The Anchor

by B. N. Toler

  She finally manages to look up at me and wipes the tears from under her eyes. “I really hate you, you know that?” she giggles.

  “If hating me makes you laugh like that, I’ll make you hate me every day for the rest of my life.”

  Her giggling ebbs and our eyes are locked when John yells, “I’m posting this shit on Facebook.”

  Well, now I care.

  “No you won’t, fucker!” I yell as I take off after him.

  Dinner was a success. I mean, nobody died so that means success in my book. I did burn the rice and everyone had a good laugh at my expense over it.

  Assholes.

  But otherwise, with a little of Parker’s help—okay, a lot of Parker’s help—the rest of the meal turned out great. Our friends have all left, not a one offering to stay and help with the dishes.

  Again. Assholes.

  Parker and I stand in the kitchen. He washes the dishes while I dry and put them away. When we’re done, I realize how tired I am as my lower back begins to ache. “Come on,” Parker says, as he juts his chin toward the living room. “Someone needs a massage.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I insist even though I’m already obeying him and walking toward the living room. A back rub sounds amazing and I won’t miss a chance to have his hands on my body in any capacity.

  “Consider me a friendly neighbor doing you a favor,” he jests. “Think you can lie facedown on the couch with your belly?”

  “Maybe with a pillow under my hips.”

  Parker grabs a throw pillow and lays it in the center of the sofa. I don’t hesitate to climb on the couch and position myself. He seats himself on the edge of the couch and begins massaging my shoulders, causing me to groan.

  “Damn, that feels good,” I murmur.

  His deft fingers move lower, kneading and massaging the tight knots in my back.

  “Fuck, it feels so good,” I moan. His hands freeze, causing me to turn my head.

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “I need you to stop making noises and saying shit like that, okay?” he replies, his voice deep and husky.

  I can’t help smiling and turning my face to the sofa cushion as he starts massaging again. I have to mess with him. “Oh, Parker,” I whimper. “Please don’t stop.”

  In a flash, he stands and heads toward the kitchen. “Wait!” I shout. “Don’t go,” I beg. “I promise, I’ll stop.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he says, as he comes back to the living room, slipping his suit jacket on, his erection straining against his nice slacks. Heat blossoms in my belly and seeps lower. Licking my lips, I push myself off the couch, stifling the grunt I want to let out from the effort, and straighten my shirt when I get on my feet. I want him. I want him so badly I think I’d turn myself inside out to have him.

  I’ve felt so uncertain about us, about what will happen with us, but my heart swells knowing he still wants me. Knowing I have this effect on him makes me brave. “Don’t go.” The words have left my mouth before I know what I’m saying.

  His nostrils flare and he raises his chin. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Walking to him, I grab the lapels of his jacket. “Stay.”

  As I gaze up at him, he runs a hand over his face and it’s the first time I notice how tired he looks. “When’s the last time you slept, Parker?”

  “Honestly,” he murmurs somewhat humored. “The last time we slept together. I never sleep. But with you, I do.”

  Fucking A.

  How can words fill me up so much? How can they touch me so deeply? Taking his hand, I lead him back to my room, but he stops short of the door.

  “Nikki, I—”

  “Need a good night’s sleep, Parker,” I interrupt. “Take your clothes off.”

  I don’t wait to see if he listens as I grab some pajamas from my top drawer and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I change my clothes and brush my teeth. When I come out, Parker is standing by the bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. He’s messing with his phone; my guess is he’s setting the alarm to wake him up in the morning.

  Maybe sleeping together isn’t such a good idea. How can I sleep near him and not touch him when he looks that damn good? I give a small smile and together we toss the throw pillows to the floor and pull the comforter back. When we climb in bed, I turn off the light. We’re both lying on our backs as we stare at the ceiling for a moment. This is weird. I’m used to him curling up behind me and crushing me to him, using me like a body pillow.

  “Parker,” I say, and he turns his head to me, the moonlight seeping through the window accentuating the perfect cut of his face. “Just hold me. I know it doesn’t mean we’re us again, but I think we both need it tonight.”

