Page 44 of Mr. Hotshot CEO

“Suit yourself.” She brings the spoon to her own lips.

I don’t want to eat cookie dough, but that doesn’t mean I want her to eat it instead.

I yank the spoon away from Courtney as images of her getting a foodborne illness flash through my mind. Before she can stop me, I’ve licked every last bit of dough off the wooden spoon.

“Good, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Yes,” I admit, “it is.”

“You got the spoon, so I’ll take the bowl.” She swipes her finger through dough clinging to the edge of the ceramic bowl, but I wrap my hand around her wrist before she can bring it to her mouth.

I do it because I’m afraid of her getting ill. And because the cookie dough really is good and I want more.

But mostly, I do it because I want her finger in my mouth.

I swirl my tongue over her finger then suck on it.

She gasps.

“Not fair,” she says. It comes out as a whisper. “That was my cookie dough.”

“Fine. You can have some, too, since you’re so insistent.”

I swipe up the last of the dough, including a chocolate chip, on my finger and hold it to her lips. She sucks on my finger, which makes me think all sorts of delicious thoughts. When I pull back my hand, I’m breathing hard.

I can’t stop myself from dipping my head, but I pause when my lips are a finger’s breadth from hers. She nods, and I take her mouth in mine.

The kiss tastes like chocolate chip cookies and butter andher...and that’s the best part, finally being able to taste her after a weekend in her presence.

“Julian,” she groans.

She’s said my name many times before, but never like this.

I fit my hands under her ass and pick her up. She clings to me as I walk to the couch and sit down, kissing her the whole time. I slide my lips to the underside of her jaw and plant open-mouthed kisses there. Her lips are parted in pleasure and her eyes are shut. Oh, God.

Her hands slip under my shirt and up my chest; she murmurs in appreciation.

“Yes,” I whisper, cupping her cheeks then sliding my fingers into her hair, which I’ve been longing to touch for ages. I tip her mouth to mine again and slant my lips over hers, taking and giving all that I can, trying to get closer and closer, overjoyed that I finally have this woman in my arms. She’s a passionate kisser, as I knew she would be.

Ding! Ding!

What the fuck is that? Whatever it is, it won’t make me stop kissing Courtney.

I press her against me, her breasts squeezed between us, and oh, those should definitely be bare right now.

I’m bunching up the bottom of her shirt when I hear that blasted sound again.

Ding! Ding!

“It’s the oven timer.” She sounds a bit dazed. “We need to take the cookies out.”

Dammit, why did we decide to make cookies?

But I shouldn’t complain because the cookie dough led to our kiss.

Courtney jumps up. She takes the pans out of the oven and lets the cookies cool for a couple minutes before using a spatula to put them on the wire rack.

“We’ll let them cool a little longer,” she says, wiping her hands. “Then we can eat them. The danger of baking is that you’re tempted to eat too many at once, but—”