Kiss Me Kate (The English Brothers Book 6) (12 page)

“Étienne,” she said on a sigh, her fingers flexing against the wall of his chest as she dropped her forehead, panting against his throat. “No more.”

“
Chaton, chaton, ma belle chaton
,” he whispered, his breath warming her temple, the touch of his lips pressed against her skin making her tremble. “Kate, I’ve missed you so.”

“Missed me?” she murmured, her head in the clouds, still drunk with desire and breathless from his kiss.

“We both made mistakes,
non
?”

And just like that, Kate fell back to earth.

Mistakes? Like not writing back to me? Like acting like what we’d shared was nothing?
Righteous indignation gave her the strength to straighten up and push him away. Kate
hadn’t
made any mistakes with Étienne as far as she was concerned. She’d written faithfully. She’d called. She’d dismissed her pride and even stopped by his house that summer. Despite all of her efforts, she’d never heard from him again.

“No,” she said, pushing against his chest. She shook her head at him, pulling away from his arms as a tear rolled down her cheek, glistening in the moonlight like a diamond. “No, Étienne.
I
didn’t make any mistakes.”

He winced, dropping his arms from around her, his face hardening. His expression was a mix of deep hurt and great anger, and Kate swallowed, tilting her chin up. She wouldn’t admit to wrongdoing when she hadn’t done anything wrong. She wouldn’t share blame when it all belonged to him. If there was any chance for a future between her and Étienne, he would need to admit his mistreatment of her and offer her an explanation of his behavior. Only then could she forgive him and consider moving forward.

Leaning down, he picked up his cane, catching her eyes one more time as he straightened. She forced herself not to wince as he said, “I understand. Goodnight, Kate.”

She watched him go back inside, then braced her hands on the balustrade and let her tears fall.

Tony found her outside half an hour later, and Kate asked him to take her home right away. After a quiet and awkward car ride home, Tony pulled up in front of her apartment building, cut the engine and turned to her.

“May I walk you up?”

Kate faced him. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’re gay.”

Tony nodded. “I thought you knew.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said gently. “I think you were using me.”

“Funny,” said Tony, with just a hint of bitterness. “Because I think you were using me too.”

Kate nodded. “I guess I was. You were safe. You were nice. You always brought me pretty flowers.”

Tony gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

“Me too,” she answered, holding out her hand. “Friends?”

“Of course,” he answered, shaking hers. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“It’s not my secret to tell,” she answered, dropping his hand. “But why are you hiding it?”

“It would break my father’s heart, and his health is fragile. There’s just…no reason to tell my parents. They’re very old and very old-fashioned. I don’t want to hurt them.”

Kate nodded in compassion and understanding. “It’s going to come out eventually. No pun intended.”

“When they’re gone. Then I won’t care who knows.”

“Goodnight, Tony.”

Kate gave him a sad smile then turned to reach for the door.

His voice stopped her. “Hey Kate?”

“Hmm?”

“That guy…Étienne. He threatened me, you know. He said if I hurt you, he’d ruin me…and come to think of it, if he wasn’t walking with a cane, I’m fairly certain he would have kicked my ass.”

“I’ll call him off,” said Kate, looking down and trying to hide the smile that wanted to turn up the corners of her lips. He had tried to protect her and she had gotten angry with him. She owed him an apology.

“He’s beautiful,” said Tony softly.

Kate nodded, remembering the way his eyes had burned just before he’d kissed her.

“He’s in love with you.”

“No,” said Kate, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” said Tony, looking over at her, “he is. There’s something very real there. I felt it. I’m sure of it.”

“We have history,” said Kate. “You’re just picking up on that.”

“What happened?” asked Tony, leaning back against his headrest to settle in for a story.

“Hmm…” Kate sighed, looking out the windshield at the empty street. “It didn’t work out.”

“You broke up with him?”

“No,” said Kate wistfully, thoughts of their kiss tonight mixing seamlessly with memories of the first one they’d ever shared. “No, I didn’t break up with him. I wanted him. He was the one that let me go.”

“That one,” she said, giggling so the vibrations made his head bounce slightly in a way that was making him so happy and so hard, he was grateful she was staring at the sky and missed the tent getting higher and higher in his pants.

Étienne looked at the cloud cluster she was pointing to. “Bunnies fucking.”

She gasped in surprise then giggled again and his head, which rested on her belly, jostled merrily.

“That one!” she said, pointing up again.

“Umm,” he hummed, drawing out his answer, even though she knew what was coming. “Raccoons fucking.”

“Ten!” she cried, using his nickname, but the laughing had already started again.

Étienne closed his eyes and listened to the sound of happiness, forcing himself not to dwell on the fact that it was already Tuesday and Kate was heading back to New York on Saturday.

After painting and talking all afternoon into the evening, they’d only said “goodbye” last night when it was too dark to see their hands in front of their faces. Étienne had considered pulling her against him for a kiss as he’d walked her back to the hedges that separated Haverford Park from the Winslow place. They’d held hands for most of the day, after all; he couldn’t imagine she’d refuse him, but he’d chickened out at the last minute.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?” he’d asked her instead, grabbing her other hand too and tightening his grip around her fingers.

“I don’t know,” she had answered, but he’d heard the smile in her words. “You tell me.”