  He blinks a few times, his lips flat, and for a moment I think he won’t do it. But then he rolls to his side and indicates to me to do the same, and snakes one arm around my hips, and pulls me to him.

  Even if I wasn’t pregnant, I’d want him. But the ache between my legs right now is so intense I’m squeezing my thighs together and unable to stop myself, I grind against him.

  His erection presses against the back of my leg and he groans. “Nikki,” he says my name in a breathless whisper. His fingers dance along the exposed stretch of skin between my shirt and shorts, drifting against the elastic band.

  I’m biting my lips to contain the whimpers as his mouth brushes the flesh of my neck. “Parker . . . please touch me. Please,” I beg. I hate how desperate I sound, but I am desperate. Gently, his fingers push beneath the band of my shorts and panties and slip down. The moment he touches my clit I moan.

  “Fuck, baby. You’re so goddamn wet.” His breathing picks up as he moves his fingers gently in a circular motion. I pull my shorts midway down my thighs with my free hand to give him better access, then place my hand over his, encouraging him. Together, our hands slip down further until two of his fingers slide inside of me.

  “Ah, baby,” I whimper in pleasure.

  Parker Hayes loses it.

  He curls and thrusts his fingers faster, the heel of his palm rubbing against my clit as he does. “You like that, Nicole?” he growls. “So fucking tight and wet. You make me fucking crazy.”

  I leave his hand and reach behind me, threading my fingers in his hair, tugging hard, letting him know not to hold back. His teeth graze my neck gently before biting me, hard, and I unravel. My orgasm releases and a stream of words come pouring out and I repeat his name over and over, thanking him. He doesn’t pull his fingers out right away, but holds them there, almost as if he doesn’t want to move, while peppering my shoulder with little bites and kisses. After a moment, he pulls his hand away and attempts to help me pull my shorts up.

  Reaching behind me, I find his erection and rub the length of it. He hisses as he grabs my wrist and pulls my hand away.

  “Let me,” I insist, fighting to get back.

  “Not tonight,” he says, in a pained grumble. “Just let me hold you.” And I give him what he’s requested.

  Our bodies joined together, feeling his arm holding me tightly, his mouth on my neck and breath on my skin sends a surge of comfort through me. He is my home. He is where I belong. His breathing slows and I can tell by the rise and fall of his chest that he’s about to fall asleep. I never apologized for what happened in New York. I was wrong not to believe him. And I was jealous and insecure. And truthfully, I was looking for him to slip up. In a sick way, I almost wanted him to. I thought it’d be easier to prove I was right; that all men are shit. But now I know I was wrong and I feel if I don’t tell him right now, I’ll explode.

  “Parker?” I whisper.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he mumbles sleepily.

  I squeeze his hand where it rests on my belly. “I just want to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what happened in New York. I’m sorry for making things so difficult. I hope . . . one day we can . . . move on and maybe try again.”

  He says nothing.

  My heart squeezes wit
h dread.

  Then he snores.

  I roll my eyes.

  Of course I would pour my heart out all while he’s passed out. I suck in a deep breath, wiggle myself a little closer to him and close my eyes. We may not be where I want us to be relationship wise, but he’s here . . . right where he belongs.

  Damn, it felt good to sleep. I awake well before the alarm on my phone goes off, but those five hours were badly needed. I leave before Nikki wakes, slipping out of the house quietly. I drive back to John and Edie’s, shower, dress, and head into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before I head off to work. John’s seated at the table, eating cereal, while Edie pours herself a mug of Joe. When she sees me, she hands me hers and pulls another mug from the cabinet.

  “Thank you,” I say, my voice still husky from sleep.

  “Had a late night last night, huh?” John asks and Edie turns, sipping her drink as she watches me, waiting for my response.

