We chatted a bit more—shop talk, the usual bullshit about suppliers and market trends—but my mind wandered.
Pictured her in the kitchen, apron over those lush body or maybe something tighter for the holiday. Bending to check the oven, ass presented like a gift. I'd corner her there, hand slipping under the fabric, fingers finding her wet and ready again.
As the call wound down, Tom paused, his voice turning personal. "Hey, before I let you go... you doing okay, Ezra? It's Christmas, man. You and me, both single these days. Ever think about settling down again? Finding a new wife, or at least someone to warm your bed this holiday? Life's too short to be alone in that big place of yours."
His words hit like a wrench to the chest. Warm my bed. If he only knew—I'd spent the afternoon replay
