Filthy Foreign Exchange Book 2

by S. E. Hall

  “It’s okay, I get it,” he says somewhat insincerely, chuckling. “But I don’t see him taking care of it, and I didn’t want you to miss your moment. You deserve these moments, Echo—don’t settle for anything less. No hard feelings?”

  “None.” I smile. Threesome, schmeesome. He really is a nice guy. “Thank you, Chad.”

  “No need to thank me—it didn’t work.” He laughs again in an attempt to ease the tension, but it’s choppy, and actually makes things more awkward.

  “I’ll, uh…just see you downstairs,” he manages after clearing his throat.

  “Okay.”

  “Will you be all right up here, alone?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I answer easily, because every nerve in my body and stutter in my heartbeat has already alerted me I won’t be alone.

  When I’m sure Chad’s gone and my mask of indifference is firmly in place, I turn and seek him out. He’s all but out of sight, waiting over in a corner.

  The second our eyes connect, he slowly raises one hand, beckoning me to him with a crook of his finger.

  I hesitate, and he grins, sexy and sure, arching his eyebrows in challenge. He and I both know I’m going over there. I’m just trying to save some dignity by not running.

  I start forward at what I’m praying is a leisurely pace as he devours my every move. I can hear my heartbeat now, a tumultuous pounding in my ears that only gets louder as my excitement grows with every step I take.

  “Disappointed?” he asks with smug confidence.

  “About?” I mutter too quickly…too transparently.

  His deep laugh slashes through the air.

  “You know exactly what—and we both know the answer is yes.”

  The sexual magnetism between us is thick. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me to him, breaking the silence with a hoarse whisper.

  “My sentimental, romantic Echo isn’t wearing the look of a woman who just got the kiss she’s always dreamed of—pictured a million times.”

  He lets his gaze roam over me, slow and seductive, then stares right into my eyes and demands, in growled authority, “Wipe it off.”

  “Wh-what?” I stammer breathlessly.

  He tugs me closer—hard. Our bodies are now fused together.

  “Wipe. It. Off,” he repeats. “Get him off your lips—my lips—and swear to me you’ll never think of kissing him again. Because knowing you didn’t want or like it, and will easily forget it, is the only thing stopping me from beating the bloody piss out of him right now.”

  I’m stunned silent, scrambling for something to say, but finding nothing. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest, the tightening of his grip on my hips, and the barely contained possessiveness rolling off him in angry waves.

  It’s primitive, and I might think chauvinistic…if it didn’t make me feel claimed and adored—truly, wholly wanted.

  So I hold his stare, returning the longing therein, and reach up to wipe my hand across my mouth slowly. Any kiss aside from those I’ve shared with Kingston is already long forgotten.

  One arm encircles my waist, the other gliding up to bury his hand in my hair.

  “This is what it should feel like, Love,” he grunts and, without any hesitation, takes my mouth with brutal force.

  His lips are strong and hungry—almost punishing. Mine part easily, and his tongue tangles quickly with my own. I breathe in each of his groans, balancing onto my tiptoes to get closer, needing more, grabbing two handfuls of his hair.

  It’s a kiss so demanding and profound, like two storms colliding, that all else ceases to exist; only his taste, our connection, and a tingling through my whole body remain. Our mouths, like addicts, don’t want to release each other’s.

  But as if we know they must, the kiss slows to gentle nips, sucks, and soft brushes of his tongue along my lips. We eventually part, both fighting for breath.

  “There,” he whispers huskily, running a finger along my cheek. “That’s the look of a woman who’s had a proper kiss.”

  I bury my face in his neck, soaking up his scent and memorizing the beat of his pulse on my cheek.

  “Come, Love, we need to find the others. But understand,” he finishes, lifting my chin to force me to look at him, “you just told me you’re finally ready, and I’m done waiting. Things have changed.”

