That was perfectly fine with me, but I stepped back and let her take the dough out of the fridge.
“I have cookie cutters,” I offered when she'd rolled out the dough. I'd thought about taking notes, but I could really only concentrate on Holly—the way she moved, the graceful way she smoothed out the dough. The intensity of her expression as she baked almost reminded me of me, of how I could be so absorbed in a programming problem.
I loved the way she bit her lower lip as she decided on the best way to cut out the cookies. After pressing the cookie cutters into the dough, she carefully stripped away the excess and slid the parchment paper onto the cookie sheet and put it in the oven. The puff of air as she closed the oven sent the skirt rustling up, exposing a hint of creamy inner thigh.
Get it together.
“Now we wait,” she said.
I knew how I wanted to spend the time. Holly was watching the cookies through the glass of the oven. I wrapped my arms around her and nuzzled her neck. She squeaked then laughed.
“I hope you're not trying to distract me,” she joked. “If I burn those cookies, I'll never be able to live it down.”
I wanted to pick her up and carry her to my bedroom; the cookies could just burn. But I also wanted to savor this, to unwrap her like an exquisitely decorated package.
She moaned slightly as my hands drifted up to cup the swell of her breasts. I kissed her neck, moving up to nip her earlobe. I spun her around to face me, fully intending to claim her mouth like I intended to claim her body.
But there was a slight hesitation in the way she chewed on her bottom lip. All I wanted to do was kiss that mouth myself. But I didn't want any reluctance on her part. I only wanted unbridled desire.
“I think the cookies are about done,” Holly said, turning away from me and breaking the tension. “So now that you love Christmas cookies,” she continued, taking the sheet out of the oven, “I need to help you bring Christmas to the rest of your life.”
“You already have my dog bedazzled in Christmas cheer,” I replied as Holly used a metal spatula to place the cookies on a cooling rack and took them outside.
“I’m going to decorate your house. Oh, I should have ordered you a Christmas tree!”
“I don't need a Christmas tree.”
“You do! Christmas trees show your employees that you aren't some sort of modern-day Ebenezer Scrooge, counting pennies and keeping the heat off.”
“Nothing wrong with the cold. It's good for your circulation.”
“You need to have a big holiday extravaganza for your employees,” she insisted.
“Like a black-tie Christmas party?” I asked, confused.
“Too formal. I'm thinking more like a casual holiday party.”
I was skeptical.
“It will be fun! Booze, a holiday party, and a self-deprecating CEO will make your employees all love you and the company. I'll decorate, your employees can take nice photos, and you can reap those sweet, sweet social media points.”
Ihadwanted to spend more time with Holly. Maybe this was the way to do it.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Plan my holiday party.”
“This is going to be the best Christmas you've ever had!” she promised, nudging me with her shoulder and heading out onto the large balcony. She picked up a cookie and inspected it.
“These are ready to frost. Heh, get it?”
Though I wanted to really give her some Owen Frost on her cookies, Holly was all business as she decorated, expertly twirling the knife to frost the cookies and sprinkling them with a glitter of sugar.
“Taste,” she ordered. Holding a small star up to my mouth, she slid the cookie inside. My tongue flicked against her fingertips, and she shivered.
“Delicious,” I said, locking eyes with her.
