Page 23 of Manhattan Secret

Tomorrow is a brand-new day.

And she hasn’t seen anything yet.

C H A P T E R 7

Delaney

For an exclusive, state of the art school—with every amenity a human person could want, there are very few places I can go in my downtime to hide away from one blue eyed menace.

It starts with a steaming cup of coffee waiting on my desk with a “Good morning, little mouse.” note hidden underneath, telling me how beautiful I look.

I don’t like that he’s assigned me with a timid endearment.

Wait. I don’t want any endearment from him!Student, remember, Delaney.

My god, I’m going to jail for my thoughts alone.

After a pleasant morning and a nice lunch in the faculty lounge, talking to Margo while I crunch my way through orange chicken salad, all too aware that my next class is my advanced kids. And him.

Once again he’s the last one through the door, sauntering like we are all on Lachlan time. I wait for him to close the door, his eyes burning into me as he smiles and comes to stand at my desk, his back to everyone else.

“No,” I hiss quietly, hoping the boy will just take his seat and we can get through this unpleasantness as fast as possible.

“No, what?” Amused. “Did you like the coffee? I took a stab that you’d want latte.”

“What? Yes, it was fine. No to whatever the coffee means. Please take your seat, Mister Fierro, you’re already five minutes late.”

“You missed me?”

That smirk of his should be registered as a terrorist attack.

I just bet it has girls dropping left and right if aimed at them. As it is, if I look around his wide shoulders, I’ll see every girl staring at his tight ass.

Oh, my god. That meant I’ve noticed his tight ass too.

“Sit.” I issue quietly. “Please.”

“Because you asked so nicely.” The little shit winks at me.

Surprisingly, the rest of the class goes fine.

Some of the students even engage when I fire off questions to them. Impressing me immensely by their knowledge. By the end of the double lesson I’ve relaxed to the point that when the students start to pour out of the room at the sound of the bell, I’ve forgotten… mostly forgotten all about the silently tormenting boy at the back, until he heads for the door without a word to me, my breath comes out relieved and oddly…disappointed.

Shit, I want him to talk to me, don’t I? I want that hot blue gaze all over me.

No matter how wrong it is.

And it’s utterly, completely, prison wing B kind of wrong.

Once I’ve gotten over my stunned surprise over yesterday, it doesn’t take but a minute for me to frantically search the schoolteacher database to look up Lachlan’s age. The relief to find out he’s actually eighteen, nearly nineteen before the semester ends, is immense.

I’m not a criminal after all.

Just hold questionable morals for being attracted to a student.

I glance up from packing my papers and notebooks away to find the room not so empty as I thought, Lachlan striding back to my desk.

He’s closed us into the classroom!

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