  I know. And I’m scared to death.

  ~~~~~

  Nat eyes me suspiciously the next day, having made a full recovery back to her nosy, outspoken self.

  “There’s something different about you,” she says. “What’d I miss yesterday?”

  I don’t meet her eyes as I answer, balancing the edge of complete honesty.

  “I told you.” And I had told her about every stop we made…just maybe not everything that happened at each one.

  “Uh-huh,” she hums. “That’s okay. You act innocent all you want. I’ll figure it out.”

  “What about you? You stayed out all night. Anything you didn’t share?”

  “Nope,” she pops out. “Trust me, I wish I had something to tell, but I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry, Nat.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not. I didn’t wait this long for fabulous to get nothing. I’ll find it—him—one day.”

  I understand exactly what she means, so I let it go easily, sending up a silent prayer for her fabulous to come charging in with trumpets blaring sooner rather than later.

  “Can we just enjoy our last day in Paris, please, now that you’re out of bed and coherent?” I ask with a laugh.

  “By all means.”

  And enjoy the day we do, staying close to each other. Our first stop is a museum, the Catacombs, which are spooky but fascinating. Then we stop for a nice lunch before traveling to our final destination in Paris: the Père Lachaise Cemetery, which is huge.

  Chad hasn’t so much as peered my way, which I’m only concerned about because I really didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But Kingston? His scent lingers whenever he moves away from me, and he’s thrown smoldering glances my way all day—a few of which I’ve returned.

  After our kiss last night that I swear I still taste every time I lick my lips and relive every time I close my eyes for even a second, I can’t deny it any longer. He and I need to have a serious talk, and soon.

  Dusk is closing in fast as we wander around the cemetery and I know I won’t have time to see even half of it, so I set out searching for the one final-resting spot I want to see the most.

  Kingston walks over to me and holds out his hand. “It’s this way. Come.”

  “What is what way?” Nat asks, following us. “Where are we going? Echo, do you even know?”

  “I hope so,” I answer with a snicker, squeezing Kingston’s hand. “Guess we’ll see if Mr. Hawthorne here knows me as well as he thinks he does.”

  “He does,” she quips with a laugh.

  “Did I mention I rather like her?” he asks quietly.

  “Yeah, you may have said something.” I smile to myself, before saying more loudly, “If you two are done ganging up on me, can we hurry? Daylight’s burning.”

  He takes us straight to the place I was seeking and, when we arrive, his brows rise a fraction with his satisfied, irresistible grin.

  “How’d I do?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes and move around him to see it: the plot of Jim Morrison.

  Nat gasps, her hand flying to her chest.

  “Wh-why would people do that—all the graffiti?”

  “It’s people’s artistic expression, for the artist,” I say in a faraway voice.

  “Not everyone sees it that way, but I had no doubt you would,” Kingston murmurs, wrapping his arm around me and laying a soft kiss on my hair. “Amazing, as always.”

  Another sound of shock comes from Natalie. I turn to her, unsurprised to find wide eyes and a twist to her mouth.

  “I knew I missed something yesterday—PDA was not on the menu where I left off! Echo,” she whines
, “you’re holding out on me, damn you!”

  Before I can laugh, an interruption of a different, nauseating sort occurs.

  “Kingston!” Jackie’s shrill voice echoes through the cemetery. “Where are you?”

  Because it’s not tacky at all to scream amongst the resting.

  “Go ahead,” I tell him, squatting down to pay my further respects. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”

  Kingston laughs. “Natalie, since my Echo here still doesn’t realize what you seem to, would you care to venture a guess at what I’m about to say?”

  “There’s no way in hell he’s leaving us, Echo. And by us, I mean you—and your gorgeous friend, me—alone here,” she answers, immediately and proudly. “Geez, woman, catch up!”

  “Well done. Thank you, Natalie,” he says coolly.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Kingston! We’re ready to leave, if you care!” Jackie yells again.

