Page 24 of Manhattan Secret

“What… you can go now, Mister Fierro.”

“It’s Lachlan. You know my name now, Delaney. Or can I call you Laney? It’s cute and suits you.” Doesn’t the arrogant little shit just park his ass on the first-row desk, his long legs brace on the floor in front of him. Today’s ripped jeans have the tear on one knee and the black t-shirt under his hoodie jacket says something about Area 51 in bold red letters.

My heart clatters so hard like a runaway train.

This isn’t happening.

I don’t want a confrontation, more to the point, I can’t handle a confrontation. Under those ocean hued eyes I feel as weak as the mouse he accuses me of being.

He must know I want to avoid this whole conversation.

“How did you know I was here on my first day?” I ask, when he shows no sign of moving his gorgeous self, his stare is intimidating and something else I don’t want to put words to. “You didn’t appear surprised to see me.”

He fires off a half grin, sharp enough I feel it deep in my belly and he rubs a hand on his lips. Lips I know intimately how soft they feel in a hot, demanding kiss. “I saw you in the hallway talking to Kingston. Nearly knocked me sideways.” And then. “I nearly pounced you to the floor and fucked you again just for running out on me.”

My face floods with heat and my brain shuts down.

A gentleman would see my panic and not say a fucking word.

But this is no gentleman. He banged my brains out in public for all to hear. It’s the least gentlemanly thing of all

My cheeks keep on heating until I want to cover them both with my hands.

I should feel ashamed for that, I know. But I still can’t bring myself to think of it as a bad experience, even now with these glaring consequences that can so easily ruin my whole career I’ve worked too damn hard for.

I don’t regret the action, just this disastrous fallout.

“Mister Fierro.”

“Lachlan.” He corrects.

I sigh.Fine.“Lachlan, can we not do this? It serves no purpose. Had I known…”

“Had you known … what?”

Fine. So we are doing this. Trepidation snakes its way through my veins as I face him, remembering every inch of arousal on that same manly face, and in his voice as he held me against the wall.

I coat my voice in firmness and ice cubes. If I can’t feel brave then I can attempt to show it. I have seven—nearly eight years on this boy. So why do I want to wither under his scrutiny?

Some people just have demanding, type A personalities. I’m looking directly at one now.

“What happened, happened. We both see now what a monumental mistake it was.” He doesn’t utter a word to show his disagreement, but both of his eyebrows range down over his eyes and a tick works quickly through his jaw muscle. “I would appreciate it if we could just forget it, Mister… Lachlan, and not mention it to anyone.”

“You want to keep me as your dirty little secret, Laney, hmm?” As firm as his question comes out, the words still sound erotic and a lump forms in my throat.

I need a lobotomy.

I need to get away from Lachlan Fierro’s potency, because a sick veiled sensation of temptation pushes me towards him.

His appeal is more than just the outward aesthetics you first see.

His face is pretty—gorgeous even, no doubt about that and the two-day dusting of facial hair gives him an older quality, probably why I fell into a bathroom stall with him.

Oh, my God. May Joseph and the sheep grant me leniency at the pearly gates for that.

But it’s more than his piercing eyes or the curve of his lips, one a little higher on the left or that one of his teeth is slightly crooked in a charming way. All those details along with his strong frame and capable hands paint a very vivid picture of Lachlan Fierro. It’s the aura around him that’s magnetizing.

It exudes masculinity from every pore. From the way he carries himself, to how he speaks. It pulses out of him in waves, making everyone dance to his silent tune and god help me, I want to dance.

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