  “No sex,” I hold up a hand in promise. And technically that’s true. I’m trying to be strong and hold off. I’m trying to give Nikki a foundation, prove to her I’m here no matter what; whether she gives me her body or not. But it’s really fucking hard. Especially when she wiggles her tight little ass against my dick and begs me to touch her. I like to think I’m a strong man in all capacities, but even I have my limits. Feeling her body writhe against mine as I slipped my fingers in and out of her was fucking maddening. The woman has me by the balls. She just does.

  “How are . . . things?” John asks.

  “We’re getting along.” I shrug and take a seat at the table. “She seems . . . different.” My brows furrow as I try to think of a way to explain it. “It’s like she’s suddenly happy about the baby.”

  John smirks. “I don’t think she was unhappy about the baby. I think it’s the circumstances she was unhappy about.”

  “I know it’s been hard, Parker. But look at the progress she’s made. She’s got this business venture going and she excited about it. She starting to laugh and act like a smart-ass again. I feel like our Nikki is finally coming back to us.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “Maybe.”

  “You know, Parker,” Edie adds. “We know,” she motions a hand around the room indicating the three of us, “how awesome she is.” And she smiles sadly. “The problem is she doesn’t know that. The beauty and glam, she doesn’t know it goes beyond that. She doesn’t think she deserves you even though she wants you. You’re giving her a chance to prove herself. When things work out between you two, and they will,” she confirms, “she’ll know she deserves you.”

  Running a hand through my hair, I stand and take one last sip from my coffee before walking to the counter and putting the mug in the sink. “I’ll do what I need to. I just . . . miss her. Ya know, being with her like you two are when you’re together.”

  “You mean you miss sex?” John takes a stab.

  “Yeah, asshole.” I shake my head. “I miss that, too.”

  John stands and strides toward me, his arms extended. “Come here and let me cuddle you,” he says, the bastard cooing in mockery. Grabbing Edie who’s standing beside me, I push her in front of me to block him. Fucker.

  His humor falls as his expression changes and his eyes kind of glaze over as he slowly wraps his arms around Edie. “Hey, baby,” he purrs as he nuzzles her neck.

  “Jesus,” I groan, rounding the counter on the opposite side of them. “I gotta go.”

  Edie shrieks as John grabs her by the ass and lifts her onto the counter. “Suit!” she squeals.

  “Later, Parker. I’ve gotta eat breakfast,” John yells as I haul ass out of the kitchen.

  “You are so bad,” Edie scolds him.

  I’ve just opened the front door and the last thing I hear is John saying, “Just want a taste before I go.”

  My fucking ears will never stop hearing that shit.

  Motherfucker.

  I’ve had a few cases assigned to me; mostly traffic tickets and small claims cases. My coworkers have grown on me, most of them, anyway, but I have to admit I’m finally starting to feel at home here. I’m reading over some paperwork when Leanne saunters in my office. She sure is eager to do things for me. I try not to make eye contact with her. Looking her way seems to encourage her methods of grabbing my attention. Somehow she always drops something on the way out of my office and has to bend down, ass in the air, to get it. Or she’ll lean over my desk, her cleavage in perfect view of my line of sight.

  “Coffee, Parker?” she asks.

  “No, thank you,” I mumble, pretending to be enraptured with my work.

  “How have you settled in with the big move and all?”

  I know she’s trying to be nice and make conversation, but damn, I just want her to go away. “Good. Had dinner with friends last night.”

  “Oh, that’s fun. My evening kind of sucked,” she volunteers.

  Fuck. I don’t want to ask, but I have to. “I’m sorry to hear that. Everything all right?”

  She lets out an exaggerated sigh and says, “My boyfriend and I broke up.” My gaze moves up when I see her round my desk and sit on the edge of it, crossing her long, lean legs. “But I think it was for the best,” she continues. “It’s complicated.”

  “Well, I hope it all works out in the end.” I’m not sure what I just said, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Though I’m staring at the file in my hand, I’m watching her through my peripheral vision, waiting for her to leave. But when I see her motion over my desk, I can’t help but look up.

