Oh Baby: A Holiday Novella (Wolf Pack Book 9) Read online

  Marcus had cut up a slice of pizza for her, which she was quickly devouring. When she went to grab another piece, he moved the plate out of reach. “Uh-uh. Swallow what’s in your mouth first.”

  The little girl poked her bottom lip out, drawing a hearty rumble of laughter from Michael, Manning and Quentin.

  “Baby girl don’t mess around with her food,” Manning joked.

  “Just like Junior.” Quentin grinned at his toddler son, who sat beside him in a high chair shoveling bites of pizza into his mouth. “I keep telling y’all these two are soul mates.”

  Junior flashed a toothy grin at everyone, setting off another round of laughter at the table.

  They were having lunch at a popular pizzeria close to Legoland, where the kids had spent several hours building racecars and castles, romping through miniature towns and getting on every ride they could—some more than once.

  When they arrived at the restaurant, the waitstaff had pushed three tables together and brought out four high chairs to accommodate their large party. The older children sat at one end chattering animatedly about the day’s adventures at Legoland. Matthew, as usual, was the loudest. A close second was eight-year-old Micah, Manning’s eldest son. When the two boys started bickering over something or other, their fathers had to intervene, telling them to knock it off.

  As the combatants glared sullenly at each other, Michael grinned at Manning. “Do those two remind you of anyone?”

  Manning laughed. “We weren’t that bad, were we?”

  Marcus snorted. “Are you kidding? Y’all were worse.”

  “Much worse,” Quentin agreed, laughing. “Y’all were always arguing and trying to one-up each other.”

  “I don’t know why,” Michael drawled. “I was older, smarter, handsomer and a much better athlete. There was no competition. Then or now.”

  Manning smirked and started to flip him the bird before he remembered there were young children around. “Let’s see if you can back up all that trash talking when I get you on the court next weekend.”

  Michael snort-laughed. “C’mon, son. You don’t want none of this.”

  “Ooh!” the boys hollered, relishing the prospect of a showdown between the two grownups.

  Marcus grinned, wagging his head at Michael and Manning. “Way to set an example for the young’uns.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Milan gulped down the rest of her apple juice, then set her sippy cup on the table and wriggled her fingers at the empty plate. “More pizza, Daddy.”

  “More pizza, what?” Marcus prompted.

  She looked back at him with those wide dark eyes that were just like Samara’s. “Pleeease?”

  Damn if Marcus didn’t melt. “Coming right up,” he acquiesced.

  This drew knowing laughter from Michael, Manning and Quentin. They all had daughters. And they were all, without exception, wrapped around their little girls’ fingers.

  As soon as she finished eating, six-year-old Malia climbed into Manning’s lap and laid her head contentedly on his shoulder. Four-year-old Savannah also found her way to Michael’s lap.

  When Quentin’s infant daughter began dozing off in her high chair, he plucked her out and cuddled her against his broad chest. Although Alexandra Reddick had inherited her father’s wavy hair, hazel eyes and golden complexion, her features were unmistakably her mother’s. She looked so much like Lexi that Quentin affectionately called her “Lil Lex.”

  As Milan happily wolfed down more pizza, Marcus smiled across the table at Michael Junior. His adorable nephew sat in a high chair playing with Lego bricks, the corners of his mouth smeared with pizza sauce.

  “MJ had a blast building that rocket at Legoland,” Marcus said to his brother. “Maybe he’s gonna be an engineer like you were before you became a hotshot chef.”

  Michael grinned, watching his son with quiet pride. “Maybe so.”

  Matthew and Malcolm got up and ran over to Marcus. “Hey, Dad, can we play video games with Micah and Max?”

  “Sure.” Marcus fished two crisp twenties out of his wallet and handed them to Matthew. “Get enough tokens for everyone. And make sure you stay where we can see you.”

  “We will. Thanks, Dad!” The four boys raced off toward the gaming area.

  Marcus grinned at the others. “I’m surprised none of our wives have called to check up on us. Not even Reese.”

