Her Improper Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  The outer door to the lounge opened, and she heard whispers and giggles. Not only female, but a low male voice as well.

  Good God. She recognized that voice. Drew.

  She stepped from behind the wall near the sinks and caught her brother kissing his new wife.

  “Stop that, you two,” she called out.

  Meilin squeaked and Drew cursed.

  Birdie shook her finger at them. “This room is not empty and is not to be used for sneaky nookie in the middle of your party. Drew, get out of here.”

  “What if I pay you a hundred quid to guard the door for fifteen minutes?”

  Arms folded across her chest, Birdie planted herself firmly in the arch separating the anteroom from the tiled room behind her. “Not on your life. You are not bumping uglies in a nasty, dirty bathroom. Save it for your suite.”

  Drew groaned and buried his face in Meilin’s neck. The shameless woman merely laughed and patted his head.

  Birdie pointed at Drew, then the door. “You. Out.”

  Pouting and complaining, adorably, he went, leaving Meilin giggling her fool head off. Which was a little scary in itself. Meilin wasn’t the giggly type.

  “Time to get you situated, woman.” Birdie took her arm and steered her toward the sinks.

  By the time she helped Meilin freshen up, the bridesmaids had swarmed the ladies’ room, and Birdie vowed to wear a simple wedding dress should she ever get married. It shouldn’t take two women to hold the skirt up just to cop a squat.

  Fluffed and primped herself, Birdie had her hand on the doorknob when Meilin caught her shoulder and spun her around into a hug. “I’m so happy to have such a cool sister,” the bride gushed. Very un-Meilin-like, but Birdie figured she had a right on such an emotional day.

  “I’m happy too,” she assured her new in-law. “Now let’s get out of here.” A loud, pounding knock sounded on the door. “I think he’s about used up his limited store of patience.”

  Ping grabbed Meilin’s arm. “Let’s do this like going down the aisle, but Birdie first!”

  The ladies all agreed, and barely refraining from rolling her eyes, Birdie made her exit to find Drew, Jack, and Ozzie waiting in the hallway.

  “Patience, dear brother, patience,” she advised, patted him on the chest, then headed back to the ballroom. As she thought about it, a trip to Vegas or a Justice of the Peace was starting to sound like a great way to get married. Never mind what her mother had been planning for the past two decades.

  Back at the table, she picked up her empty champagne glass and waved at a nearby waiter. The dance floor was full, but her grandparents were sitting this one out.

  “Where are they?” Grandmother Robinson demanded, not one pearl or one strand of fluffy styled hair out of place.

  “Took a break to freshen up a bit, Gran. They’re on their way back,” she assured the self-proclaimed keeper of the family dignity. In addition, she pointed toward the entrance to the ballroom in time to catch the first of the bridesmaids leading the procession back. Finally Jack appeared escorting Yuahua, followed by Ping hanging on Ozzie’s arm. The attendants formed a path, and the bride and groom made their second entrance into the ballroom to the sound of applause as the DJ announced it was time for the bouquet and garter tosses.

  Birdie 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. Tentati
vely 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 collar. Birdie raised her head and took over undoing the studs holding his shirt closed while he unbuttoned the vest.

  His arms went around her, and he cursed under his breath.

  “What’s that?” She finished with the front of his shirt and pressed her hands against the warm skin of his chest. So defined, and hard, and warm. He had a little hair, but not much. Just enough to tickle her palms.

  “Cufflinks,” he responded. “Damned nuisance.”

  She snuggled closer, enjoying the warmth of his chest against hers, letting her hands glide over his skin, down his sides, and around to his back where she discovered more muscled contours. So different from the boys who’d tried to get her into bed, or out of her swimsuit in the pool.

  This was different. This was her wanting Ozzie as much as he appeared to want her. Finally, with a final curse, he shrugged the vest and shirt from his shoulders, then wrapped his arms around her back again, his hands soothing and heating her at the same time.

  “Okay there?”

  “Yes. Very okay,” she said with her lips against his skin. “Touch me. All over.” As much as she wanted his touch, a tiny part of her had trouble believing this was happening. Never, ever, had she truly imagined Ozzie wanting her. Well, she’d certainly managed to believe he wanted to strangle her a time or two, but this? No. How had she not picked up on this? The way he made her feel now was almost too much, and yet, not enough. She wanted him like she’d never wanted anything else in her life.

