Page 60 of Manhattan Secret
He makes me laugh and smile and his mind is so vast I sometimes sit in awe of how intelligent he really is. If not for being awkward, I might have called up his parents to let them know how proud of him they should be.
Our conversations are long and varied. So are our dates we’ve sneaked around to have in little hole in the wall places.
All of the secrecy only adds to the spice and I hate that I love it.
“Come to my parents for dinner,” he suggested several days ago.
“Are you insane?”
“You’ll have to meet them sometime.”
No, I don’t.
Lachie treats our relationship like it has legs to go further than the summer, and being weak and my feelings engaged with him, I don’t know how to tell him we have an expiry date fast approaching.
He’s going onto his next life chapter; he doesn’t need to do it with a long-distance girlfriend. Those never last.
I’d rather spend these few weeks being happy knowing we have something amazing, so that in years to come I’ll smile about the crazy, arrogant boy who pursued me.
Lachlan is on my doorstep again waiting when I get home. With a bag of groceries at his feet, he stands with it in his arms.
“I told you not to get food again.”
“You only have that healthy shit.”
“You can’t live on hot dogs all your life.” I tease, not giving a flip about my neighbors seeing me lift my face up for his kiss. They don’t know me. They don’t know Lachlan. I feel free—normal standing on my doorstep making out with a gorgeous man, no doubt holding a bag full of chips and salsa.
How he has a body like he does is beyond me, because he lives on junk. Goddamn his fast teen metabolism. What I wouldn’t give to eat a pint of ice cream and not put on ten pounds.
“Get inside, mouse. I’ve pictured you on your knees sliding those glossy lips around my cock all day.” There’s no eligible words I can say when he comes up flush against my body, pressing me into the door, the knocker making an imprint on my spine. He cups my cheek to tip up my face, letting me see his smoky-eyed arousal.
This time his kiss is sweet and sensual—almost setting the tips of my hair on fire. The Fierro boy is more intoxicating than a 151-proof rum.
My lids are too heavy to stay open, I let them drop as he tastes me tenderly. “Fuck, you go up like fire even with a kiss.”
“Guess I like you.”
“Fuck, yeah, you do. Let’s go out tonight. To celebrate.”
Inside, I turn a curious glance as he follows behind me through the bungalow. He’s here more often than not, and I wonder if his parents mind him being away from home, he’s told me more than once they trust him. It’s just one more thing I can feel guilty over.
“What are we celebrating?”
“The fact you’re no longer fucking your student,” the arrogant boy dares smirk.
He both annoys me and turns me on.
Taking the brown sack out of his arms, I dump it on the kitchen counter and face him, licking my lower lip, watching his eyes follow the motion.
“Unzip your pants.”
No questions, typical of Lachie when his dick is concerned.
He grins wide and goes at his jeans. “Fuck yeah.”
“That’ll do,” I say when he has them open and the denim pulled aside, showing already he’s hard inside of his shorts.
Most often than not, Lachlan is the instigator for sex, I love where he takes me, how controlling he is in and out of the bedroom, damn me for loving it. But sometimes I like to surprise him and watch how he falls apart.
