Her Improper Affair. Shea McMaster
glanced at her watch. Finally getting down to the last of the required photo ops. She’d soon be able to escape to the room her parents booked for her in the hotel. Out of town guests were all parked on the same floor. Drew and Meilin had the Windsor suite for two nights, after which the family would travel together to England. Maybe another hour and she could quietly sneak away.
The waiter returned with a full bottle of bubbly and refilled all the glasses on the table while the guests gathered around the dance floor. Since their table was on the edge of the floor, Birdie sat with her grandparents to enjoy the spectacle in comfort.
It took an hour, but once Drew and Meilin left for their elevator ride to heaven, his words, Birdie guzzled down one more glass of champagne, vowing to herself she’d chase it with water in her room, kissed her parents, then headed for the door, a tad more wobbly on her heels than she’d like to admit.
So far she’d managed to avoid Jack and any more dancing with Ozzie. Ping was the lucky winner of the bouquet toss and had kept Jack on a tight leash once he caught the garter.
There was only one flaw with her perfect escape plan. After she slipped into an empty elevator, Ozzie stuck his hand between the doors just before they closed.
At his raised brow, she gave him a twisted moue, then reached out to punch the number for her floor again, this time her fingers colliding with Ozzie’s hand reaching for the same button. The resulting electrical charge was enough she snapped her hand back.
“Giving up on the night?” he asked.
“Completely worn out. You?” To emphasize her exhaustion, she braced herself on the rail and reached down to undo the buckle of the ankle strap and pulled off one shoe.
Ozzie cleared his throat. “Yeah, me too. Totally knackered. That looks difficult. Need help?” Ozzie’s voice sounded a little strained.
Ignoring him, she removed the other shoe to the accompaniment of her bracelets. “There we go, easy peasy lemon squeezy. Ah, that feels good.” Eyes closed, she sighed and wiggled her toes into the thick pile of the rug lining the floor. The fact she was now four additional inches shorter than Ozzie made her think it had been a mistake to remove her shoes, but losing them felt too good to worry about anything else.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he all but croaked.
At the hoarse sound of his voice, she opened her eyes, then decided she had to be drunker than she’d thought. The very proper Oswald stared at her with what she could have sworn was lust in his eyes. The fact his regard made her breath catch in her throat only underlined her thought, because in that moment she couldn’t lie to herself. The man was seriously hot. If he ever took those glasses off, he’d be devastatingly handsome instead of garden variety male model beautiful. His eyes glittered with a fire she’d never seen in them before.
“You drunk?” she asked. “’Cuz I might be just a little, drunk, that is.” His stare certainly made her head spin as the elevator walls seemed to press inward, making the small car even smaller.
With just one step, Oswald was close enough she could smell the remains of his cologne, feel the heat of his skin. “Yes, I had a little too much. The bar had your father’s favorite whisky. Come to think of it, it’s my favorite as well.”
Yeah, now that he mentioned it, she could detect a faint trace of the distinctive Scotch that was always in a decanter at home. Wasn’t much to her liking, but the men had strange tastes, anyway.
“You need an escort to find your room?” Ozzie asked the question as the elevator dinged on their floor.
“No. No, no,” she stammered. “I’m good.”
Which didn’t mean he didn’t follow her down the hall to her assigned room. Then watched as she lifted the hem of her dress enough to pull the keycard from the top of her stocking. In the silence of the hallway, the increase of his breathing was clear.
“Let me help,” he said. The hand he placed on her thigh was hot to the touch, although dexterous, as he plucked the card from where she had it half extracted.
Thank goodness for the wall at her back. Otherwise she would have fallen right over. It was fifty-fifty as to whether she would have fallen into his arms or on the floor. Good old Mr. Wall kept her from doing either.
Ozzie quickly opened her door, then wrapped his arm around her waist and eased her into the room. Surely not as fancy as the suites occupied by the parents and the newlyweds, her single was still luxurious if somewhat small. She had a great view of Union Square and the Bay Bridge.
Ozzie didn’t bother checking out the view. He kicked the door shut and had her backed up against a wall before she could utter a squeak. His lips were hot on hers, and oh, so soft as he kissed her. Tentatively at first, until she slid her hands up his chest, then more insistent as her body felt as if it had burst into flames.
Always a man of few words, he didn’t say a single one, not verbally, anyway. Instead he spoke with his hands, body, and lips. While she debated the need for air weighed against his kiss, his mouth took command of hers. Air lost.
She’d been pretty sure she knew what being kissed felt like, but it took only a minute, or a lifetime, to discover she’d never really been kissed before. And Ozzie didn’t kiss like a proper gent. In fact, he stole her senses like a plundering pirate.
Neither had she ever been touched so well. Not that she’d had many men touch her. There’d never been anyone who intrigued her enough to divert her from her studies. Not like Oswald diverted her now.
His hands, so big and strong, slid over her hips, down her thighs, his fingers then slowly worked the skirt of her dress up her legs. That alone was enough to send her already dizzy senses on a new world tour. First his fingers found the lace tops of her stockings, followed by the bare skin above them, pushing the silk of her dress up, up, up. The cool air of her room washed her legs as more skin was exposed until his hands gripped her bottom. A mostly bare bottom thanks to her not-so-sexy thong. No, she’d worn the one that had a little stretch and helped hold her tummy in, while not revealing panty lines in the clinging dress.
She’d just begun to feel a little self-conscious when he lifted her off the ground, settling his groin between her legs, and pushed against her firmly enough to hold her on the wall, allowing his fingers to slip between and under the thin barrier of her panties. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, as tightly as her arms twined around his neck.
The man had mad skills. He never stopped devouring her mouth while stroking the tender skin, the folds that protected her very private vale between her legs.
Enough bubbly wine swam in her bloodstream that she couldn’t track each nuance of his touch. Somehow he snuck one hand behind her back and eased down the zipper of her dress until it sagged around her shoulders. Much too hot, her skin too sensitive to bear even the whisper of silk, she pulled her arms from the dress, pushing her bracelets off at the same time, letting them fall in a clatter to the carpet, and wrapped her arms around his neck again. The dress folded between them and fell off completely when he set her down near the bed.
He was much better at this than she was. Rising up on her toes, she slipped her hands beneath his coat and pushed it off his shoulders until he let go enough to shrug it off. Fussy Ozzie let the jacket of his tux fall to the floor, before reaching for the back strap of her bra. Somehow that disappeared too and her breasts pressed against the starched front of his shirt and the soft silk of his vest.
Ozzie’s hands came up between them and wrapped around her breasts. It felt so good she dropped her head backward and let him cradle her needy flesh.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
A tinge of embarrassment sent a small wave of heat across her skin. It disappeared when he bent to touch his lips to first one nipple and then the other.
“More,” she whispered, grasping his shoulders, wanting to feel his skin without the layers of his clothing between them.
He spared one hand to tug on his tie, loosening it, then undoing his