  Michael chuckled. “Only because she’s been delivering babies all day.”

  Manning grinned. “Taylor’s teaching at a music symposium, so she hasn’t had time to call either.”

  Quentin grinned, rubbing his daughter’s back. “Lexi texted me after her morning class. She made a point of saying that a text doesn’t count as a phone call, so she’s off the hook.”

  The others laughed and shook their heads. Good ol’ Lexi.

  Just then their waitress reappeared, a twentyish blonde carrying a fresh pitcher of sweet tea. She refilled their glasses while slyly checking out their ring fingers, as if she were hoping their wedding bands had magically disappeared during her absence. They hadn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop her from flirting shamelessly with them, batting her lashes and leaning all the way over to show off her cleavage as she collected dirty dishes from the table.

  When she caught Malia eyeing her suspiciously, she tried to play it off. “Look at you! You’re such a pretty girl!”

  “So are you,” Malia chirped matter-of-factly. “But my mommy is prettier.”

  Caught off guard, the waitress blinked rapidly and turned bright red, then flashed an awkward smile at the group before hastily departing.

  As Malia calmly returned her head to Manning’s shoulder, everyone exchanged disbelieving stares.

  “Kids,” Manning drawled, picking up his glass of sweet tea. “They say the darndest things.”

  Everyone just cracked up laughing.

  3

  It was after eight by the time Samara guided her car through the high iron gates that guarded her expansive estate.

  The photo shoot had run longer than scheduled, but everything had gone really well. So she’d left work feeling productive, accomplished and energized.

  Marcus would definitely benefit from her good mood, she mused wickedly as the long driveway curved up the rise to reveal her home.

  The imposing 8,000 square foot house was three elegant stories of brick and stone. It sprawled over ten lushly manicured acres with huge, flowering trees. With the house and grounds festooned in sparkling lights, Samara felt like she was traveling through a Christmas fairyland.

  The thought made her smile as she steered her silver Beemer along the sweeping curve of the driveway toward the large detached garage, which was connected to the main house by a porte-cochère.

  She pressed a button on her steering wheel to open the garage. It housed a Bentley Flying Spur, a Cadillac Escalade and a rare Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Mansory Renovatio—one of Marcus’s favorite toys.

  Samara parked next to the Bentley, turned off the ignition and grabbed her leather attaché case off the passenger seat. Before she could climb out of the car, Marcus was right there opening her door. Even after nine years of marriage, he still opened doors and pulled out chairs for her, a Southern gentleman through and through.

  “Hey, baby,” he murmured, helping her out of the car.

  “Hey, yourself,” Samara purred, looping her free arm around his neck as he pulled her close.

  Her husband was six foot four with midnight-dark bedroom eyes, chiseled cheekbones, a square jaw and the most sinfully sexy mouth. His skin was decadently dark and smoother than the finest Belgian chocolate. He’d showered and changed into a white cotton T-shirt and black drawstring lounge pants, a casual ensemble that emphasized his impossibly broad shoulders, muscular chest, lean hips and long legs.

  He lowered his head and gave Samara a deep, lingering kiss that sent her head spinning into orbit. She kissed him back, sighing with pleasure as his strong fingers curled aroun
d her nape to gently massage her neck.

  As they pulled apart, Marcus relieved Samara of her attaché case as she smiled up at him.

  “I see you survived another Daddy’s Day outing,” she teased. “How’d everything go?”

  “Great,” he said with a grin. “The kids had a blast. Wore themselves out.”

  “Wore you out too, I’m sure.” Samara grinned. “Where are they?”

  “I put Milan to bed. The boys are watching a movie, but they’re fading fast.”

  Samara chuckled. “I bet.”

  Arms wrapped around each other’s waist, husband and wife strolled through the porte-cochère to enter the house through a side door. Together they walked down the arched hallway that opened up into a round foyer that was three stories high with a gleaming marble floor and a Swarovski crystal chandelier dangling overhead.

