Smooth Kisses Page 2

  “Yessir. I believe your assistant is waiting to take you to the suite down the hall.” He bows deferentially and extends a hand toward the doors.

  I slip him a large tip. “Sorry for the boys. They don’t get out much.”

  Kevin discreetly pockets the tip. “It is my pleasure, sir.”

  I paste on my deal-making smile and push open the double doors, only to stop suddenly in utter shock. One of the heavy doors slips out of my hand and I barely catch the edge before it bashes me in the face.

  Anna makes the introductions while I stand like an idiot staring at the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. “There you are, Andrew. I’m excited to introduce you to the latest Lennox Luxury Living acquisition—Selena Smooth. The staff calls her Smooth for her ability to make sure every guest has an amazing time. Selena, this is the man of the hour.”

  Only her name registers. Selena Smooth. The rest of it is noise. I step forward, my movements slow and sluggish. So this is what swimming in a vat of honey feels like. It’s not as terrible as I thought. I take my future wife’s hand in mine and pull her close. “Nice to meet you, Smooth.”

  Her hand fits perfectly in mine, just as I imagine our bodies will fit together. Her limbs slotted against my limbs. Her softness against my rapidly growing hardness.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Anna murmurs.

  I barely register her leaving. I can’t take my eyes off of Selena’s wheat gold hair shimmering under the lights of the crystal chandelier I had made in Venice. Her eyes are a deep blue, almost violet. Her skin smells like honey and wildflowers. I dip my nose down to take a deeper whiff when her hand strikes me hard enough in the cheek to whip my head to the side.

  I give my head a hard shake and frown. “What the fuck was that for?”

  “Man of the hour, are you? Well, I’m not interested in any cheating bastard.” She jerks out of my grip and takes a step back, her chin so far in the air I’m worried she might tip over. “And you can’t acquire me. I’m not for sale.”

  3

  Smooth

  My reputation for being cool, calm and smooth has gone down the drain in a matter of a few seconds. There is nothing I despise more than a cheater. Sure, I smacked a paying customer which will most likely get me in a heap of trouble, but the man was out of line. I was drawing a line in the sand. These men are going to be here for a week. That shit isn’t going to fly with me or what could have been another guest.

  His eyes raked over my body as if he were memorizing each part of it. Then he spoke as though he owned me. I fought the slice of desire that ran over my skin when I saw him. Before he’d touched me or even opened his mouth I might have thought belonging to him wouldn’t be a bad thing. I’d even been jealous of his wife-to-be.

  He leaned forward into my space as if he was going to kiss me. It had momentarily shocked me. My body might have wanted it but my mind knew better. Even if I had to remind myself not to lean forward into him. He belonged to someone else.

  I focus on the sting that still lingers on the palm of my hand. I’ve never struck a person before today. The lick of anger he incited inside of me came out of nowhere. I should have taken a step back. Hell, I simply could’ve told him to step back but I struck him. The anger is uncontrollable. I am anything but smooth in this moment. My eyes lock with his. He only gazes back at me, saying nothing. I guess I shocked us both.

  It’s clear I’ll need someone else to handle the party. I might even lose my job at this point. Who knows? If I still have a job, there isn’t a chance in hell I will make it through this without losing it.

  His hand lingers touching his cheek as we stand here staring at one another. A smirk starts to form on his lips that has my anger growing more. The tension in the room is so thick I can feel it all around us. I am ready for him to yell at me. Not smile. Why that makes me angrier I have no idea but it does. Again, I don’t feel in control of my reactions.

  Neither of us has said a damn word since I let him know that I’m not one of his possessions. His eyes remain focused on mine as if I hadn’t spoken the words at all. Or he is choosing not to listen to them.

