Page 27 of Manhattan Secret

“You taste beautiful too.”

Wild, manic birds flap their dainty wings through my middle. I want to be anywhere but here at the same time there’s a dark—twisted, sick part of me that’s getting off on being pursued in this way.

My fresh start and new beginning is starting to look like a rancid shitshow.

My eyes stray to his mouth and quickly avert when I see him grinning.

I don’t want to think about his lips touching mine because I already know how good the slight curve to his top lip feels. Soft and firm with enough pressure leaving no doubt it’s Lachlan in charge of the kiss.

It must be some inner, natural selection thing that I can’t control the way I want to let him lead me astray just from the wicked promises in his blue-blue eyes. Survival of the fittest enticing me into gravitating toward the strongest, fittest, most attractive male in the pack who seems most suitable for reproduction of the species.

My attraction in this fraught second has me by the lady balls and I’m terrified of what I might do.

There must be a reason behind why I’m behaving the way I am.

Letting him get away with talking to me like that.

Lachlan Fierro has his own code of conduct.

He fucks women in public restrooms.

He walks around school untouchable.

For all I know, the principal is more likely to get rid of me than Lachlan if I report him for harassment.

“You are aboy, and you have to stop this now,” I issue and watch his face darken, his steps bring him closer, almost touching. “I’m a man, I was a man when I was railing you hard. That’s the only time you get to call me a boy, Delaney.”

Probably the best thing to happen that day is being saved by 11thgraders swarming into the room. I sag with relief, breathing heavily as I watch an amused Lachlan head for the door as if he scents my reprieve.

He stops to slap a boy’s hand. He’s mixed race with lovely cocoa colored skin and dark, shorn hair. Lachlan juts his chin towards me. I blanch instantly. Is he going to tell all? Surely not.

“Thatcher, this is Miss Sloan. The best IT teach you’re ever gonna have. You look after her, hear me?”

Oh. My. God.

The other boy grins and nods his head, pulling off his black hoodie. “Sure thing, Lachie.”

“Catch you later, Miss Sloan.” He announces thickly and when the class are too busy dumping their bags and situating themselves, Lachlan winks at me.

Riots of hot flutters shouldn’t even be what I’m feeling right now.

I finally let my legs crumble as I sit, glancing at the placement sheets for this class, scanning the names I find the smiling boy.

Thatcher Cohen-Hennessy.

It appears Lachlan has set up a new protector for me.

I relax,finally. Feeling like I’ve spent two hours fine-tuned to the max with Lachlan’s hyper gaze trained on me from across the room.

Shedding my moral-less harlot skin, knowing how close I came to kissing Lachlan, I throw myself into being a plain old teacher. Thank god.

It still doesn’t stop me totally wigging out every time I hear a deep rumbly voice in the corridors.

C H A P T E R 8

Delaney

The next few days, taking me to the weekend, go as smoothly as I can possibly want. Lachlan only has one more class with me that week and doesn’t murmur anything inappropriate to me. Though he did lay down a coffee on my desk while everyone is rowdily getting settled before he stalked to his seat.

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