  I stand, putting this moment to memory, and sigh loudly. “All right, let’s go. That voice…” I shiver, deciding not to say “would wake the dead” aloud.

  We rejoin the group. Jackie wastes no time glaring holes in us, her hands on her hips.

  “What were the three of you doing?” she sneers.

  I know it’s coming even in the split second it takes Nat to respond. Her eyes glisten with opportunity, and Jackie can only blame herself for her very poor choice of words.

  “Not what you do in groups of three,” my friend spits right back.

  Shots fired. Called it.

  “Okay!” Patton shouts, clapping his hands. “So, we ready? Back to the hotel?”

  “When the bus arrives. It’s sorted to be here soon. Best to not walk back in the dark,” Kingston explains, then whispers in my ear, somewhat shocked but more so amused, “You watched a threesome?”

  I elbow him in the side and respond in an embarrassed mumble, “You said you didn’t care about the details.”

  He’s still chuckling softly when the bus pulls up.

  Chapter 14

  The next morning includes another bittersweet farewell. My watery eyes watch Paris disappear behind us from the bus as we make our way to Amsterdam.

  “You’re kinda sappy, huh?” Nat snickers beside me while Kingston, across the aisle and obviously listening, joins in with a subdued chuckle of his own.

  “I prefer to think of it as nostalgic, or appreciative,” I defend myself with a proud lift of my chin.

  “Both synonyms for ‘sappy.’” She grins. “I mean it as a compliment, though. It’s why we make a good pair, ’cause I’m the total opposite.”

  She can pretend to be a hard ass all she wants, but I’m not fooled—she’s already proven enough times how insightful and caring she is—but I don’t argue. I know all too well that people put up walls for a reason, and you can’t just go around busting them down. You have to wait for the person to trust you enough to let you behind them.

  “Okay, five hours to go,” she adds, popping in her earbuds. “Wake me up when we get there.”

  She uses a coat as a makeshift pillow to lean her head against the window and closes her eyes, leaving me to entertain myself.

  “Hey, Kingston.” Carson leans forward from the seat behind him. “I was thinking…we really haven’t done much backpacking on this backpacking trip.”

  I arch a questioning brow at Kingston and beam, anxious to hear his reply, because Carson does have a point.

  “Do you have a backpack with you?” Kingston asks him.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Have you traveled through multiple cities?”

  “Yeeessss,” Carson drawls.

  “Do you wish to be dropped here, and make your way to Amsterdam on foot?”

  He answers slowly this time. “Not…really.”

  “So, then, you have indeed used a backpack, toured the UK, and fancied the lush accommodations?”

  I glance back at Carson and can’t help but laugh. He wears an expression of defeat, but he asked for it.

  “Carson?” Kingston says, a hint of humor in his voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope,” he mumbles, sitting back.

  I’m pulling out my phone, planning to send Kingston a text and privately tease him for enjoying that way too much, when someone plops down in the seat beside him.

  Even if I couldn’t see who it was in my peripheral vision, the overwhelming cloud of perfume would’ve tipped me off.

  “I’m bored,” I hear Jackie whine petulantly—her signature tone. “Tell me something in that sexy accent of yours.”

  Since my phone’s already out and I’m damn sure not going to listen to the impending, no-doubt-nerve-wracking conversation, I follow Nat’s lead and put in my earbuds, queue up a relaxing playlist, then text my brother. He’s probably asleep since it’s after midnight back home, but I try anyway.

  Me: Hey, you, how is everything? Hope I’m not waking you up.

  It takes him two songs to respond, during which time I bounce between closing my eyes, allowing the music to soothe me, and staring at my screen for a response, refusing to check in on the status of things across the aisle.

  Seb: Nah, just lying here. I’m good, nothing new. You having fun?

  Me: Of course! It’s been incredible! Did you get the pictures I sent?

  Seb: Yep, showed the parents too. Mom was bummed she missed your call the other night. You should call again soon.

  Me: I will, it’s just been so busy. Every day’s been nonstop moving. Tell them I’m good and you heard from me, please?

