Page 24 of His for Christmas
"Finding everything you need?" I ask, breaking the silence.
She startles slightly, her hand instinctively covering her throat where my mark resides—an unconscious protection of something intimate, something between us alone. The gesture pleases me more than it should.
"Dominic. I didn't hear you come in." She straightens, professional mask sliding into place though not quickly enoughto hide the flash of pleasure in her eyes at seeing me. "Yes, thank you. Henri has been very helpful with the menu planning. We're coordinating the gala decorations with the food presentation."
I move closer, circling the island to stand beside her. Close enough to smell her perfume, to feel the slight tension that enters her body at my proximity. "Always thorough. Another quality we share."
She nods, shuffling papers unnecessarily. "The gala is important. Everything needs to be perfect."
"Indeed it does." I reach past her for an apple from the fruit bowl, deliberately brushing my arm against hers. She doesn't move away, though her breath catches slightly. "Though I'm surprised to find you working so late. I thought you might have gone home after this morning."
"There's too much to do," she replies, still not meeting my eyes. "The installation schedule is tight."
"And yet here you are, discussing canapés rather than supervising the library decorations." I take a bite of the apple, watching her face. "Could it be you're avoiding something? Or someone?"
Now she looks at me, wariness evident in her expression. "I'm not avoiding anything. The kitchen coordination was on today's schedule."
"At six in the evening? When the chef is gone for the day?" I set the apple aside, moving a step closer. "Try again, Holly."
A flush spreads across her cheeks. "I wanted some quiet to review the plans."
"The truth this time," I press, another step bringing me directly beside her, our shoulders almost touching.
Her hands flatten against the countertop, fingers splaying as if seeking stability. "I didn't want to run into you with your dinner guest," she admits finally, the words coming out in a rush.
Satisfaction curls through me at her confession. "My dinner guest?"
"Celia Williams. Your meeting." She tries for nonchalance and fails spectacularly. "The former model who's brilliant and ruthless."
I let my hand cover hers on the countertop, my thumb stroking across her knuckles. "There is no meeting with Celia tonight. There never was."
Her head snaps up, confusion clear in her eyes. "But you said?—"
"I wanted to see your reaction," I admit, unapologetic. "To determine if last night was simply physical release for you, or something more."
Indignation flashes across her face. "You were testing me? Playing games to make me jealous?"
"Yes." I don't bother denying it. "And your reaction told me exactly what I wanted to know."
She tries to pull her hand away, but I tighten my grip, not allowing the retreat. "That's manipulative," she says, anger lending her courage.
"Effective," I counter, using her attempt to withdraw as leverage to turn her to face me fully. "And necessary. I don't invest in uncertain prospects, Holly. In business or in pleasure."
"Is that what I am? An investment prospect?" Her eyes flash with genuine hurt beneath the anger.
I step closer, backing her against the counter, my body caging hers without quite touching. "You are becoming essential," I tell her, my voice dropping lower. "And that requires certainty on both sides."
Her chest rises and falls rapidly, anger warring with the desire I can see building in her eyes. "You could have just asked how I felt."
"Words lie. Reactions don't." I bring my free hand up to her face, cupping her cheek, feeling the heat of her blush against my palm. "And your reaction to the idea of me dining with another woman was...illuminating."
"I'm sure you've had plenty of dinner companions," she says, a last attempt at deflection.
"Many," I agree, my thumb tracing her lower lip. "None that occupied my thoughts the way you do. None that made me end meetings early just for the possibility of seeing them."
Something shifts in her expression—wariness giving way to wonder. "Dominic..."
I silence her with my mouth, claiming her lips with a hunger I've barely contained all day. She responds instantly, her body arching into mine as if we've been lovers for years rather than a single night. My hands find her waist, lifting her easily onto the counter, stepping between her thighs as they part for me. The position aligns our bodies perfectly, allowing her to feel exactly how much I want her.
