Sugar Lips

Chapter Two

I retrieved the basic cleaning products, stashed them in a bucket along with fresh linen, and made my way towards the Dahlia suite. I'd phoned down to the reception and asked for them to make sure someone refilled the mini-bar.

I entered the suite and turned my Ava Max playlist up to max, then put the cleaning products down next to the bathroom door. There was nothing wrong with the room. Not a speck of dust or anything lying about. Killing time, I walked through the elegant rooms, moving fresh vases of white Roses to the main sitting room, allowing the fragrant blend of violets to fill the space. In the master suite, I tilted the blinds to allow the remnants of the sunset to filter through. The sheets looked a little creased, as if someone had sat down. So, I ran my hand over them and left the fresh linen in the wardrobe for housekeeping to find the next day.

I stood admiring the suite. It was breathtaking. All marble flooring with a spectacular view of Manhattan. I smiled in contentment, remembering how I swapped Rocky Mountain Montana for the big city. The hustle and bustle of city life consumed me after watching too many episodes of Sex in The City. My mom had sat me down to have a talk the moment I told her I planned to move away to New York when I turned eighteen. She told me I'd hate the city life. I wouldn't admit it to her at the fear of her thinking I'd abandoned her, but I truly didn't regret a single moment of it. I enjoyed exploring the city, going for lunch and cocktails with Callie, and living in my small studio apartment. It was all I could afford when I first arrived in New York. I'd politely declined my parents' offer to put money to my rent every month so I could get a sought-after area, but I refused, mostly to prove to them I could be a responsible grown-up. The half-hour walk to work didn't faze me.

I gave the room one last glance over. Time was creeping on. I had a night out to get ready for. I turned to grab the cleaning products only to bang straight into hard muscle, crash landing on my ass. Snatching my Air Pods out of my ears, I stared up at the stranger. Both of us scowled at each other in mutual consternation.

"Who the fuck are you?" the stranger demanded.

"Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you?" I tossed back. Rude much!

He was dripping wet. And naked, like naked, naked. I looked up at the powerful, well-muscled body. Then down. Bad idea. His dick was glorious.

Fuck!

I leaped to my feet, holding my hand out and trying my best to block all that was on show. "Wow! that's a whole lot of nakedness."

"Looks that way." A smile teased that smart mouth of his.

Cocky bastard. "I was asked to... erm—" I cleared my throat and blinked away the confusion his presence had caused. "I'm the housekeeper." I finally managed.

Well, there's a sight I'm not going to forget.

"You don't look like a housekeeper." He noted, his voice drifting away.

"No? Then what do I look like?"

"Like someone that doesn't know that her tight dress is see-through. Your pink thong matches your hair in case you were wondering."

I pulled at the hem of my midi dress in utter shock. "What? It's not see-through." Panicked, I rushed to the large ornate silver floor mirror that was resting against the wall, turning in different directions to see for myself.

"Shit!" my pink thong was visible through my bodycon dress. "That's the last time I buy a four-dollar dress from Shein!"

"Wait, that dress cost you four dollars? And you wonder why it's see-through?"