Page 25 of The Debt

Tatiana’s breath caught when he invaded her personal space. The subtle, fresh bouquet of her perfume teased his nostrils. Lifting his drink, he inhaled the spicy aroma of peppercorn infusion before taking a sip. The vodka opened with the subtle spice of black pepper, followed by hints of honey and citrus. The flavors were masterfully balanced against the spirit’s clean bite. The restaurant’s signature infusions respected the vodka’s character while adding layers of complexity.

“This is exceptional,” he said, studying the clear liquid in his glass. “Did you know that Nikolai created these infusions personally?”

“You know the history behind these?” Tatiana asked with raised eyebrows.

“Each recipe tells a story.” He took another sip, letting the warmth spread through his chest. “This one is inspired by his grandmother’s kitchen in St. Petersburg.”

“You must know Nikolai very well.”

“He’s an old and trusted friend.” Jarek shifted to lean his back against the balustrade. His eyes took a detailed tour of her. Her blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders in loose waves, framing delicate features while enhancing the striking sky-blue of her eyes. The sapphire-colored dress draped like a lover’s caress over her curvy frame. The off-shoulder neckline revealed just enough to tease. Delicate silver-gray heels elongated her already endless legs. Her makeup was subtle—a touch of shimmer on her eyelids, a hint of blush, and that maddening coral gloss on her lips that had tested his resolve since he had picked her up.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” He deliberately shifted the focus to her to avoid further discussion about the Russian chef.

“Three times now,” she said with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Are you trying to get me drunk on compliments, Mr. Farrel?”

“Would it work?”

“I’m not that easy to seduce.”

His laugh was low and knowing. “Your response in your office earlier suggests otherwise.”

The blush that swept across her cheeks matched the coral of her lips. Raising the glass, she took a long sip to hide her reaction.

“That was... unprofessional,” she managed.

“Professional is overrated.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Especially when you make those little sounds of protest that aren’t really protests at all.”

His index finger traced a path along her spine. He could feel her shiver beneath the silken fabric. The slight tremor and sharp intake of breath told him exactly how affected she was by his touch.

“Just to be clear, in case something I said at some point gave you the wrong impression—I never mix business with pleasure. Since what we have is very far removed from a professional relationship, and I don’t intend for that status to change, I suggest you don’t view me as a potential business associate, Ms. Polov.” His smile turned predatory as he watched the flush creep up her neck. “So, now that we have that ironed out... are you going to turn tail and run?”

Tatiana’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, drawing his attention to that tempting coral gloss. Her pupils dilated, nearly eclipsing the blue of her eyes.

“If I had any intention of running, I wouldn’t be here, Mr. Farrel.”

“Good.” He finished his drink, noticing with male satisfaction how her gaze followed the movement of his throat. “I assume since you’re of Russian descent, you prefer their cuisine?”

“To the contrary. I always choose French at Nikolai’s,” she said and closed her eyes. Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper. “Their pastries are absolute perfection.”

Jarek’s jaw tightened at her expression of pleasure as his body responded to the way she savored the thought.

“You are such a sensualist, Tatiana. How I’m going to make it through dinner without burying my head between your thighs for a taste of your tantalizing—”

“Jarek!” Her eyes flew wide open as she glanced around furtively. The blush that had started at her chest now blazed across her cheeks. Her fingers clutched the glass so tightly he worried it might shatter. “People may hear you.”

He was fascinated by the slight quiver in her breath. She was a confident, assertive businesswoman, which was why, when he’d first met her at the club, he had been surprised at how fully she embraced her submissive nature when they scened. It was something a true Dominant treasured since it was a gift of trust not easily offered. He suppressed the unexpected twinge of guilt at the route he was on.

Forcing his focus back to her, he set out to continue feeding the submissive inside her using his deep, Dominant tone of voice. An act he would otherwise never use in public since, like everyone in the lifestyle, it was a private choice… but the circumstances were different. Keeping her unbalanced with the subtle nuances of a Dominant gave him the edge he needed to rapidly break down the walls around her heart.

“There’s no shame in two people indulging in the pleasures of their bodies.” He shrugged, deliberately maintaining eye contact. “It’s the one reason why I love exploring kink at the clubs. There’s no pretense, even without sex during a scene. Everyone is open and honest to their needs when they go there.” His eyes swept the room. “None of this hiding behind decorum and pretending sex and lust don’t exist outside of the bedroom.”

“To each his own, as they say. But the lifestyle and the club are about much more than just sex and lust,” she said with a glint of steel in her eyes. “Although it’s how our scenes ended, it is not indicative of what submission or scening is all about.”

“Touche, Venus. You hit the nail on the head. It’s an exchange of power but only to the level the parties agree upon beforehand. Sex can be part of it, but in many cases, it doesn’t even factor. No scene between two people is complete unless they tap into each other’s emotions and needs, which at times have nothing to do with the carnal act of sex.” He smiled. “In our case, we both responded to emotions that drove us onto a euphoric cloud of lust that we reacted upon.”

There was no denying Tatiana’s reaction to his words as her chest rose and fell rapidly. His lips started to tingle as the desire to kiss the pulse hammering at the base of her throat became overwhelming.

The maître d’ approaching with hands clasped behind his back was a rather untimely interruption to the electric tension growing between Jarek and Tatiana.

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