“I love you too, Belinda. More than I ever thought possible. But if I come to this dinner, I refuse to hide what we mean to each other. How our relationship has developed.”
Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. A wave of nerves hits my belly. I have no doubt my family will be happy for us. My brother is the biggest unknown. Luke is like a brother to him. Would Brendan’s warning from a year ago still hold true when he saw how happy we were together?
“Okay, yes. I want to tell them too. It’s just…”
“Brendan. But that’s not for you to worry about. I’ll talk to him. If he’s going to be mad at anyone it’s going to be me.”
God, I hope it didn’t come to that. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. Who knows, maybe by the time we arrive he’ll be several glasses of spiked eggnog in and be totally mellow.”
Grabbing the plates from the table, Luke kisses my cheek before walking to the sink. “Before we get baking,” he says, leaning seductively against the oven. “You look absolutely filthy. I think a shower is in order.”
I make a run for the bedroom, squealing when he catches me and lifts me over his shoulder. A hard slap to my ass has me shouting again as tingles of pleasure shoot through me.
“Let’s get baking!” Luke cries out into my small apartment.
Twisting a hair tie around my thick strands still damp from our shower, I walk into the kitchen. Luke is rubbing his hands together, smiling like a fool as I head toward the cabinets to pull down ingredients.
“Nice sweater.”
I grin big at him before opening the fridge. My sweater is pretty awesome. I hadn’t turned on the flashing lights yet that framed the phrase “The Holidays Bake Me Crazy,” but I was saving that surprise for later. My leggings were also a deep forest green with tiny Christmas trees. All I needed to add to the festive ensemble was a mistletoe apron.
Bending down to grab said apron, I give my kitchen a quick glance while I tie the strings. Was I missing anything? Luke is a distraction, watching me from the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankles. I really have to talk myself into baking and not taking him back to bed. He looks good enough to eat. Dare I say better than the cookies we’re about to make?
The grin that grows across his face shakes me out of my haze. I’d been staring at him too long and not checking to make sure I have everything I needed for the spritz cookies. And of course, I was missing two vital things.
Spinning, I head toward where I keep all my pans and where I’ll find my cookie press. I’m making double my usual batch, knowing Luke will eat most of them before I can store them in festive tins, so I bring out extra pans. Not able to balance everything, I drop the press into my apron pocket. He must see my struggle, because just as a pan is about to fall, Luke is there, taking the pans from me gracefully.
“Thanks.”
He places them down on the far side of the counter, knowing from past experience that we’ll need room for ingredient mixing. “Before we start,” Luke says, wrapping me up in his arms, “give me some sugar.”
What a dork. But I love it. Rising to my tiptoes, I give him a kiss, pressing deep to explore every inch of his mouth. “Is that a cookie gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” he asks against my lips. My chin falls to my chest as laughter overtakes me.
“Idiot,” I reply playfully, pushing away from him. Reaching into my pocket, I place the forgotten cookie press beside my mixing bowl. “You ready to do this?”
“You lead and I’ll follow, baby.”
“Then let’s get cracking—”
“Some eggs,” he finishes for me.
Twenty minutes later I don’t know if I want to break down in laughter or frustration. I knew going into this that Luke wouldn’t be a big help in making the cookies, but he was driving me crazy with the light touches he was giving me and the way he kept licking his goddamn fingers every time he got dough on them. It was a sanitary blessing that I gave him his own bowl but geez, the man was testing me.
“You know what? How about you start pressing the cookies out?”
“Sure,” he replies, not taking his eyes off my ass.
“Luke.” I try to make my voice stern, but it comes out more of a chuckle. The idiot just smiles, giving me a playful wink before he picks up the cookie gun. He’s seen me and Babcia load the sphere before, so I don’t have to give him directions as he begins to spoon in the dough.
“I’m thinking the tree design first,” I hear Luke say to himself as he slides the metal plate on the cookie gun’s head. I press my lips together, finding it incredibly cute. Luke is hunched over the kitchen table, a look of pure concentration on his face as he slowly presses out dough. When enough dough is on the pan, he pulls the gun away with a flourish, nodding at his masterpiece before moving on.
Two pans are full before he catches me watching him. “Like the view?”
“I love the view. You really know how to handle your equipment.” I pause, eyebrows pumping. “Kitchen equipment.”
The corner of his lip kicks up. “Need me to show you how it’s done, baby?” We both know I don’t need to be shown how to use the press, but I go with it. Sauntering up to him, I step into his arms and grab the gun. Bending over the table, I wiggle my ass against him, taking pleasure in the small groan he makes. His hands come to my hips, pressing me harder into him. His cock is hard. My breath catches. Forgetting about the cookie press in my hand, I drop it and spin around. Luke is right there, catching me and lifting me into his arms as our mouths crash together.
His mouth is hungry, desperate and claiming as he consumes me.
“Not near the cookies,” I pant against his lips.
Luke curses, hoisting me higher in his arms and walks across the room. I feel my ass hit the edge of something. I’m too focused on grinding against him to care.
“Oh!” I cry as he sets me down, spinning me so I’m draped over the back of the sofa. My leggings are pulled down, the cool apartment air hitting my pussy lips and sending tingles up my spine. Luke’s jeans hit the floor in a clatter. His tongue is on my pussy, eating me. I’m already wet, ready for him. A finger toys with my clit, the growing pleasure causing my hips to wiggle to find just the right—
Luke stands abruptly, pressing himself to my back. I can feel his cock at my opening. He thrusts hard, entering me swiftly.
“Hold on, baby.”
“Shit, Luke.” I’m already on the brink, lost to the feelings he’s building in me. My arms shake as I try to hold myself up, but the sensations are too much. Pressing my face into a cushion, I scream my release as I shatter. Luke follows quickly after me, the pump of his hips slowing but still sending tiny bolts of electricity through my core.
He pulls out of me and I slump deeper into the sofa. I hear his chuckle and the shifting of clothes before I’m picked up again. My legs wrap around him, hands diving into his hair as I take in the man I love.
“I love you.” I kiss his nose. “And I really like baking love with you.”
Luke throws his head back in laughter, walking us back to my room. “Looks like something is rising again. We better get baking.”