by S. E. Hall
“And what might that be?” he asks, his tone skeptical.
“Not that it’s any of my business, really—and it’s tacky of me to say.” I exhale, already feeling a bit catty because I know my intentions aren’t completely pure. “But when, and if, you’re with Jackie again…please be safe.”
His eyes hone in on mine, ensuring he has my full attention and that I’ll see the corners of his mouth rise gradually to form a smug grin.
“While I appreciate the warning—because you’re simply looking out for me as a friend, of course—it isn’t necessary. I’ve never been with Jackie, nor shall I ever be. And before you roll your eyes, I’m telling you the absolute truth.”
And he is. Much like he can tell when I’m lying, I’m as attuned to him as ever. This knowledge shouldn’t make me as happy as it does, but it’s too late. I’m already fighting a losing battle against a small smile tugging at the corners of my own lips.
“I’m curious, however.” He chuckles, not even attempting to hide his delight now. “What prompted your warning?”
“Oh, um…nothing. Doesn’t matter, right? Waiter!” I literally yell across the room, before raising my menu again and promptly burying my face. “Forget I said anything.”
Kingston assesses me silently, the weight of his unwavering stare heavy as I place my order. The instant the waiter walks away, the menu no longer my shield, I brace myself.
“Now then, as I was saying…what aren’t you saying, Echo?” he presses with amused curiosity.
Damn the telling blush I feel heating up my neck and face. Without food to concentrate on, I’m left with no choice but to save myself further embarrassment by looking at him. And after all, I am the one who brought it up.
“I may have accidentally seen a few things last night that, uh…would suggest that had you been with her or were planning to be, again...” I take a deep breath and regroup. “That you wouldn’t be the only one, and should be careful.”
“Ah, my beautiful, blushing Echo.” He laughs lightly, then leans in, lowering his voice to a seductive level. “Did you see her shagging someone?”
I can only nod.
“And did you watch?”
My head bobs again, but I lick my lips and speak up, attempting to salvage what character I can.
“That’s all I’m going to tell you, though,” I huff. “I shouldn’t have said anything; it’s none of my business. I’m acting like a girly gossip, which is not who I want to be. So don’t ask me with who.”
“I couldn’t care less about who she was with. But I would very much fancy knowing…” He lifts my head with a finger under my chin. “How it made you feel—how your body reacted to the sight.”
His eyes are positively smoldering, and there’s a carnality in them that has me squirming a little in my chair.
“Whether it made you wonder how it would feel if done to your body. It did—did it not, Love?”
“No!” I protest deceitfully on a shout. But he only smirks wider, reveling in his sureness that I’m not telling the truth.
“You’re lying,” he confirms as his tongue slides across his bottom lip. “One last question, and I’ll drop it…for now.”
My breathing is choppy and audible as I wait, half knowing and half hoping what his last question will be.
He rests his forehead against mine and growls it out.
“When you imagined it—being touched like that, brought to pleasure—was it me you pictured worshipping every inch of you?”
Chapter 9
We ended up taking the Underground to Paddington station, the train far better than the tube—roomier, cleaner. And the view of the English countryside was absolutely breathtaking.
I never answered his last question at breakfast, instead allowing the palpable silence to stretch longer and longer between us until food was placed in front of me. I dived into it with gusto, ensuring my mouth remained too full to allow speech.
It didn’t matter, though. He heard every unspoken word—which explains the secret, sensuous smiles he’s been giving me ever since. And now, while I’m trying to concentrate on the beauty of the Roman baths in truly one of the most magnificent places I’ve ever been and will probably ever go, my skin still bristles every time his eyes roam over me.
“I get you have a past and he may have screwed up, but damn.” Nat fans herself dramatically. “How can you stand it? I’m horny as hell, and he’s not even looking at me!”
My new friend has certainly come out of her shell—I suspect for good. Which is great, because I really like her.
But not so much her volume.
“Will you lower your voice, Jezebel?” I grimace.
“Sorry.” She drops from a ten to a solid six. “Consider it payback for telling Patton I was into him.”
“I’m sorry. I had a purpose, though—one in your best interest,” I say with complete sincerity. “I promise.”
“Oh, I believe you,” she replies, looping her arm though mine. “And you’re forgiven. I still had to pay ya back, though. Now come on, let’s take some pictures.”
She tells me to pose first. I sit on the edge of the giant, spectacular pool, smiling as she clicks away on my phone. I bound up, meeting her halfway to switch, then capture some similar shots of her.
“Would you like me to take a few of the two of you together?”
Kingston’s voice startles me, but I don’t drop the phone. And since Natalie’s already nodding eagerly, I turn and hand it to him.
“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He smiles. “And Echo? After this, I’d really like to have a bit of your time, to show you something very special to me.”
“Pretty sure the group needs your time right now,” I deflect, needing to avoid being alone with him. “You are the tour guide.”
“All taken care of.”
He points, and lo and behold, I see Burke strolling our way. I steal a peek at Nat, who has already noticed him and is trying her hardest not to beam from ear to ear.
