Page 12 of Disgraced (Russian Sinners 3)

“Go ahead and answer it,” I told her. “We have plenty of time.”

Smiling gratefully, she answered.

“Hey,” she greeted whoever was calling.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Whoever was on the other line of the phone must have said something that annoyed her.

“He really should stop worrying so much,” she muttered. “Yes, I’ll be back later. Just go to dinner without me. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

I heard a chuckle over the phone and Scarlett blushed at whatever was said. “Okay, this is over. Bye.”

She hung up the phone and put it away.

“Sorry about that,” she looked at me apologetically.

“No worries.” Although I was curious what was said that made her blush so hard. “Are you ready to eat?”

She nodded and I took her hand again into mine. It fit just right in mine. I didn’t want to question why I enjoyed her touch so much. She didn’t object to it, which pleased me enormously.

“There is a restaurant called Palkin,” I told her. “It is one of the oldest restaurants in the city and they serve exclusively Russian food.”

“Sounds great,” she beamed. “I love all kinds of food.”

I eyed her slim body and she laughed. “Hey,” she objected, “don’t judge a book by its cover. I can totally eat. And there better be a dessert too.”

Fuck, I knew exactly what I would love for dessert. There must have been something Scarlett saw on my face because she blushed beet red.

I cleared my throat. “There’ll be a dessert,” I intended to say it lightly but ended up sounding way too suggestive as it came out on a groan.

Two hours later, we were still at the restaurant, seated by the window watching nightfall and St. Petersburg under the bright light of the full moon. We were sharing a dessert. Scarlett opted for Chantilly Mint Mousse. She wasn’t joking when she said she could eat. She had a healthy appetite, and it was refreshing to see a woman enjoy her meal rather than pretend she wasn’t hungry. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much.

“Okay, you are looking at me weird,” she announced with a big smile. “It’s starting to freak me out.”

She might have had a glass of wine, or two, that relaxed her. I really liked her relaxed, with a light blush on her cheeks. From the moment we met, there was no pretense in her character but relaxed like this, she was adorable.

“I like watching you eat,” I told her, chuckling. I really loved watching her… period. “It is a nice change.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I bet. But not to worry, I’m done devouring food.”

“Would you like another glass of wine?”

“You kidding me? Another glass and I might start taking your clothes off. Or mine,” she blurted out. Then as she realized what she said, she added, “That would be no more alcohol for me. Thank you.”

I certainly hoped that meant she found me somewhat attractive. Because I thought her very attractive and couldn’t wait to make her mine.

I signaled the waiter for the bill. He scurried over, and I left him with extra so we could get out of there. As we stood up, I placed my hand on the small of her back.

The playful side of me that hasn’t been as evident lately kicked in. I couldn’t resist bending my head, then I whispered against her ear, “I’m totally okay with you taking my clothes off.”

She gasped, her face turning to me in shock. She was beautiful like that, her lips slightly open, her eyes wide. Her reactions were natural, not an ounce of pretense in it. I could see desire reflecting mine in them and my cock approved. Scarlett O’Brady was everything I needed in my future.

The second we exited the restaurant, the cool air of the night hit us and Scarlett shivered. Days in late August were still hot but nights were slowly getting cooler. I pulled her closer to me and she leaned her body against mine.

“Wow, you are hot,” she murmured. “I mean, warm. Temperature wise.”

Inwardly, I chuckled. Damn, she was sexy and she wasn’t even trying. I’d hate to think what would happen if she tried to be sexy. She could play me any way she wanted, wrapping me around her little finger.

“Thanks,” I grinned like an idiot. “Should I take you home?”

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