Oliver interjects, “Hey, Grey, can you grab the other two bags? I’ll go and check us in.”
Grey nods and strides around the car to retrieve our stuff from Wilfred.
Misha steps in front of me, curious. “What shoe size do you wear?”
“Eleven,” I reply, wondering where he’s going with this.
“Perfect,” he grins, and to my surprise, he starts unlacing his dress shoes.
“What on earth are you doing?” I ask, bewildered.
Without answering, Misha crouches down in front of me. He removes my torturous high heels, placing a soft kiss on each of my shins as he does so. Then, he slips his own shoes onto my feet before standing up and sliding into my heels. He extends his hand to me, saying, “Come on, Bug,” while I’m still gawking at him in astonishment.
I laugh as I stand. Now he’s taller than me, and looks down with an amused expression, which feels oddly disconcerting.
Misha lets go of me when Wilfred steps around the Bentley and up to me. He pulls me into a warm, unexpected hug. “I can’t wait to hear about the big things you accomplish,” he whispers with a genuine smile.
“Thank you,” I whisper back, and with one last glance and a wave, Wilfred turns and heads back to the car, driving off into the night.
“Okay, let’s try this,” Misha grins and takes a few wobbly steps, teetering precariously at first. After a couple of yards, though, he seems to get the hang of it.
Enough to make it into the hotel, at least.
Grey, coming up behind us, shakes his head in disbelief. “Damn, Misha.”
I walk alongside him as he wobbles past the hotel lobby, where Oliver is at the reception desk, checking us in.
Misha grimaces, clearly uncomfortable. “God, why do women do this to themselves?” As we reach the elevator, he sways dangerously. I instinctively reach out to steady him, my hands finding purchase on his hips.
No need to fuck up his ankle again.
“Because it makes us taller,” I explain, amused by his struggle.
His hand comes up to stroke my cheek tenderly. “There’s nothing wrong with being short.”
I lean in to give him a quick peck on the lips, smiling. “You’re right. It’s rather hot, actually.”
His eyes light up at my words before he leans in, capturing my lips in a deeper, more passionate kiss, and I melt into it. Just then, the elevator pings and Oliver joins us.
“What on earth, Misha?” he exclaims, seeing Misha in my heels.
We chuckle, and once inside, Grey pulls me close, his strong arms encircling my waist as he kisses me, leaving me breathless.
When we reach our floor, Oliver fumbles with the key card before unlocking the room, and we all walk in, depositing our luggage haphazardly. It’s a big room with two queen-size beds next to each other.
Right. We’ve never slept in a room together before.
Misha dramatically kicks off the high heels, eliciting a giggle from me as I bend down to remove his shoes as well. They shed their suit jackets, Misha and Grey tossing them carelessly over nearby chairs while Oliver folds his and sets it down with care.
I can’t help but admire how devastatingly handsome they all look in their crisp shirts and well-fitted trousers.
Mine.
All three of them.
“You’re stunning,” Oliver says, stepping up to me, his eyes reflecting the same admiration I feel.
I draw him in, my hand cupping his face as I whisper, “I need your lips, too,” before kissing him tenderly. He responds with unexpected fervor, pulling me closer, his fingers trailing along my waist and the silky fabric of my dress.
