Page 5 of Sinful Betrayal

I force myself not to look down again, to keep my eyes trained on her face, if only to stop my cock from becoming even harder.

Our drinks are set down in front of us, and I eagerly take a long swig of my scotch, welcoming the burn of the amber liquid. “Forgive me for prying, but what did you say your last name was?”

“I didn’t.” She swirls her straw around in her glass. “But it’s Balakin.”

“Balakin… I’ve not heard that before.”

“My family is back in Russia. It’s just me who came over to America.”

“Ah, that explains it. So, tell me, Nina, what brings you to New York?” I lean forward, resting an elbow on the table.

Nina takes a sip of her drink as she regards me with apparent interest.

I shift in my seat, my cock straining against my zipper under her intense gaze.

Her eyes are mesmerizing. It’s almost painful for me to look away.

“I’m studying ballet at the Institute of Dance.”

“Nina the ballerina.” I grin as my eyes flick over her body once more.

She’s so delicate, like a China doll, with the most perfect skin and bright blue eyes.

“Obviously, it was meant to be.” Her lips twitch as she fights a smile.

“Fate seems to be on your side.”

She shrugs, her pale cream sweater hanging off one shoulder.

“You look like a ballerina.”

“Oh?” She quirks an eyebrow.

“I mean, you look very…athletic.” I clear my throat and shift slightly in my seat as I try my hardest not to imagine how flexible she must be.

“I’ve been dancing since I was three. Ballet has been my life for nineteen years. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“That level of dedication is impressive.”

Nina shrugs, brushing off the compliment as she glances around. Her eyes land on a spot behind my shoulder, and she’s trying her best not to smile.

I turn and follow her gaze, immediately spotting a table with three girls, all eagerly waving at me. I can’t help but chuckle asI offer them my best charming smile before waving the waitress back over.

“Make sure that the drinks on the table over there are added to my tab.” I slip a hundred-dollar bill into her apron.

“Oh no, you don’t need to do that.” Nina flushes again, but I wave a hand.

“It’s the least I can do, considering I stole their friend for the rest of the night.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“You’re very confident.”

“You’re the one who decided to sit on my lap.” I hold my hands up in mock surrender.

Her cheeks grow a stronger shade of pink, and she looks away. “So, are those your wing women?”

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