Filthy Foreign Exchange(4)By: Angela Graham & S.E. Hall
“I’m quite comfortable, so do feel free to stay as long as you like. And if you really want to give me a smashing welcome, don’t be afraid to wiggle around a bit.” His smirk grows impossibly wide as he thrusts his hips upward, pressing his erection firmer against me.
And just like that, my speechlessness evaporates.
“Are you insane?” I use both hands to shove hard against his chest, but I’m no match for his relentless clutch on my hips. “Let me go! You’re a guest in our home tonight—you can’t just manhandle me when the mood strikes!”
“Ah, grace period.” He nods. “Understood. So, tomorrow night, then?”
“Unbelievable!” I seethe, wriggling around in hopes of escape.
His fingers dig deeper, but the ravenous gleam in his eyes softens. “A joke, Echo. My apologies. Perhaps I took it too far.”
My anger soothes to a low simmer. He’s got a certain playful charm about him, and maybe this is just his very forward way of easing the awkwardness that I instigated in the first place by sneaking into the room in the middle of the night.
But just as I start to form a forgiving smile, he ruins all excuses I’d just mentally compiled.
“Can I be frank with you?”
“Will you let me up?” I toss back.
“Then let’s hear it.”
I wait for him to say God only knows what—a heartfelt apology, maybe?—but instead, his expression sharpens into one of pure lust.
“I’ve lied to you. The truth is…I’d much prefer it if you grinded down on me a bit, Love. Wiggling is for strangers, and we’re not strangers anymore, now are we?”
“Ugh,” I growl, propelling myself off him when his laughter loosens his hold. I stomp out of the room, his sounds of amusement lingering behind me.
And that’s how I met our foreign exchange student, Kingston Hawthorne.
I take my time making an appearance at breakfast the next morning not only because of my father’s impending lecture, but because even if it will be in the safety of daylight this time, I’m not eager to face Kingston—especially considering what I found in the shower this morning: a note, written in the steam on the door, that I didn’t notice until rinsing my hair.
It was a pleasure meeting you.
I’d smeared my hand across the words to permanently erase them, thankful my parents rarely entered my bathroom. Smug jerk. The sooner he checked in at his dorm, the better.
My father’s demand rattles the entire house, setting my feet in hustled motion down the stairs. With my head lowered, knowing my father’s stink eye is aimed right at me, I hurry to the sanctity of my mother’s side at the stove.
“Can I help with anything?” I offer sweetly.
“As a matter of fact,” she replies, lowering both her head and voice, “you can take the scolding you’re over here trying to avoid, with no backtalk. That would be a big help. I’d like our guest to feel as comfortable as I’m praying Sebastian does at his new…” She pauses and takes a deep breath, her eyes watering a bit. “Home.”
I rub her shoulder and serve up a confident smile. “Sebastian knows where home is, Mom.” As I sense her grief start to dissolve, I add, “And I’ll behave—promise. But you have to promise me you won’t worry. I can’t stand it when you’re sad.”
The last of her lingering sniffles give my heart one more tug as she kisses my cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. Go take your seat, and these biscuits.” She hands me the basket. “And I’ll try not to worry. I promise.”
My mom was Sebastian’s biggest supporter while he was applying, and then planning, for the big swap. But I guess the gravity of seeing her first baby actually leave home is hitting her harder than we all anticipated.
No sooner is my butt in the chair than my dad clears his throat and demands my eyes on him. I place the biscuits on the table slowly and wait for it.
“Nice of you to finally join us.” My father’s tone is more condescending than angry, much to my relief. “Kingston, this is our daughter, Echo Victoria Kelly.”