FILTHY FOREIGN
EXCHANGE
FILTHY FOREIGN
EXCHANGE
S.E. Hall & Angela Graham
Copyright © 2016 S.E. Hall & Angela Graham
All rights reserved
Editors—Jen Haupt & Kara Hildebrand
Cover Design—Sommer Stein
Photographer—Eric David Battershell
Model—Zeke Samples
Formatter—Joni Wilson
This book may not be reproduced in any form,
in whole or in part,
without written permission from the author.
This book is intended for mature audiences only.
DEDICATION
To our HalloGraham Betas.
Thank you for your support!
XOXO
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Connect with S.E. Hall
About Angela Graham
Chapter 1
My body tenses at the rumble I hear in the distance, each boom sounding closer. A storm is rolling in.
I close my eyes and focus my mind, pushing my muscles to swing me higher, undeterred. Can my anger outlast, even defeat, that of nature?
Absolutely.
“Gonna take more than a few rowdy clouds to scare me,” I scoff, reopening my eyes. “Like facing my dad when he gets home. Now that’s terrifying.” I cringe at the thought.
“Then you should’ve gone with them,” Savannah grunts through her panting. A moment later, she flip-kicks into my awaiting grip, and I catch her with little effort.
“Why would I make that trip again?” I ask as I hang upside down, now holding both our weight. “I was just at the airport this morning to see Sebastian off!”
“Still, the guy’s gonna be around, and for a while. You are part of his host family. Might’ve made things easier to start off on a friendly foot.”
“Eh,” is my dismissal of her point. “Ready?”
I flex my back, using the trained muscles to build momentum, then attempt to swing Savannah up and over me to gain her a seat on the static bar.
My optimism disappears as quickly as she does, into the catch net below us…again.
“Savannah!” I snap. “We almost had it that time! You have to use our momentum, not work against it!”
I release my ankle hold around the bar handles and drop to join her. From my back, I stare at the top of the tent and sigh. “A duo trapeze act with two girls is rare. It could bring in a helluva crowd—maybe even a bigger one than Sebastian and I did. We’ve got to nail this!”
Savannah nods, exasperation clear in her heavy brow.
“Again,” I demand as I find my footing in the net and make my way over to the ladder, ready to climb back up to the platform. “Come on. My parents will be home soon, and then I’ll have to go play nice with this Kingston guy. What the hell kinda name is that, anyway?” Despite a full day of bitching, I seem to have no off switch as I continue to scale the ladder. “Hoity-toity, if you ask me. Hope he doesn’t think I’m gonna treat him like a king, or he’s in for a very rude awakening.”
When I receive no reply, I glance back down at Savannah, who’s never been this quiet in her life and is currently not even halfway up the ladder behind me.
“Hello, did you hear me?” I ask.
“Oh, I didn’t think you wanted an actual response to your crazed rambling.” Her laugh is strained as she scrambles faster, finally making it to the platform. She sits, flushed and sweaty with exhaustion. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
I slide down beside her as I hear raindrops on the roof of the tent. But apparently they aren’t loud enough, because yes, I can hear myself. And maybe I am getting a little annoying.
“Honestly, ‘Echo’ isn’t exactly the most normal name.”
I toss a heated stare her way, only to laugh the second it connects with her goofy grin.
“Plus, I think ‘Kingston’ sounds kind of…sexy.”
“Sexy!?” I shout, the muscles in my jaw ticking. “Did you really just say that to me when you should be…oh, I don’t know…donned in black and mourning the loss of my brother? You remember Sebastian, your boyfriend, right?”
Her laughter ricochets off the canvas walls surrounding us. “‘Donned in black’?” She lifts a leg. “Do my leggings count?”
I fight a smile. Admittedly, I am being a bit dramatic.
She crosses her legs and exhales slowly. “I love Sebastian. Everyone knows that. He’s on his way to England, not the pearly gates. And let’s be real, we both know he’ll be noticing a few ‘sexy’ foreigners of his own.”