  Seb: You got it. So, where are you now?

  Me: On the bus headed to Amsterdam.

  Seb: Great place! But don’t have too much fun. Stay safe, you hear me?

  Me: *Insert eye roll* I will. I stick close to Nat…and Kingston’s never too far away.

  Seb: LOL, I bet he’s not. You two good now?

  Me: Getting there.

  Seb: I’m glad to hear it. He’s a good guy, Echo.

  Me: I know that.

  Seb: Yeah, you do…but I also know YOU. So, you still holding back then?

  Me: I haven’t jumped his bones yet, if that’s what you mean. Also, who are you, and what have you done with my brother?

  Seb: Not what I meant, but the fact that you just said “jumped his bones” like some 12-year-old makes me all kinds of happy. Now I definitely know I have nothing to worry about. Still my sister that left here.

  Me: You’re a jerk, you know that?

  Seb: Sure do. So, this Nat…you like her? Good friend?

  I sit up straighter, considering my response carefully. I look over at Nat, who’s sound asleep, then back at my phone.

  Me: Yes, I like her a lot. She’s smart, funny, and caring—an excellent friend I plan on keeping even after this trip.

  Seb: That’s awesome. Happy you have her. She sounds great. About to fall asleep now, but we all love you and miss you. And Echo?

  Me: Yes?

  Seb: Have the time of your life, really. *But still said in my big-brother voice*

  Me: Well, make up your mind!

  Seb: You know exactly what I mean. Love you. Tell Kingston I said hey.

  Me: Love you, ttyl.

  Well that was elusive, interesting, and informative all at the same time. I didn’t realize just how highly Sebastian thinks of Kingston, or that he seems to truly have accepted that I’m older now and thus able to make my own decisions without him watching over me 24/7.

  The only thing that doesn’t surprise me was that asked he about Nat. I can only pray I’m right about her, because the last time I was wrong about a friend, I was devastatingly wrong.

  My eyes are already slitted in anger at the memory of my ex-BFF when I jerk my head in the direction of the tap that jolts me, ripping out my earbuds in the process.

  I don’t speak, instead asking what he wants with my impatient expression.

  He states the obvious. “She’s gone
.”

  “Thanks for the update,” I bite out. It was meant to jab him—not make him smirk, or his eyes twinkle.

  He leans across the aisle and dips his head to my ear.

  “I do so love when your knickers get in a twist—one of my favorite looks on you. And with the added jealousy? Maddening. Makes me wish we were all alone right now.”

  Damn him and his succulent voice and provocative words. I completely lose the ability to think straight when he does things like this, every silky syllable finding its way to each erogenous zone of my body.

  And even more disturbing, I now know for sure what I’ve secretly been certain of all along. It’s not my inexperienced curiosity, considering Clay, Patton, and even Chad having all tried unsuccessfully to elicit anything beyond momentary politeness from me. The fact is that I’m drawn to Kingston, undeniably and more forcefully, every single time.

  It’s only him, plain and simple—though of course our dynamic is anything but.

  “Nothing to say?” he hums along my neck, having not moved while I became lost in my thoughts.

  “I wasn’t…”

  No. I’m done pretending, and it doesn’t matter anyway, as I have yet to successfully pull off a single lie with him.

  “Yes, fine, I was jealous. Happy?”

  “Extremely.” His breath heats. “You do realize I’ve no interest in her and she simply wants to get a rise out of you, right? Which…” He laughs the next words onto my skin. “I might have to thank her for, actually.”

  “What did she want?” I ask boldly, unable to twist my body away because, deep down, I want to feel more of him.

  “I’ve just told you, Love, to fluster you. Though it makes me a cad, I’m delighted it worked. My Echo has finally admitted she fancies me—even gets jealous over what she thinks of as hers.” He skims the shell of my ear with the tip of his tongue. “Which I am.”

  “Kingston…” It comes out a wisp.

  “Only fair, seeing as how you. Are. Mine.” It’s a rich, possessive growl that ripples through me. “You have always been mine, haven’t you?”

  “Kingston, please...” I rest my forehead on his shoulder, trying to tame my heavy breathing. “There’s people watching. They can see.”