  Arched columns graced the entrance to the richly appointed living room. It was decorated for the holidays with groups of ruby red poinsettias and pine boughs adorning tables and the fireplace mantel. A towering balsam fir centered in front of the windows had the whole house smelling like Christmas. The enormous tree boasted an impressive assortment of decorations ranging from glittery ornaments to handcrafted keepsakes made by the children, each with a story to tell.

  At the center of the foyer was a grand curved staircase. The upper landing split off into two directions that led to separate wings of the house.

  After setting down Samara’s attaché case, Marcus followed her up the staircase to the top floor. When they reached the doorway to the home theater, Samara couldn’t help smiling at the sight that greeted them.

  There were several rows of black leather recliner chairs facing a giant projection screen built into the wall. Matthew and Malcolm sat in the front row separated by one seat. They were watching X-Men: Days of Future Past. It was one of their favorite movies, but Samara could see that they were struggling to keep their eyes open while the family dog dozed on the floor between them.

  Two years ago, Marcus and Samara had surprised the twins with a puppy for Christmas. Samara had suggested adopting something cute and domestic like a Golden Retriever or a Cocker Spaniel. But Marcus had insisted on getting one of the breeds most closely related to—what else?—wolves. Shadow was a beautiful Siberian Husky with piercing blue eyes and thick white fur streaked with gray. Despite his wolf-like appearance, he was a super-friendly dog who loved the kids and enjoyed frolicking with them. They’d adopted him practically from birth, so he was very much part of the family, and they never had to worry about him turning vicious and attacking the children.

  Samara stepped into the darkened room. “Hey, babies,” she said above the sound blasting from the movie.

  The boys looked over at her, their identical faces lighting up. “Hey, Mom!”

  Shadow lifted his head from his paws and barked an enthusiastic greeting.

  “Hello to you too, Shadow.” Grinning, Samara walked across the carpeted floor and sat in the empty chair between her sons. They immediately snuggled against her, resting their heads on each of her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around them and kissed the top of their heads as Shadow pressed against her legs, his tail wagging vigorously.

  Laughing, she scratched the dog behind his ears and stroked his back, showing him some love before she returned her attention to her sons. “I heard you guys had fun today.”

  “We did!” Now wide awake, the twins began chattering excitedly, talking over each other until a loud whistle cut through the noisy babble. Samara and the boys turned to watch Marcus approach, muscular arms folded across his broad chest.

  “Your mother has had a long day,” he said. “Why don’t you boys tell her about your adventures tomorrow?”

  “Okay,” Matthew and Malcolm agreed with sheepish grins.

  As they settled against Samara once more, she smiled tenderly and hugged them close, savoring the warmth of their bodies.

  Marcus crouched in front of her and removed her pumps, smiling up at her. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

  “Positive. They brought us dinner after the shoot was over. I couldn’t eat another thing.”

  Marcus began massaging her left foot, pressing into the arch with his thumbs.

  Samara groaned with pleasure, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the cushioned headrest. “Your daddy spoils me sooo bad,” she told the boys.

  They giggled as Marcus went to work on her other foot, massaging the day’s tension out of her muscles with an expert touch that sent delicious sensations shooting up her leg and all through her body. By the time he finished, she didn’t know whether to roll over and go to sleep or jump his bones.

  Slowly opening her eyes, she stared into Marcus’s, bit her lip and smiled.

  He smiled back.

  Oh yeah. She would definitely be jumping his bones.

  “Well, boys,” she announced with a sigh, “I’m off to take a shower and get ready for bed.”

  Matthew and Malcolm looked disappointed. “Don’t you wanna watch the rest of the movie with us? It’s almost over.”

  “Next time.” Samara kissed their foreheads and tweaked their noses. “Goodnight, babies. Don’t stay up too late.”

  “Okay, Mom.” The boys glanced hopefully at Marcus. “You gonna finish watching the movie with us, Dad?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back.” Marcus picked up Samara’s pumps and handed them to her, then followed her out of the room. The moment they were alone, he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her close, kissing her softly as he murmured, “Still up for some grown-up time?”