I defend my brother without hesitation. “Doubtful.”
Her eyes close briefly, only to reopen with a dramatic roll. “Fine,” she huffs, standing and staring down at me with her hands on her hips. “You’re right. Sebastian will have nothing but completely pure thoughts about everyone other than me for the entire year at that university! Mr. Perfect wouldn’t dare let his eyes wander.”
My own selfish frustrations are annihilated when I witness her sincere pain. “Sorry. I know you’ll miss him,” I say, offering a reassuring smile. “But you can’t honestly be worried. You know he’s crazy about you.”
“Of course I’ll miss him. I already do. And I was just trying to point out something—anything—that you’d take as a positive and would make you quit complaining.”
She’s back at the ladder, ready to descend, when I stand up too.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Seriously, Echo, between the rain and your weird mood, I’m done with practice. This poor Kingston guy deserves to be made to feel welcome, not your piss-poor attitude. And as distracted as you are, you’re not a safe partner right now.” She reaches the bottom and looks up, her arms crossed over her chest. “You should go inside and practice a few nice things to say when you meet him. Start with ‘Hi,’ and see where it takes you.”
I ignore her advice. “Fine, give up then.” I grab the bar and swing out, pike to mermaid—one of my favorite moves. I can hang here all night, storm be damned, and she knows it. “Won’t be as unique, but I’m sure Clay will do the routine with me.”
“So it’s like that, then? Dropping me for Clay of all people?” She stares up at me, chewing on her left thumbnail.
“No offense,” I say, surprised she’s buying into my empty threat, “but we have a show coming up soon, and I just don’t think we have enough time for the practice we need together.”
“I really want to do this act, Echo,” she throws back. “Let’s just try again tomorrow, okay? Plus, Clay’s probably going to be pretty busy, you know, helping your dad with the grounds work and other stuff Sebastian did.” She grabs her jacket. “We’ll get it—we always do. Just not tonight.”
“You want the act? Then we keep practicing now!” I shout as she heads toward the exit, thinking quickly of a plea to her pride. “Come on. Does Sebastian let you quit this easily?”
She pauses, then looks back over her shoulder. “As a matter of fact, Sebastian loves it when I call it a day. Why do you think I’m so comfortable in that net
, hmm?”
She gives me a saucy grin before continuing forward, adding a little skip to her step.
“That’s my brother! Jesus, Savannah, I don’t want to hear that crap!” She’s already outside when I yell, “You know what? You win! Now I’m done practicing, too. That’s a wrap, you big nasty!”
She pokes her head back in. “Don’t knock it till you try it,” she says before blowing me a mocking kiss. “See you tomorrow. Good luck with your family…and your guest.”
I stay and continue to practice, despite my threat—and the disturbing image that pops into my head every time I hit the net, thanks to Savannah’s oversharing.
~~~~~
By the time my muscles demand I call it a night, the storm is long gone and the family car is parked in our driveway.
I creep silently into the house and find a tinfoil-covered plate on the kitchen counter: the dinner my mom saved for me, even though I’m sure my father said something along the lines of, “If she wants to eat, she can sit down, on time, with the rest of us.”
I smile to myself at the small victory. My dad may think he rules the roost, but he doesn’t call the last shot when it comes to my mom taking care of her babies.
After I finish off the still-warm chicken and potatoes as quietly as possible, I tiptoe past my parents’ bedroom, paying special attention to each step I take—or, more specifically, avoiding the floorboards that creak.
My father’s stern voice pierces the darkness. “We’ll talk in the morning, young lady.”
Damn, he’s good. I literally wobbled left to right like a drunk person, nailing the silent boards, and he still heard me.
“Yes, sir,” I spit out before hurrying up the staircase to my bedroom.
My grandfather, smart man that he was, built this house after he had children. With the master suite on the bottom floor and the kids’ rooms upstairs, there was no getting past the parents. But somehow, Grandpa had forgotten to take into account that our family has studied the art of Aerialism for generations. So once you’re up in your room, getting out of it undetected isn’t much of a problem—a caveat I know for a fact my older brother Sebastian has taken advantage of often (mostly because he’s used my balcony to do so nine times out of ten).
