for him: I was the voice of diplomacy and reason,
talking Vasiliy down, reigning in his worst excesses. I
could already see the changes in him: he was back to
being the Vasiliy I knew, tough but honorable. I was the
warmth that humanized him, just as Arianna was the
warmth that humanized Luka. And I had a second role
to play: I had Angelo to support too, the cool logic that
complimented his hot-headed arrogance.
I was a Malakov. And I was also a Baroni.
I screamed in delight as Angelo scooped me up into his
arms, one big hand coming down to squeeze my ass
through the turquoise swimsuit he’d bought me. Then
he carried me out into the water, the surf stroking past
our knees, then our thighs, then our hips. He pushed off
and we floated, face to face, in water that was slowly
turning gold in the sunset. He swept a lock of hair back
off my cheek and stared into my eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“Just looking at you,” he said, and kissed me. Then his
brow furrowed in concentration. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”
I blinked. The Russian words, wrapped up in that bass
growl of his, melted straight to my core and detonated
there. When had he learned that? I’d heard it in English,
but hearing it in Russian made it real. I could feel my
cheeks going hot, tears of happiness suddenly filling my
eyes. Malakovs don’t cry!
Maybe just this once.
Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one who’d been
studying. “Ti amo anch'io,” I told him. I love you, too.
With my accent, it didn’t sound all that Italian. But it
evidently didn’t matter because Angelo pulled me harder
against him, my breasts mashed against his pecs, and
kissed me until I forgot my own name.
When he finally broke the kiss, I was breathless and
grinning. “Back to the hotel?” I asked, thinking of the
king-sized bed in our room.
His hands swept down my back and closed on my ass. I
felt his cock harden against my thigh. Then he
whispered in my ear, that deep, musical growl
resonating right through my body. “Not just yet.”
<<<>>>
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed Kissing The
Enemy, please consider leaving a review.
Where now?
The story of how Arianna, a young CIA agent, is sent to
Moscow to seduce and spy on Luka, only to fall for him,
is told in Lying and Kissing. I’ve included the first four chapters to give you a taste – just turn the page!
The Malakovs also appear in Kissing My Killer, in which a Russian hit man is sent to assassinate a female
hacker...but finds he can’t pull the trigger and is forced
to go on the run with her instead.
There’s also a whole trilogy set at Fenbrook Academy.
Dance For Me is about a troubled ballet student who
falls for the billionaire who hires her as his muse. In
Harmony is about a good-girl cellist forced to team up with a bad boy rock guitarist. Acting Brave is about an actress trying to convince her sexy new co-star - and
herself - that her feelings for him are just part of the
show.
Would you like a free steamy ebook novella about a
ballerina who falls for a badass biker with a penchant
for BDSM? It’s called Losing My Balance and I wrote it
especially (and exclusively) for my newsletter readers -
sign up to get your free copy.
http://list.helenanewbury.com
Lying and Kissing Chapter 1
HIS VOICE was like slate-gray rocks grinding together,
immense and powerful. A voice that commanded. And
now and again, especially when he hit a hard k, the
rocks clashed with an explosion of sparks that sent
molten silver jetting down my spine.
When that happened, I squeezed my thighs together.
I’d been listening to his phone calls for a month.
I suspected he had a second phone. We don’t listen to
just anyone’s calls and if he really only ever talked to his
girlfriends, we wouldn’t be interested in him. But it was
the only phone tap we had on him, so I sat there each
day, back ramrod straight in my typist’s chair, and
listened and pretended to everyone around me that it
was just another boring transcription.
In reality, I listened to those long, rolling r’s and soft,
vibrating m’s and my fingers skittered over the keyboard
on autopilot. I was barely aware of what Elena or
Svetlana or Natalia said—his girlfriends all blended into
one mess of pouting, hurt Russian-ness as he seduced
them, slept with them and rapidly spurned them.
I was only concerned with him. Luka.
I didn’t get to know anything about Luka Malakov. I
didn’t even know what he’d done wrong to come to our
attention, but clearly he was a criminal of some kind
and a serious, big-time one. I told myself that meant he
must be old. He was probably a white-haired, fat guy in
his sixties, his nose red from too much vodka. I tried to
burn that image into my mind to stop my fantasies.
It didn’t work.
In my fantasies, that gorgeous voice had a body and a
face to go with it, all close-cropped, dark hair and Slavic
cheekbones. He had gleaming white teeth that could
bite softly at neck or nipple. A wide, powerful back and
big arms so that he could pick me up and—
Ahem.
I hit the foot pedal to pause the recording and took off
my headphones. It was Monday and I’d been at it for an
hour straight, catching up on all his calls over the
weekend. If I didn’t get some coffee, I was going to
lose myself completely in dreams of bad guys who
looked like movie stars.
The stupid thing is, I’m not even into bad guys. Every
boyfriend I’ve ever had has been...normal. Respectful.
When Harry took my virginity, under a tree on a warm
summer evening, he asked if I was sure so many times
that I eventually kissed him to shut him up. When I
broke up with Greg to come to Virginia, it was polite and
mature and utterly amicable—I think we even shook
hands. I couldn’t imagine being with a guy who seemed
to treat his women as disposable items, breaking up
with them after just a few days or weeks.
I couldn’t imagine it but, when I listened to Luka’s calls,
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t stop thinking
about a bad man who’d...use me.
Roughly.
I needed to get out more.
That probably goes for most of my department, to be
fair. No one who works here is completely normal. You
have to have a little something wrong with you, to want
to spy on people all day.
I was overdue a break, so I wandered through to the
cafeteria and got myself a latte. Sitting there by myself,
sipping my coffee, I could have been any insignificant
cog in any big corporate machine. Cheap gray suit. Long
hair the color of pecans. A body that isn’t slender
enough to be slim, but that doesn’t have the big boobs
and flaring hips men go for. Even my eyes are gray, and
gray’s not really a color.
Trust me: if you saw me in the street, you’d look right
past me.
There are no windows in our entire department,
squirreled away as we are at the heart of the building.
It’s easy to lose track of time and place. It was easy to
forget that I was in Langley in the middle of the
morning, with January snow on the ground outside. In a
way, I liked that. Anything that helped me forget it was
winter.
But it can be dangerous, losing your sense of where you
are. Sometimes, I have to transcribe one of Luka’s calls