  “If there is anything else you need, please contact my assistant Violet. She will be helping you going forward.” I push out to break the silence. I’m not going to have a staring battle with the man. “A word of advice, Mr. Smith. Hands to yourself unless invited.” I want to snatch the unless invited back. He’s to be married. No one should be inviting him to touch anything. Again that jealousy hits me. Yeah. I so can’t handle this man. Something is off with me. I need to get away from him as quickly as possible.

  He still doesn’t respond to me as I turn and head toward the elevators, trying to dismiss him. When I glance back he’s still standing there but now he’s wearing a full-blown smile. Something is off with him too. Who smiles after being slapped? Most men would be in a fit of rage. I not only shut down his advances but I hit him too.

  I snap my head back to the elevator doors as I press the button and wait. I can feel his eyes on me. His stare causes my body to heat even though it knows how wrong it is to desire him. His handsome stupid smile is now branded into my brain. Not only does he belong to someone else but he doesn’t care that he does. He doesn’t treasure love as it should be. He mocked it like my mom.

  I take a deep breath to calm myself. I need sleep and food. That’s what’s wrong with me. I reach to find a reason for why I’m so out of sorts. I smell him before I feel his warmth directly behind me. I try to breathe through my mouth in order to fight his sweet, oaky scent. It’s been trying to consume me since I got the first whiff of it. My thoughts are jumbled by his nearness. His nonresponse isn’t helping me because he is so unpredictable. Maybe that is what has me off kilter. I will myself not to turn around. My body naturally leans back a little, betraying me. He’s so close but somehow he manages not to touch me. I try to pretend he’s not there but the elevator isn’t coming fast enough.

  “Do you make it a habit of assaulting people and then running off?” His deep voice rolls over me, causing my nipples to pucker. His words are said with a hint of amusement rather than anger. Is this a game to him? A little cat and mouse to entertain him. Is he being so persistent because he doesn’t enjoy being turned down?

  “Do you have a habit of getting into people's personal space?” I turn to look up at him. I know I shouldn’t but I don’t want him to think he has me off kilter. Like before, those dark eyes suck me in. Everything about him screams dominant and consuming, but his eyes dance with mischief.

  Not a game. He’s actually enjoying this. “No.” He answers without hesitation.

  “Maybe you should get back to the party.” I nod to where the noise is growing louder by the second. The elevator dings. I turn a little too fast, causing my hair to graze him as I step into the elevator. I swear I feel his fingers touch it ever so softly.

  Relief and a wave of sadness hit me as the doors start to close. How can I be trying to escape but wishing that circumstances were different and I could stay? He has me all twisted up inside. I reach out to hit the button for the bottom floor. My anger returns and before the doors shut on his gorgeous face, I open my mouth again. Me being unable to control my reaction to him is still riding me hard. “Try not to cheat on your fiancée, Mr. Smith.” I use what I know is his fake name. Maybe that’s why all the cloak and dagger. He doesn’t want her finding out what her soon-to-be husband has been up to. “Don’t need someone showing up and causing a scene.” The smile drops from his face. That’s the last thing I see before the doors close fully.

  That makes me smile. I don’t think he’s a man who doesn’t get the last word often and I’ve stolen it from him.

  Or maybe I didn’t have the last word after all.

  4

  Andrew

  Try not to cheat?

  The words confuse me more than the physical blow. I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about. I drag my phone out of my jacket and call Anna.
<
br />   “Yes, sir. Shall I draw up an employment contract for Ms. Smooth?” she asks.

  I rub my cheek. “I’d like to see her psych evaluation.” I want to make sure that I’m not pursuing a crazy woman, although I’m not sure finding out that she doesn’t have a full set upstairs would really deter me. My dick’s harder than it’s ever been. I press the heel of my hand against my cock and hope it subsides. I don’t need drunk bachelor Dixon finding me like this and announcing to the equally drunken partygoers that I need some attention. I turn back to the phone and realize Anna hasn’t spoken a word.

  “Anna?”

  “Well, you see, sir, we don’t use the psych evaluation anymore. It wasn’t technically legal.”