  “You know it,” she purred against his mouth. “Been looking forward to it all day.”

  “Me, too.” His eyes gleamed. “I thought we could start off in the sauna.”

  “Mmm. That sounds heavenly.” Samara tipped her head back, smiling as Marcus nuzzled her exposed throat. “Why don’t you put the boys to bed, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “Sounds good.” He nipped her bottom lip. “Don’t take too long.”

  “I won’t.” She gave him a sexy smile and a wink before turning and sashaying off toward their bedroom.

  Located on a separate wing of the house, the luxurious master suite featured a high coffered ceiling with chandeliers, a massive bed covered in creamy brown silks and an elegant sitting area with an ornate marble fireplace. A set of triple French doors opened onto an Italianate balcony that overlooked lush gardens and the sprawling grounds of the estate.

  Samara undressed in her huge walk-in closet and then padded into the lavish master bathroom. Passing a large Jacuzzi, she stepped into the oversized marble shower and turned on the water. Six jets on either side provided the perfect rain shower experience, one that she and Marcus frequently enjoyed together.

  Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from the steamy shower, grabbed a plush white Turkish towel and wrapped it around her wet body. Her hair was pinned up, damp tendrils clinging to her face and neck. She wiped the foggy mirror with her hand, then smiled at her reflection as she spritzed herself lightly with the honeysuckle body mist that Marcus loved.

  Humming softly, she left the bathroom and made her way down to a basement as large as the main floor. It was sectioned off into a state-of-the-art gym with Nautilus machines, a heated indoor pool, a spare guest room and a well-appointed man cave that had hosted many raucous Super Bowl parties.

  The sauna area was located just off the pool. There was a small changing room and a wooden cabinet containing different types of oils and lotions and incense. Neatly folded white towels were stacked on heated racks outside the redwood sauna, which boasted an ultramodern design with a glass front.

  Samara opened the door and stepped inside. Hot steam filled her lungs, engulfing her with warmth.

  Through the steam, she could see Marcus sitting on a lower bench on one side of the sauna. He had a white towel slung low around his waist and his eyes were closed as he leaned back against the wall. Sweat
glistened on the sculpted muscles of his chest and washboard abs.

  He looked relaxed and sexy, so sexy that Samara’s pulse quickened and her pussy clenched with arousal.

  She closed the door behind her and sauntered across the spacious sauna. The slatted wooden floor was heated beneath her feet, and soft recessed lights cast an ambient glow over the darkened space.

  As she came to a stop in front of Marcus, he opened his eyes slowly and gave her a heavy-lidded smile. “What took you so long?”

  “Haven’t you heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  Her lips curled into a suggestive smile. “Good things come to those who wait.”

  As Marcus watched, she seductively dropped her towel.

  “Oh my damn.” He licked his lips, his dark eyes devouring her naked body from head to toe. So scorching was his gaze that she quivered in response, her nipples stinging as they hardened.

  “Come here.” His voice was a low, sexy rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

  Smiling coyly, she stepped forward and straddled him on the bench, her thighs on either side of his, her breasts brushing his lips. He drew a beaded nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, making her moan and writhe against his bulging erection.

  When his hooded eyes rose to hers, she lowered her head and sealed her lips over his. His husky groan of pleasure thrilled and aroused her.

  She held his face in her palms as she sucked his lips and swirled her tongue around his, savoring the taste of him. His big hands skimmed up her body, fingers tangling in her hair.

  They kissed each other breathless, the moist heat of their mouths mingling in the sultry air between them.

  Breaking the kiss, Marcus swung Samara around to lay her down on her back.

  Her pulse raced as she stared up at him, watching as he moved down to the end of the bench to kneel between her legs. She shivered as his strong hands gripped her thighs, spreading them apart to reveal the glistening lips of her sex.

  He growled something low and guttural, then put his head between her legs and licked her slit from top to bottom.