  “As you wish,” he whispered against her ear, causing shivers of heat to race along every nerve in her body. From there his lips traveled down her neck, teasing and gently nipping. His hands stroked every inch of her back, pulling her closer, reverently touching, inflaming her as she did the same to him, her lips brushing along his collarbone.

  When his hands once more palmed her rear cheeks, she wanted to feel his. Not that his clothes could hide the perfect shape of them, but she was suddenly hungry to feel his flesh, every bit of it. She followed the waistband of his slacks around to the front. One of his hands stopped her when she fumbled with the fastening.

  “Easy, love. Not yet.”

  “Not fair,” she complained. “I want to touch you too.”

  “No. Never said this would be fair.”

  Her world tilted, then stopped. He’d laid her back on the turned-down bed. It took another few seconds for him to tug the covers out from under her. He didn’t give her a chance to move before he crawled between her legs, holding her down with his hips perfectly aligned with her pelvis.

  “Okay?”

  In answer she reached up and gently pulled his glasses from his face. “I want to see your eyes.” Somehow the glasses found their way to the bedside table as she stared into the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. Oswald’s silvery blue eyes darkened with his focus one hundred percent on her. This time it was a shiver of pure heat that weakened her limbs. She reached up to lock her hands behind his neck and pull him down for a kiss. The move, while foreign to her, felt completely natural and right, their gazes never leaving one another until their lips met.

  The kiss was hot enough to melt her into the linens beneath her.

  Oswald kissed her until they both needed great gulps of air, but he didn’t pause upon leaving her lips. He began an exploration of her face, never giving her chance to kiss him back. Instead she tunneled her fingers into his soft, thick, close-cropped hair. He could grow it a little longer, she thought, the better to touch and pet.

  At her earlobe, he used his teeth to gently nip, sending a shot of fire straight to the quivering spot between her legs. The minutes passed while she lost herself in his touch as he moved down her throat, across her collarbone and shoulders, around her now aching breasts, teasing her, avoiding the nipples so peaked they almost hurt. His hands cuddled her breasts, gently squeezing, molding, shaping them to his heart’s content, driving her mad.

  The hard length of him pressed into her, reminding her she wanted his pants off. His shoulders blocked her way, and when he settled his lips around one nipple and sucked, she tossed her head, forgetting her goal to undress him. Involuntarily her hips rose, pressing her needy parts against the part of him she wanted inside her.

  Oswald switched to the other breast and suckled the nipple, his fingers rolling the wet one, ramping her up more. If he kept that up, she might very well come from the nipple attention alone, but she’d sure hate for her first orgasm with a man to happen that way. This time she wanted everything.

  She might technically still be a virgin, but she knew what went where. She knew how it was supposed to happen. All those romance novels had to get that right, didn’t they? And yes, afte
r one bad experience she’d sworn to herself to wait for the right moment. The right man. Sure, she’d been kissed, had even participated in petting, but she’d never gone all the way. The way he inflamed her, she knew Ozzie was the right man.

  She tugged on his ears until he looked up at her. The sight of him with his mouth around the peak of her breast was almost as arousing as the feel of him there. And then he grinned and all her brains fled.

  The man was downright gorgeous when he smiled, especially without his glasses on. No wonder women followed him both with their eyes and their feet. He certainly hadn’t lacked for dancing partners at the reception, every single woman hoping he’d be with her like this tonight. Instead, he wasn’t with them. He was with her.

  She fought to find air. Ozzie. With her. Making her feel things she’d only dreamed about.

  Their gazes locked, his grin faded as he wrapped his lips once more around her nipple and sucked it into his mouth. The intense heat emanating from his eyes started a core meltdown.

  Every nerve ending in her body spiked as if she’d been hit with a live wire. She especially wanted to connect their parts. Once more, her hips rose, and she pressed her very wet panties to the front of his trousers.

  “You’re killing me,” she moaned. “More.”

  He didn’t speak—his mouth was too full for that—but he did move his free hand down her stomach and into the front of her panties.

  His fingers passed through the trimmed patch of hair before touching the heated core, riding the slick juices his touch produced to slip between her folds.

  “So sweet,” he managed to say around her breast. Or rather moaned. The vibrations an incredible, new, never before imagined sensation.

  She wished the man had four hands and two mouths so he could touch her and lick her everywhere at the same time.

  “Please,” she begged, her body aching to be possessed fully by him. Only him. She’d never wanted a man the way she wanted him now, a fact that she’d have to think about later.