Page 117 of Manhattan Secret

“What do you care?” I fire his own words back at him, “what are you even doing out here? Don’t keep your girls waiting, it’s not polite to leave before the sex is over.”

The very idea of him smelling of a girl and touching someone else in the same reverent, possessive way he owns my body has me almost doubled over sick again.

I can’t stand it.

He strides across the street with me in his arms, opening the door to his Escalade and nearly throws me into the passenger seat, stalking around the front he climbs in with a slam, starting the engine without giving me a glance.

The muscles in his jaw tightens the same way his fingers clasp the wheel.

“Where are you staying?”

“Hell.”

“Laney!” He growls.

“The motel just down there on the right. I walked here.”

“How long have you been here?” He grates out.

I shrink back from his tone. “I arrived late last night.”

He fires me a stare. “And you’re just telling me this now?”

“Would I have been any more welcome than I am today? I sent text messages the whole drive here asking if we could talk. You ignored them. I’m probably blocked.”

“So you still came…”

“Yeah, I still came.”

He stays silent and we are at the motel within two minutes.

I hop out and feel my legs give under me.

Lachlan curses in his dark voice and is at my side sweeping me up. “I’m fine, you can leave me here,” I tell him, staring at the face that makes my heart jump. Hands creep around his neck and I hold on, praying to see my sweet man again.

Bottomless eyes pin mine and I shiver. “Which room is yours?”

His tone is sandpaper over my skin. Both pain and pleasure at being so close.

I’ll take anything at this point, pathetic as it makes me.

“Room 312 up the stairs. The blue door.”

He strides up the stairs holding me effortlessly, only dropping me to my feet so I can unlock the door. I assume he’ll leave me there, but he follows me in.

“When did you last eat?”

I shrug, tossing my keys on the unmade bed his eyes stray to. “I don’t know.”

“Goddammit, Laney, when?”

“Yesterday breakfast.” I was too nervous to eat on the drive.

My mouth tastes like vomit and I have the cold sweats.

Expecting him to turn on his heel and leave, I go through to the bathroom to rinse my mouth; I ditch my clothes as I brush my teeth vigorously. When I turn around, Lachie is standing stock still watching me. His eyes slide down to my inner thighs where the wetness is still on my skin and for a second, there’s a flash of the sweet rogue who loved me.

It’s only as I inhale hard from arousal and take a step towards him, that he turns and slams the door behind him.

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