyone files out as a mass group, collecting their homework from me.
Leaving only Lachlan in his sprawled state at the back.
No one’s ever talked to me the way he does.
Completely direct and aware of what turns me on with just a few choice words. I think my last boyfriend would have had a conniption had he tried to dirty talk. He was astraight to bed at nine o’ clock, to be alert the next daykind of guy.
The type who only wanted sex on a weekend.
I didn’t mind so much, that should have been a giant clue we were far from compatible sexual wise, but Brian was good company, so we trudged along in that relationship far too long. I haven’t thought about him in forever, and now I wonder if he found someone who knocks him off his feet, who causes loss of feeling in his body, like Lachlan does mine.
Maybe I’ll look him up on social media later. We didn’t part on bad terms.
Boring Brian is looking more and more appealing as I glance at the man-boy eating me up with his eyes while I try andfailto keep my heart rate under a million beats per second.
“You can’t text me things like that, Lachlan.”
He moves. A swift shift of bones bringing him down the aisle of desks like a prowling pirate intent on pillaging everything in sight.
“That assclown wants to get into your panties.”
“Stop.”
“Does he know how quickly you go up in flames?”
My pulse races frantically.
My hands shaking at my sides, fighting against reaching out to touch his face, etched in leashed anger.
“Lachlan, stop.”
“I bet he has no idea how tight that little pussy strangles a dick when you come.”
God in heaven. I’m going to faint.
Nothing that vulgar should ever turn me on.
Then why do my panties feel damp?
Why is my clit pulsing—aching for his fingers?
I take full responsibility of knowing I ought to be utterly embarrassed and scandalized. I’ve chosen one of the biggest playboys on campus to have a stupid crush on. Iamhorrified at myself, at my lack of control for how many times he steals into my thoughts.
All the hot, flattering glances he gives me keep choking out my honorable intentions, because I’mentirelythrilled that Lachlan Fierro, the guy who turns me on like no one else, gives me his undivided attention…all be it disturbing to my body and you know… my code of ethics—those pesky little soul-destroying things. He can have any girl in school, I don’t want to know the number he’s had already. I’m taking a stabbing guess any girl in the whole of Manhattan—prettier, younger, and more stylish with a personalitymuch livelier than mine.
But this is too dangerous. It’s a cocktail of hypnotic drugs flowing through my blood and I’m teetering on the edge of a high so great I might die.
And I don’t care.
