CHAPTER THREE
EZRA CALDWELL
“Like mama, like son, huh?” I stare down at the splat of orange goop Nash spit on my white button-down shirt.
The squash mixture isn’t as cold as the iced coffee Lauren accidentally dumped on me years ago, but I definitely have to change my top before our last session with the Q Magazine photographer.
“Sara Beth, would you mind watching Nash and Ryan while I change?”
My niece jerks her head away from the crew adding finishing touches to the set—or what used to be Hearthstone Lodge’s main lobby.
After yesterday's Day in the Life focus at our new home, today is an homage to the family legacy which brought Lauren and I together, complete with a giant Christmas tree and a blazing fireplace decked with garland and stockings.
“Sure… I think Lauren is still upstairs getting ready, too.” Sara Beth takes my seat in front of the twins to continue feeding them their lunch.
Technically, she’s here to provide extra baby monitoring while Lauren and I talk with the Q Magazine journalist, but a behind-the-scenes look into what goes into a major magazine spread captured her attention from day one.
And Lauren and I haven’t wanted to quell that curiosity by forcing her to do more with the kids.
Now, though, it’s necessary.
Glancing at my watch, I calculate how much time we have before the lunch break is over. “We’ve got about twenty more minutes before things pick up again. Lauren and I will be back by then.”
“No worries. I’ve got this,” Sara Beth says with a grin, airplaning a tiny spoon into Ryan’s open mouth.
Satisfied that my children are in good hands, I hurry to the bank of elevators and head to the executive suite.
Voices sound from the living area the moment I step inside. Lauren is curled on an overstuffed chair in front of a view of the mountains, a terrycloth robe wrapped around her generous curves.
“It reminded me of that Hallmark movie you liked so much. The one with the musician in Vienna with Calder Mayfield as the lead.”
I recognize my sister, Kennedy’s, voice bursting through the speakerphone.
My brother-in-law, Wyatt, surprised her with an anniversary trip to Vienna to explore their holiday market, and it’s clear by her excitement that she’s loving every second of their vacation.
“It’s too bad you’re not there while they’re filming a movie. How cool would it be to actually meet one of the stars?” Lauren titters. “I’d totally fawn over Thatcher North.”
I frown at the admiration in her tone. My wife should only have eyes for me, not some Hollywood actor. Leaning over the back of the chair, my palm tips her chin up for a swift kiss.
“Forget North,” I grumble, “Your husband requires all your attention.”
Kennedy laughs in the background as Lauren smirks. “Jealous much?”
“Always when it comes to you.”
Lauren shakes her head at my Neanderthal ways, something that only seemed to emerge once I met her. “You’re ridiculous. You know you’re the only man for me.”
“Besides, just because we’re married, that doesn’t mean we can’t look. We’re not dead,” Kennedy pipes up.
Wyatt’s answering growl is immediately cut short as the video call ends. Guess my brother-in-law agrees with me when it comes to our women and their famous crushes.
“You're ridiculous,” Lauren says with a half-grin before sighing, her features dimming a bit.
“What's wrong? I'm only joking about North.”
“It's not that.” She waves a hand and moves towards the dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
“What is it then?” I ask.
“Just thinking about everything I have to do before Christmas. I'm glad we only have a few hours left with the Q Magazine people. Then, I can focus.”
“Babe, you don't need to stress about Christmas.”
“Of course, I do,” she says. “It's our first holiday in the new house and your entire family will be here. Heidi and Griffen are traveling from Montana. Wyatt and Kennedy will be back from Europe. It'll be a full house, and I want everything to be perfect.”
“When has anything in our family ever been perfect? You know we can be a messy bunch.”
Lauren shrugs.
I know my wife well enough to know she doesn't believe me.
Snagging the back of her robe, I tug until she bumps into my chest, and I can wrap my arms around her waist.
“Why don't I offer a little stress relief?”
“Ezra…” she drawls, amusement tinging her voice. “We shouldn't.”
Fuck that.
“We definitely should. Think of it as interview prep. My girl needs to be relaxed and happy before meeting with the journalist.”
Her hand inches upward to cup my cheek as she tilts her head back. “Well, when you put it that way…”
I chuckle and drop a soft kiss to her lips.
My fingers slip below the edge of her robe to cup her breast, teasing one of her nipples with my thumb. The swollen bud is extra sensitive these days, since she's still breastfeeding, and it doesn't take much before Lauren whimpers, begging for more.
My other hand slides between her thighs to part the slick folds of her sex.
“Forget about family dinners and magazine interviews. Focus on me. On this. Focus on the feel of my fingers sliding into this hot pussy.” I mimic my words, groaning at the tight clasp of her soaking slit.
“Does that feel good, baby?”
“You know it does,” she pants.
My thumb circles her clit as I keep up a steady, thrusting rhythm, while playing with her nipples.
I lick and suck the sweet skin beneath my mouth. Adding little love bites along her jaw and neck.
The makeup artist downstairs will have a fun time covering up my marks, I'm sure.
Lauren's plush ass cradles my hard cock, but I ignore my own need.
This isn't about me.
It's about her.
I don't want Lauren stressing about Christmas. I'll hire whoever I need to help her, but I know she wants to do this herself, which I admire even as her stubbornness concerns me.
“Ezra!” Lauren gasps and arches in my arms. Her orgasm vibrates through her body before she slumps into me.
Carefully removing my fingers and licking them clean, I hike her into my arms and carry her to the bed.
“No, wait… I have to get dressed,” she mumbles.
“You can rest for a couple of minutes. We're the stars of the show. They can wait.”
“It's rude to be late.”
“I'll take full responsibility for our rudeness,” I joke.
“Love you,” she murmurs, her eyes fluttering shut.
“I love you, too, baby.”
More than words could ever fully express.