Page 65 of Emerald Malice

When I turn my head to look at her, she does the same.

“This is all it is,” I announce quietly. “All it can be. Just sex. Nothing more.”

Natalia turns her gaze back to the ceiling. “Understood.”

With the agreement sealed, I get to my feet and put my clothes back on. “Goodnight.”

I’m almost to the door when I hear footsteps. She’s in her robe again, something clutched in her fist. It isn’t until she shoves it at me that I realize what she’s holding.

She grabs my hand and folds something against my palm. I don’t need to open my hand to know she gave me two crisp hundred-dollar bills. The same amount I threw on her coffee table the first time we slept together.

Her emerald eyes are trained on me with smug satisfaction. “Goodnight, Andrey.”

Then she slams the door in my face.

23

NATALIA

As it turns out, throwing a fistful of post-sex cash at a smug asshole and kicking him out the door is one hell of a turn-on.

I mean, I knew it would be for me.

I just didn’t expect it to be a turn-on for him, too.

But as always, Andrey Kuznetsov takes me by surprise.

I expected to see little of him after that. I didn’t, at first. I spent most of the day at work and then, when I was back home, Mila and I decided to have dinner by the pool. Afterward, still no sign of Andrey, Mila and I watched Pretty Woman—always a classic, though never quite so applicable to my life as this time around—and then said goodnight around ten.

I swapped my sweats for an oversized t-shirt and my favorite pair of granny panties. With the windows thrown open for some cross-ventilation, I was ready to nod off to sleep.

That’s when I heard footsteps on my porch.

Eyes opened, I waited with bated breath. Then the lock turned in the door.

There’s only one person who has a key to the pool house.

Andrey was framed by moonlight as he strode into my bedroom. He pulled his shirt over his head, and I caught the faint whisper of cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes.

Inconvenient though it was to accept, I was, God help me, excited.

“Been waiting for me, lastochka?” he growled as he slipped into bed beside me. He coiled his body around mine, his heat making my head spin.

“I was already asleep.”

“Liar.” He pulled me against his chest. “But you weren’t expecting me, that much I can tell for myself.” I tried to squirm away from him, but he just gripped me tighter. “No need to be embarrassed, little bird. All the sexless underwear in the world wouldn’t have kept me from your bed tonight.”

Rebelling against every instinct of self-preservation I’ve ever had, I let him pull me back into the circle of his arms.

“You looking for more pocket money?” I couldn’t help but taunt. “Because I’m fresh out.”

To my surprise, he laughed. “Maybe I’ll pay you tonight.”

I pulled out of his arms and straddled him. My hands ran up and down his ridiculously sculpted chest, all the while trying desperately not to let his masculine perfection distract me.

“How about we call it even?” I suggested as his hardness ground against me from below. “You don’t pay me; I don’t pay you. No point in just passing the same handful of cash back and forth, right?”

“Sex without money changing hands?” he mused. “Sounds boring.”

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