“What is it you want to show me?” I go ahead and ask, having contained my curiosity longer than I’d expected to be able to.
“You’ll see,” he says with a wink. “First, go sit with your friend so I can photograph that beautiful smile of yours. And by the way, she seems lovely. I’m glad you two have hit it off.”
“She is,” I reply, then head toward Nat.
“I’m gonna desert you in just a minute to go flirt up Burke—you know this, right?” Nat mumbles as I sit beside her.
“I figured. Totally acceptable,” I say with a soft snicker. “Kingston has something spe—”
“I heard. I hope it’s his dick.” She grins. “’Cause I’m betting that’s pretty damn special.”
When Kingston bursts out laughing, I cringe. No need to worry about whether or not he heard her, so I just shake my bowed head…because what else can I do?
~~~~~
“Where on Earth are you taking me?” I ask, intrigued and excited as I trek through the countryside with Kingston.
Before he can answer, we reach the top of the hill. I gasp, and my eyes water because I know, soul deep, where we are.
“This is where—”
“Your parents met.” It comes out a wisp, cracking with emotion.
His head jerks my way, eyes wide with surprise. “How did you know that?”
“Your father told me the story.”
“Did he?”
I’m drawn closer to the water ahead of us. “It’s just as I pictured it while he spoke,” I say, more to myself than him.
“Hmm.”
“What?” I squat down and run my hands through the icy water, peering over at him.
“It’s just…surprising,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Why’s that?”
He doesn’t answer, his eyes searching the area implying he’s deep in thought.
I slide all the way to the ground and remove my shoes, understan
ding now exactly why Miranda had removed hers. It’s the water—the way it flows so smoothly over the mossy pebbles and jagged rocks beckons you.
With my feet submerged in the coolness, I allow my head to lull back and my hair to flow over my shoulders. I close my eyes, sighing in complete contentment.
“I was wrong.” His voice is husky and strained. “It’s not a surprise at all.”
Blissfully, I glance over my shoulder to find an intensity in his eyes so strong that my entire body shudders and I can’t look away.
“My father doesn’t miss much.” He moves closer, reaching a hand down for me. “Come.”
I accept, giving him mine.
He leads us to a huge tree. Beneath it, there’s a picnic basket and blanket set up.
“Now you’ve seen my special tree, too.”
“Kingston—”
“I know, no memories. My apologies. But please, sit and have lunch with me?” he appeals, using both his voice and eyes.
“All right,” I say with a nod. He helps me to the ground, then joins me.
I fidget and chew my bottom lip, looking around as he unpacks the basket. Conflicting feelings battle inside my head. Am I flattered that he’s sharing such a sacred spot and part of his life with me? Yes. But at the same time, I’m holding onto my resistance for dear life.
“What did you mean before, about your father not missing much?” I ask.
“I’ve never heard him tell anyone besides myself the story of how he met my mother, but he apparently told you readily.” He stops unpacking and looks at me. “He obviously felt there was a reason to tell you. What do you suppose that reason would be?”
“I was admiring her picture.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I suspect there was much more to it than that.”
Me too, but I won’t say it.
Kingston shifts, moving closer so our legs touch, his hand finding my knee. “He knows that when I look at you, I see exactly what he saw when he looked at my mother—genuine, unbelievable, and completely unconditional love.”
I scramble backward like a frightened crab.
“Kingston,” I say, my voice labored, “you agreed to just friends—nothing more.”
He closes in fast, his lips all but brushing mine before I realize it’s happened.
“You know bloody well it’s never been just friends with us, and it never will be. Even when you weren’t of age and were under your father’s roof, it was always more than friends. Try to deny it.”
His lips lay a feathery touch on mine. My eyes shut as my mouth trembles beneath his, my whole body quivering with a yearning I fear I can’t fight much longer.
“Kiss me, Echo,” he begs on my mouth.
With a strength I have no idea how I summon, I jolt back and stand abruptly.
“Kingston, no! I don’t want to be cruel in such a beautiful, important place, but I meant what I said, friends or nothing at all! I can’t do this again—I won’t do this again! If you keep pushing, you’ll push me away completely…for good.”
“Echo, wait!” he calls after me as I run back the way we came as fast as I safely can without my shoes, unable to see clearly through the flood of tears.
“Wait!” he demands again minutes later, somewhat breathlessly, after catching up to me. He tugs at his hair. “Christ! The harder I try not to, the worse I cock up with you! I know you want sincerity, grand romantic gestures…the things of poetry and forever. That’s what I’m trying to give you—to show you. And I am more than happy to give you all of it!”
“Wanted, Kingston—past tense! I’ve moved on, and you need to do the same. Shouldn’t be hard. You’ve done it before.”
He stumbles backward from the hurt, bitter cut of my tone.
“No, I didn’t. If you’d let me explain—”
He reaches for me again, but I dodge his touch.
“You had plenty of time to explain, and you didn’t. Now we operate on my terms, my timeline—and I don’t want to hear it!”
His face…God, it’s as though I slapped him.
“Why not?” he asks in muted stubbornness that pains me to my core.