  “I know that.” I also don’t care. In order to run the best resorts in the world, you have to have the best employees. I pay top dollar, which means my resorts get the best workers, but sometimes we have slip-ups and those can be expensive. We hired one guy who had great references and a great resume but an annoying habit of urinating on the floor in high pressure situations. We got him some help, but he had to go. To prevent situations like that in the future, I instituted a psych analysis. We don’t call it that because like Anna says, it’s not legal, but there are ways to get around it that people don’t realize.

  “Ms. Smooth recognized our test right away, pointed out it wasn’t appropriate and suggested a new vetting method.”

  “And it works?”

  “We haven’t had a staff problem since she began. It’s why I suggested you meet her. I really think she’d be an asset to the front office. She’s wasted here.”

  “She slapped me.”

  “What?” Anna gasps.

  “She slapped me and accused me of being a cheater.”

  “I, ah, I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll get HR to process her termination immediately.”

  “No. That’s not necessary. I think she’ll be perfect by my side.”

  “Y-your side, sir?”

  “Yes. You might as well find a wedding planner, Anna.”

  “For who?” she asks, her voice faint because she’s smart and has suspicions but wants to confirm first.

  “For me and Smooth. I’ll let you know if she wants to keep her name.” I hang up before Anna can ask any more questions. “If I was Smooth, where would I go?” The answer pops into my head immediately. “Lobby.”

  The penthouse elevator speeds me to the ground floor. Sure enough, Smooth is at the front desk, talking to a male guest who is loudly expressing his concern that his room doesn’t have a good enough view of the ocean.

  I hang back to watch as she finesses the guest into a room that not only does not have an ocean view, but overlooks the golf course instead. She hands him a voucher for a free golf cart and a reservation for an eleven o’clock tee time. By the time she has the suitcases on the valet cart, the man’s beaming and ready to propose. As in, he’s bent over her hand and about to kiss it.

  My turn.

  I stride across the room and clear my throat loud enough to catch the guest’s attention. “Sir, nice to have you at our hotel.” I insert myself between the two, lifting the grubby paw off my future wife. With a snap of my fingers, a bellman comes over. “Please show our guest to his room. Miss Smooth, please come with me.”

  First confusion and then annoyance flash across Smooth’s face. She’s quick to mask her feelings, but I’m attuned to her now. She plasters on a polite smile but her tone is sharp.

  “Sir, I would appreciate it if you would allow me to handle the guests. It’s my job. Additionally, I’d be happy to assist you if you care to tell me what the problem is.”

  “The problem is that you think I’m a cheater, which I’m not, so I came down to straighten that out.”

  Her jaw tightens but the smile remains. She’s a true professional. I adore her.

  “It’s really none of my business what you do in the privacy of your hotel room. It is the Lennox motto that all of our guests are afforded the utmost privacy,” she says.

  “I know. I wrote that motto.”

  “Then you should—wait, what?” Her brow furrows.

  I’m tempted to reach up and smooth the wrinkles away, but she’d probably slap me and while I don’t mind her hands on me, that’s not really the type of touching I’m interested in from her. Unless we were naked and that’s what got her going because if she’s got kinks, I’m going to be the one to fulfill them. It doesn’t matter what kind of bedroom fetish she has, either. I’m down for all of them. I just want her naked, wet, and panting—and it doesn’t have to be in that specific order either. She could be fully clothed while I bend her over a desk and fuck her from behind for all I care. I could inch up her tight skirt until her ass is uncovered, pull her thong to the side (and I know she’s wearing one because there is no panty line) and slide my thick, heavy cock inside her hot, tight sex. My blood starts thrumming. Yeah, that would be a very good way to start my morning.

  But, first, I should probably introduce myself since she appears to be confused as to my identity.

  “Ms. Smooth, we weren’t properly introduced, but the bachelor is my friend, Dixon Neal, who is here as sort of a test run to see how much damage a group of rowdy drunk people can inflict and not be a nuisance to the rest of the guests. And I”—I take her now limp hand as she stares at me in shock—“I am Andrew Lennox.”

