Free Kiss Me Kate (The English Brothers Book 6) by Katy Regnery

breasts, then sliding like warm honey to her belly.
    “Oh,” she murmured.
    He shrugged, offering her an adorable smile as he raked a hand through his floppy hair. “What can I say? I’m an ass-man.”
    He started walking again, and Kate took a deep, ragged breath, trying to fill her lungs, before hurrying to fall into step beside him. Had he just insulted her or complimented her? He’d somehow managed to call her fat-assed and perfect at the same time, which was sort of mean, but sort of amazing. With Stratton’s words from this morning— steer clear —still resonating in her head, she had to admit she was fascinated by him: he was edgy and teasing, brooding and provocative, crazy handsome and way too sexy for a teenager. Just being near him was making her body hot and shivery at the same time. There was no way she was cutting bait yet.
    “Where do you go to school?” he asked conversationally once she’d caught up with him.
    “Trinity Prep.”
    “In Manhattan?” He turned to her with slightly narrowed eyes. “You’re not from Philadelphia?”
    “Just visiting,” she managed. Me and my fat, perfect ass. “Where, um, where do you go to school?”
    “St. Michael’s,” he said. “With your cousins.”
    “Yeah, that’s what Stratton said.”
    “Asking around about me, huh?”
    “No! No, I-I just…I mentioned that I met you. Last night. On the trampoline.” On the trampoline? Really, Kate?
    “I wasn’t actually on the trampoline,” he pointed out.
    No, you were barefoot and beautiful beside it.
    “Are you friends with Betsy?” he asked.
    “Yeah, I know her from summer camp.”
    “So, I bet you’ve heard a lot about me.”
    No, actually. Kate had never heard of him until last night.
    She twisted her neck to look at him, her breath catching at the sight of his profile staring straight ahead as he walked beside her. His skin was pale, which made his long black lashes look extra dark and thick. His cheekbones were chiseled and manly, making him look much older than fifteen, and when Kate’s eyes dropped to his lips, she felt another rush of heat in her belly.
    “Um…heard like, um, what?”
    “Like I don’t have girlfriends,” he informed her, his voice confident and cool, like he was a college guy or a character in a movie. “I have flings.”
    Whoa.
    No, Betsy had definitely not shared this shocking, riveting bit of information with Kate. It seemed like an awfully bold thing for him to tell her, but Kate couldn’t help the way it made her feel—all nervous and excited and suddenly out of breath. She had to work hard to control the whimper that lodged in her throat, threatening to squeak free.
    “F-flings?”
    “Mm-hm,” he purred, and was it her imagination, or was his toe-curling French accent getting that much thicker? “In fact…I’m looking for one this week.”
    “A fling.”
    “Mm-hm.”
    His shoulder brushed into hers and it made her heart pump so fast, so loud, she wondered if he could hear it too. “Oh.”
    “What are you looking for this week, Kate?”
    She stopped walking, handling the leather strap as she looked up at him earnestly. Kate knew she wasn’t as cool as he was, nor, she suspected, anywhere near as experienced. She wasn’t even totally sure he was kind, but from the moment she saw him last night, he’d zoomed up her list of the most intriguing, captivating people she’d ever met. And all she wanted was to spend her week scratching through that pseudo-cool, smooth, flippant, smirky exterior and discover what was underneath. At a loss about how to say all of this without appearing psycho and desperate, she deferred with,
    “I don’t know.”
    He cocked his head to the side. “Because it kind of seemed like you were looking for me, too.”
    Her breath hitched again, but then something occurred to her. She lifted her eyes to his, a more confident smile spreading her lips. “Wait. Too ?”
    His cool façade slipped, and the smile he answered her with