“Because,” I choke out through a whimper, “I’ll believe you—and I can’t afford to believe in you again.”
I grab my shoes from his hand and run away as fast as I can.
Chapter 10
Kingston gives me the distance he knew was a make-or-break deal in that moment. He doesn’t speak again, walking just far enough behind me to respect my space while still offering enough security so that I won’t get lost.
“You okay?” Nat asks the second I return. Her concerned gaze slides from me to Kingston as he walks past, staring ahead solemnly.
“Honestly?” I ask, unable to deny any more truths.
She touches my elbow lightly. “Of course. Can’t have my roomie and the closest thing I’ve ever had to a BFF lying to me, now can I?”
“BFF?” I choke on the letters, reminded of what I once believed Savannah to be. Is there such a thing as a genuine friend you could confide your deepest thoughts to? Nat knows my past with Kingston and never judges, only listens and understands…so maybe there is.
Regardless, it’s time to test the possibility again—because after only a day and a half, I know my relationship with her is definitely more than that of just a roommate.
I snare her arm and lead her away, strolling past a little café and souvenir shop before finding a bench to take a seat.
“I’m terrified.” The words leap from my mouth as I lower my head into my hands.
“I know,” she says thoughtfully. “It sucks that he hurt you—that you were falling so hard for a guy who just left without giving you any answers.”
She stands, and I peek up.
“It makes me want to kick his ass…except…”
“Except what?” I sit up taller, straightening my shoulders.
“Except I’ve seen the way he looks at you, all the time, and—”
“Seriously?” I jump to my feet. “You’re taking his side?”
“No fucking way!” She holds up her hands. “What he did was shitty. But I also think he knows it, and that if you give him a second chance, maybe—just maybe—he’ll prove to you that he learned from what he lost and won’t screw up again.”
I look away and gnaw on my bottom lip, catching a glimpse of Kingston guiding the group into another café. My chest aches—an agonizing throb that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore.
I whip my head back to Nat, and with raw vulnerability and tears stinging my eyes, I can only whisper, “Or maybe he’ll finish what he started…walk away with the upper hand of closure on his terms, and completely destroy me.”
I turn on my heel and walk to the bus, alone…or so I think. I take my seat, and am considering how we won’t be departing for at least an hour when I feel Nat slide down beside me.
We don’t speak or even exchange a look. She’s here, missing out on exploring the rest of Bath, to offer silent support. Exactly what I need from a best friend.
~~~~~
Emotionally and mentally drained, I skip out on whatever “group festivities” are planned for the evening. I even manage to convince Nat I’m fine staying in alone, and demand she go out and have a memorable night with Burke.
I don’t fool her a bit, but she respects the space I’m asking for and, after ordering me nachos—one of my favorites from room service—to ensure I eat, jumps in the shower.
I sit by the window with my food, still enthralled with the sights of London, before drawing a hot bath after Nat’s finished. The water singes my skin in the most comforting way—a subtle bite that pushes Kingston even further from my thoughts.
“Hey, your phone’s ringing!” Nat yells through the door. “Someone named Sebastian?”
“That’s my brother. Can you answer it and tell him I’m in the tub, but that I’m fine?”
“Sure!”
“Not a word about Kingston!” I add q
uickly.
“You got it!”
“And then hurry up and get to Burke before the night is already over!”
I rest my head back and smile. I trust her to keep quiet, so I close my eyes, letting the hot water ease away the tension swirling inside me. In fact, a tiny giggle slips out at the thought of Seb’s reaction if Nat gets on one of her tangents about our trip so far while talking to him.
And I’m right, judging by the fact that I soon hear her laughter from the other room. I can only imagine what she’s saying—or the look on my brother’s face as he listens.
By the time I finish my bath, I’m pruny but far more relaxed, and Nat’s off the phone. She’s perched on the edge of her bed, slipping on her shoes, eagerness oozing from her.
“Is your brother hot? He sounds hot.” She speaks in bubbles, if that’s a thing; her voice and face are animated, and there’s a tiny bounce in her movements as she talks.
I groan and fall onto my bed. “Not to me, since he’s my brother.”
“You know what I mean. Do other girls think he’s hot?” She stands, tossing on her cross-body bag.
“They seem to, yes.”
“I knew it!” She actually springs forward. “You can tell from a person’s voice.”
“Oh yeah? Then tell me, what’s my voice mean right now?” I drone, fussing with my pillow and rolling on my side, facing away from her.
“That you’re mad, on several different levels, for several different reasons—none of which have anything to do with me.”
She’s absolutely right, and she knows it, too; the gloating is evident in her tone.
I already took my pill and it should be kicking in any minute, so I decide to indulge her for the short span of consciousness I have left.
“By all means, Nat Freud, do elaborate,” I yawn.
“You’re mad at Kingston for things in the past, you’re even more mad that he’s making it so hard to stay angry at him in the present, but most of all, you’re livid with yourself that you can’t stop from indulging in thoughts of what he could be in your future.”
She pauses, and if I had the energy, I’d lob a pillow at her know-it-all-precisely head.