Kate English was fresh-faced and sunny, thoughtful and interesting. They’d wandered for hours yesterday, walking the bridle trail together holding hands and talking. He’d told her all about St. Michael’s, she’d told him all about Trinity Prep, and they’d even discovered some acquaintances they had in common. He’d been surprised to learn that Mock Courtroom was her favorite club (his too!) and swimming was her favorite sport (he was the only sophomore on the varsity team!) But they didn’t have everything in common…where he preferred studio art, Kate liked music and drama better. And when he complained about having three siblings, Kate had shared how much she wished she’d had any. By the end of the day, he knew more about Kate than he knew about any student at St. Michael’s, many of whom he’d known since second grade.

She was easy to talk to, of course, but it was more than that. When she wasn’t listening carefully to him and asking insightful questions, she was engaging him with her stories and observations. She laughed and giggled at herself in this self-deprecating way that was at once confident and shy, and Étienne found himself chuckling with her more than once. She didn’t take herself too seriously, but she wasn’t flighty and unsubstantial either. As he’d painted her, he’d watched her, feeling himself fall harder with every passing moment. He liked her. He liked her so much it made his chest hurt, it made his heart ache, it made him want to be witty and sharp to keep her laughing, it made him want to slow down and listen to her words, or speed up to progress faster from handholding to more.

More.

When her blue eyes, earnest but uncertain, found his, he felt it in his toes—how much he wanted her, how much he didn’t want to do anything wrong that could possibly cut short the precious time he had with her. With any other girl, he’d have definitely kissed her by now, copped a feel up top, and be pressing his advantage to get into her pants. With Kate? He’d met her on Sunday night and here it was, Tuesday afternoon, and he had yet to steal a kiss.

“Now you do one,” he said.

“Okay. Which?”

Étienne stared at the bright blue spring sky, looking for a cluster of clouds, and finally found one, pointing right over her head. “Those. What do you see?”

“Hmmm,” she murmured. She’d had her hands pillowed under her head, but she moved them lower now, resting them on her rib cage, just above his head. He reached up with his closest hand, weaving his fingers through hers and drawing her knuckles to his face. He kissed them gently, running the ridges back and forth over the sensitive skin of his moistened lips. It was the most forward he’d been with her yet, and he felt her sharp intake of breath under the back of his head.

“Tell me what you see,
chaton
,” he said gently with his cheek against the back of her hand.

“
Ch-Chaton
?” she asked him in a breathless murmur.

“It means kitten,” he said, pressing one last kiss to her skin, before lowering their joined hands to rest together over his heart.

“Étienne,” she whispered, “what’s happening between us?”

His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his voice level. “What do you see in the clouds?”

“Well…I see, um, a girl and a boy…”

He rubbed his thumb over the base of hers in acceptance and encouragement.

“…and, um, they’re sort of…”

“Sort of what,
chaton
?”

“Falling for each other.”

“Mm-hmm. I see it too,” he said softly, raising her hand to his lips again.

“But the girl doesn’t know what she’s doing and she’s nervous and she just…”

“She just?”

“She’s just never felt like this before.”

He clenched his jaw together, surprised by the impact her words had on his entire body, making him want to draw her into his arms and hold her close to him forever. She was going to get herself hurt being this honest, leaving her heart so open to plunder. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to make sure no one ever, ever hurt her, ever mangled her whole, trusting heart. And for the first time in his life, with the first girl, she made him want to be just as honest as she was. No game playing, just the truth. So he whispered,

“Neither has he.”

He released her hand and flipped around, leaning his elbows on the grass, his chin still resting on her belly. Her shirt had ridden up a little, and he bent his neck to press his lips to the pale strip of exposed skin there that smelled of clean cotton and sunshine, and just a little bit—he realized with a thrill—like him. When he leaned back up, she had her eyes closed, and her bottom lip was caught her teeth. Her breathing was quick and shallow.

And he suddenly knew if they moved any faster right this minute, it could scare her off, it could be a mistake. And if he made a mistake—like yelling at her yesterday—and she ran away, it would mean losing time with her when there was so little left to begin with. He couldn’t afford that. He wouldn’t surrender a moment—no, not even a second—of the time he had with Kate. He wouldn’t risk it.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up.

“Kate,” he said.

Her brows wrinkled together and she opened her eyes, surprised to find him standing over her. “What?”

“Let’s go get ice cream, and then I’m going to finish your painting.”

“Ice cream,” she repeated, shielding her eyes from the sun and looking both disappointed and the tiniest bit relieved.

Étienne reached down for her hands to help her up. She giggled as he pulled her to her feet, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to touch her. He needed to feel her. He pulled her into his arms, locking them around her back. His chest pushed into hers as his breathing grew ragged with her body soft and flush against his for the first time.

Burying his face in her clean-smelling hair, he muttered, “Why’d you have to be from New York?”

“At least I’m not from California,” she said, soft in his arms, her breath warm against the skin of his neck. “Or Sydney. Or London.”

He closed his eyes and grinned, savoring this moment, trying to memorize it for the rest of his life. Finally, he opened his eyes and pulled away from her, running his fingertips down her arm until he found her hand and tucked it securely in his.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

Kate grinned and nodded.

“We’re going to borrow my Dad’s car.”

“You’re not sixteen!” she exclaimed with wide eyes. “You don’t have your license yet.”

“That’s true,” he said wickedly, grinning at her. “Do you trust me, good little
chaton
?”

She licked her lips and pursed them together before nodding mischievously.

He almost kissed her right then and there, but held back, anxious not to misstep with his Kate. Not once. Not even a little bit. He would wait. For her, he felt like he would
wait
forever if that’s what it would take to
have
her forever.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, pulling her behind him across the grass, her giggles light on the breeze, every moment with her filling his heart to bursting.