  Her brows are high in surprise. “You have a child on the way?” She’s holding the framed photo that Nikki gave me of the ultrasound.

  Smiling and attempting to be polite, I stand and take the photo from her, placing it on my desk where it was. She slides off my desk and stands as well, her body inches from mine. Taking a step back, I answer, “I do. He or she is due in April. We actually find out what we’re having this week.” I can’t help but grin at the thought.

  “Wow. You’ve never mentioned being married or being . . . with anyone. I had no idea.”

  “Well . . . it’s complicated,” I answer honestly. “We have a few things we’re trying to work out.”

  She places a hand on my arm and I almost jerk it away out of reflex. “I understand complicated.”

  Fuck. She thinks I’m sending her a message. Why the hell was I honest with her? Before I can figure out a way to tell her it’s not the same as her situation, she says, “Well congratulations, Parker. I bet you’ll be an excellent father.”

  “Thanks,” I murmur as I take my seat again. My fellow attorney and office bud, Mike Anderson, walks into my office and I couldn’t be more grateful for his timing. I like that when he enters a room Leanne leaves.

  “Parker, can I talk to you a minute?” he asks, standing in the doorway awaiting my answer.

  “Of course,” I reply a little too eagerly. Leanne misses her cue to leave and stays planted where she’s standing. She’s getting bold. All I can think is: Please go away. “Leanne. Would you mind getting me coffee?”

  “Oh,” she says. “Sure thing. Would you like anything, Mike?”

  “No thanks. I’m good.” There’s an awkward beat of silence and it occurs to me that Leanne is looking at Mike oddly, more than usual, but he isn’t looking at her. He’s looking at anyone but her. With that, she takes off and I exhale loudly. Why does this woman make me so unbelievably uncomfortable? A beautiful woman trying to flirt with me shouldn’t, but her—the way she eyes me—it feels like trouble, but so far nothing too inappropriate has happened for me to say anything. Though I wish she would keep her ass off of my desk.

  As she slides by Mike, he moves out of the way, almost obviously making sure not to come in contact with her as she exits. I shoot him a curious glance. When he sees me, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he shuts my office door. “Hey, man,” he greets.

  Mike is in his thirties, married, with kids. He’s a succes
sful attorney and is a decent looking guy, which is why I’m wondering why he looks so foreboding right now. He slips his hands in the pockets of his pants and steps toward my desk. “Everything okay, Mike?” I query.

  He sucks in a deep ragged breath and groans. “You’re a nice guy, Parker.”

  I can’t help smirking. What an odd thing for him to say. “Uh, thanks?” I say, trying to hide the humor in my voice. Should I tell him now or later that I don’t swing that way?

  “I’ve battled with whether or not to say anything to you. The truth is…I’m not supposed to. I could get in a lot of fucking trouble, so I need your word you won’t tell anyone.”

  My brows rise. Well that got dark pretty quickly. I have no idea what he’s talking about but his tone tells me whatever it is, it’s serious. “Yeah, Mike. You have my word.”

  “I mean it, Parker. You can’t say shit to anyone.”

  “Okay,” I promise.

  Mike runs a hand down his face. “I’m only trying to help you, man.”

  Now he has my interest. Standing, I round the desk and sit on the end, crossing my arms. “Okay.”

  “Watch out for Leanne. She used to be my assistant.”

  I hadn’t heard this and I’m somewhat surprised. “Did something happen?”

  “She started as my assistant when she was new to the firm. I’m married with kids, she knew this. But she flirted, and I won’t deny I enjoyed it somewhat, I mean, Christ, look at her.” He sighs. “But I never did anything inappropriate. Even if I was a shit that would cheat on his wife, I wouldn’t shit where I eat.”

  “So why isn’t she your assistant anymore?”

  “This is the part you cannot tell. I was working late one night and she came back to the office claiming she forgot something in her desk. She shut my office door and started unbuttoning her shirt. I told her to stop and we had a fight. The next day she went to human resources and filed a complaint against me for sexual harassment.”