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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