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“No fucking way,” the billionaire said so swiftly that I couldn’t help laughing.
“If we’re really friends, it should be okay,” I teased.
But Sergei only looked at me, and I found myself laughing harder.
It was almost three in the morning when he drove me home, and the billionaire insisted on walking me up to my apartment. But instead of leaving as soon as we made it to my front door, he followed me inside and walked to my couch.
I blinked. “Sergei?”
“You can tick this off our bucket list,” he murmured.
“Tick what off?”
“Crashing on your couch for the night without any warning,” he said blithely.
When he started taking his shoes off, I realized he wasn’t joking at all, and I protested, “You don’t even fit on my couch!”
“Then shall you take the couch and I’ll take your bed?” the billionaire countered without looking up.
He was taking off his socks now, and I choked back a laugh. “Be serious.”
After setting aside his shoes and socks, he glanced up at me, murmuring silkily, “Iamserious.”
Our gazes clashed as my throat went dry.
We stared at each other.
Kick him out,I urged myself.
But instead I heard myself say, “We can share the bed—-” I saw his eyes widen, and I added hurriedly, “But we’re only going to sleep.”Shit, shit, shit. What am I saying?I looked at the billionaire, whose eyes were gleaming wickedly, and knew he was just as aware of my inner turmoil.
This was such a bad idea, but...
Every time I looked at Sergei Grachyov, he made me want to do bad things.
Chapter Five