I head straight for a hot shower to prevent my overworked muscles from stiffening. The entire time I stand under the spray, I stare through the glass at the closed door on the far side of the room. Sebastian’s bedroom is connected to mine by a Jack and Jill bathroom, but my brother isn’t on the other side anymore. Tonight, and every night for this upcoming school year, he’ll be in England, his room vacant. The thought is the final blow to my day.
Once I’ve dried off and tied my robe, I open his door slowly, with tears in my eyes. I’m not sure why I’m going into his room—maybe to see the proof of his absence, naïvely hoping that will help settle my anxiety? It’s dark inside, of course, but the thin drapes are parted and the moon is full and bright after tonight’s storm.
My breath hitches, my feet coming to a complete and sudden halt when I spot the large body lying in my brother’s bed. It’s almost comforting at first; I find myself wishing it was Sebastian, but I know it’s not.
And I can only assume it’s Kingston. I have no clue why my parents didn’t just drop him at his dorm, or why I’m not turning around to go back to my own room. But now, as I stand so close, my curiosity is piqued.
From this angle and in this lighting, he could almost pass for Sebastian: short, dark-brown hair; muscularly outlined back; sleeping on his side. But whereas Sebastian sleeps under the covers, our houseguest has the sheet and comforter shoved down past a tight, perfectly rounded ass that’s filling out his black boxer briefs in a way I find startlingly sinful. He also has his arms shoved under his pillow—another difference that makes it hard for me to pretend.
I creep a bit farther into the room, checking out his luggage: designer and monogrammed—all matching of course, and reeking of luxury and fine leather. Fancy, but mismatching horribly with the black (and admittedly sexy) combat boots that—
“Umpf,” I grunt despite my desperate efforts to remain quiet, reaching out for anything to brace myself on. But it’s no use. I fly forward, having tripped over one of the not-nearly-as-sexy-now boots.
“I was told you were the graceful one.”
His low, gravely taunt comes out of nowhere and startles me now completely off balance, throwing me backward in the opposite direction. With my hands flailing, my only hope now is that the luggage provides a soft landing.
But I never meet it, or the floor. Instead, two strong hands rescue me, snaring my wrists and pulling me down on top of one seriously hard, hot—temperature-wise, I mean—body.
“I’d presume you to be Echo and say hello, but again, not the graceful girl I was expecting. So, you are…?” He looks up at me with a smug twitch to his lip and devastating twinkle in his gray—Are they really gray, or is that the lighting?—eyes.
“I…uh…” I stammer idiotically, dressed only in a robe that’s far too revealing for the position I find myself lying in: across the bare torso of perhaps the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen up close, in person. And we are very up close.
I attempt to push off him, but his hands slide down to my hips and grip tighter.
“Yes,” I gasp, before battling for a sense of authority in my next response. “I’m Echo. Sorry I woke you, I just wasn’t…expecting you to be in here.” His brows rise, practically screaming that he sees right through me. “Let me up! I tripped over your big, stupid boots, then you scared me.”
“My apologies, Echo.” A quiver plays down my spine at the way my name rolls off his lips in that decadent English accent of his. “Had I known you’d be visiting my room tonight, I’d have taken more care in setting my belongings out of your way.”
“I should’ve left when I realized you were in here, so we’re even. Can you let me up now?”
His grip remains firm as his smile deepens. “I must admit, I’m rather enjoying this version of our introduction. Far better than a mere ‘How do you do?’ over dinner.” He’s sporting a full grin now, blindingly bright even in the dimly lit room.
All I can do is stare at him, words failing me. I half suspect I’m dreaming—but I can feel, long and stiff against my stomach, that this humiliation is, in fact, reality.
“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.
“Of course.”
“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.
Chapter 2
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.
“Now, Echo!”
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.
Filthy Foreign Exchange Page 1