  “No,” she states in horror.

  “Yes, but don’t worry. I’m not firing you. I’m here to offer you a job.”

  5

  Smooth

  Oh God. This is not happening. I smacked the new owner. Well, the owner of Lennox Luxury Living. The company that purchased this resort three weeks ago. I knew his name wasn't John Smith. I surmise Lennox is his last name and of course John Smith was a fake name he used for the room. I focus my attention on him and get to work trying to smooth things over. I place the biggest smile I can on my face.

  “Mr. Lennox.” I’m not sure if I’m greeting him or asking him if that's his name.

  “Call me Andrew.” His hand grasps mine a little tighter while he pulls me closer into him. We stand here in silence. My brain slowly begins to go over everything that he’s said in the last few minutes. It’s working overtime trying to make sense of what is happening with this man. Wait, did he offer me a promotion? Shouldn’t he be firing me? I’m unable to make heads or tails of this entire situation. The warmth of his hand has me looking down to discover that our handshake has now morphed into hand holding. That sight snaps me out of the trance he has me in. He’s my boss, for heaven's sake.

  “I should advise you to fire me,” I admit. “You can’t have employees hitting people.” His hand tightens more around mine.

  “If a man makes you feel uncomfortable”—he steps more into me—“gets into your space and you don’t like it, I’d advise you hit them.” I can’t tell from his tone if he’s teasing me or not.

  “You’re not getting married?” This is not what I should be asking right now. Hell, it’s not even what I should be thinking about. What I need to be doing is apologizing for mistaking him for someone else. Yet here I am poking into his private life, which is none of my business. I know how important privacy is to Lennox but I continued to ask a personal question anyway. He makes me do and feel strange things when he is around. Not only that, but I told him that he should fire me. There is seriously something wrong with me.

  “I’m not engaged,” he confirms. Why did he word it like that? I want to ask more questions but I make myself focus elsewhere. It doesn’t matter if he’s married, engaged or has a string of lovers. He’s my boss. Nothing more. Or I think he’s my boss. He isn’t firing me. Yet.

  “I also should advise you not to tell employees it’s okay to hit people.” I keep on digging my own grave. I quietly wish that I could glue my mouth closed. My questions are all over the place. My communication skills seem to have vanished into thin air. If someone were to overhear our conversation they would never guess that my nic
kname is Smooth. I sound more like a babbling fool.

  “What else would you advise me?” I think he’s teasing me. A small smirk pulls at his lips but his eyes remain serious. He is too hard to read. He’s a bit mischievous, which surprises me. He seems to enjoy our little back and forth. My inability to gauge his moods has me going haywire. I think that’s the root of my problem. I decide the first thing I need to do is put a little distance between us so that I’m able to get my bearings. I’ll be able to conduct myself in a more professional manner when his hand isn’t holding mine.

  “To let my hand go?” It comes out as a question rather than advice. He gently releases my hand but doesn’t look happy about doing it. I miss his touch as soon as it’s gone. I push that thought aside and focus on finishing this conversation. “Why don’t we both get a breath of fresh air and agree to sit down and talk a little later? We can meet in my office in about an hour. Does that work for you, Mr. Lennox?”

  I can tell he’s about to say no. Finally something I can read. “I need to see to a few guests. Make sure things are squared away.” I remind him I’m still working. “It’s my job.”

  “For now.”

  I hesitate. Does he mean because of the promotion or that I am on thin ice? Another way I don’t enjoy being between a rock and a hard place. I’ve made it my mission in life so that I’m not. I’ve worked hard to get where I am.

  “Then if that is my job I should get back to it.” I give him a tight smile on purpose. I want him to know I’m displeased but still capable of doing what I’m supposed to. “For now.” I toss his words back at him as I take another step away. He smells too good. It’s not helping.