Page 18 of Beastly Mr. Buchanan
“Then let me see,” he challenges.
My heart pounds in my ears.I’m not sure if I’ll die of mortification or unsatisfied lust if Declan Buchanan, the only man to ever make me wet, strips me and studies my naked body.Hell, even just exposing my flabby limbs is too much.
Either way, the outcome is death, so…
“His name is Brad and he is not my boyfriend,” I snap.
He quirks a brow but otherwise doesn’t respond.
“There, I told you.Now let me go,” I huff.
“You haven’t told me anything,” he says.
The resolution in his slate-grey eyes is mesmerizingly terrifying.
“I gave you his name!That’s all you asked for,” I insist.
His chuckle shifts me around on his lap.I fight a wave of hunger and fear as his massive cock rubs against my ass.
“Unless you want me taking care of every Brad in New York City, I suggest you be a little more specific,” he murmurs.
I flick skeptical eyes from his face to the hand he placed on my knee.Certainty lands like a stone in my guts.
He would kill for me.In fact, mass murder isn’t off the list, either.Unease creeps through me.
The icy emptiness of death lurks in his gaze.
“I…”
I don’t know how to respond.
“If that’s too much, then how about explaining who he is to you?”
For a moment, I can’t make sense of his odd choice of words, but he makes himself crystal clear when he asks, “Is he boy toy number one or two?”
I jolt as though zapped by static electricity.
Shit.He heard my phone call with Matthew.I can’t deny those names are in my phone, but I also can’t explain they don’t mean what he thinks they mean without exposing my lie of having a boyfriend.
“No, he’s neither of those.Brad is my new roommate.I mean, hewasmy new roommate.I won’t go back there again,” I nearly fumble my words in my haste but manage to string the thoughts into a coherent sentence.
“You’re lying again,” Declan says.
“I’m not!I just moved in the day before yesterday.He was supposed to be asexual but—”
I gasp as he tightens his arm around me, grabs the hem of my skirt, and lifts it onto my thighs.With my heart in my throat and warmth flooding my panties, I pin the fabric down and clamp my knees together.
“Stop!What are youdoing?”I shriek when he reaches for my wrists.
“Show me,” he snarls.
“Show you what?”
“Where he hurt you,” he growls.
Understanding dawns, and a small part of me rejoices over his concern even as my brain provides all the reasons he’s no better than Brad.
Except, on a cellular level, I know that’s a lie.Declan hasn’t hurt me.Ever.Not physically, at least.
