The Anchor (37 page)

“Stop that,” he orders as he softly pulls my arms away.

“I just don’t feel very sexy,” I admit as I glance back at the door where the evil stick figure exited. “I’m wearing jeans with a belly band for God’s sake.”

He reaches out for my chin and uses a finger to turn my face toward him. His gaze flares and my cheeks flush as he presses both hands firmly to the sides of my bump and smiles. “I can’t wait to see you get bigger. I can’t explain why it turns me on knowing my child is growing inside of you, but damn . . . it does. You have no idea how you affect me, Nikki Reese.”

I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, my heart swelling in adoration for this man that makes me feel so fucking special. “I have some good news.”

“Yeah?” he asks as he reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, my heavy breasts falling free. His hand finds one and squeezes as he leans down, sucking the hard nipple in his mouth. “I fucking love these breasts,” he mumbles around his mouthful. My back arches and my head falls back as the sensation lights a fire in my core.

“The baby,” I manage. “The test results came back.” His head jerks up and his dark eyes meet mine, fear looming in them as he straightens up.

“What’d they say?”

“He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.” I grin as tears fill my eyes. Parker steps back and pinches the bridge of his nose, clenching his eyes closed. I knew he was scared, just like me, but seeing his reaction, seeing how overcome he is with the knowledge the baby is okay, hits me hard. He’s been strong for me; putting on a show to keep me grounded knowing one of us had to stay steady. If he hadn’t been here, pushing me to keep busy, distracting me, I would’ve spent the week in bed, sick with dread and worry. But he kept me grounded. He falls to his knees, his face level with my belly, and places his hands on both sides of it again, kissing it softly.

“Thank you,” he whispers, but I’m not sure who he’s thanking. Me, the baby, or God.

“He’s okay, Parker,” I cry. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with relief.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life. Our child is on the way . . . and he’s healthy. And you half naked on my desk. Could life get any more perfect?”

I grin as I wipe under my eyes. “I don’t think so,” I chuckle.

His expression goes slack. “What?” I ask nervously.

Standing up, he cups my face in his hands. “Marry me.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“Marry me. I know it’s only been a few months, but the way I feel about you . . . I love you. I do. You. You’re my dream, Nikki.”

My heart beats wildly. We haven’t been together that long. And I never in a million years imagined I’d be proposed to, let alone while half naked and pregnant on my boyfriend’s desk. But the thought of saying no feels wrong because I so badly want to say yes. I love this man.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Yes?” he questions.

“Yes,” I softly confirm.

He shakes his head as he grips my face firmer and leans closer. “Fucking beautiful,” he rasps.

Then he attacks. He lifts me up and turns me so I’m facing his desk. Since I’m wearing maternity jeans, they’re easy to tug down, and he finishes by tearing my panties off. I hear the clank of his belt buckle hit the ground, followed by the unzipping of his pants, and then he’s inside of me. My forehead presses to the desk as I moan in pleasure, his hard cock filling me full. His weight resting on my back, hands roving over my bottom as he pushes inside me. I’m so close to coming when he stops and pulls out. I look back at him and see him slipping his shoes off, and then the remainder of his pants and boxer briefs before he walks over to the leather couch against the wall. When he sits, he unbuttons his shirt.

“Take off your pants, Nicole,” he commands.

My mouth goes dry as I stare at him, his dress shirt open revealing his hard and chiseled chest and stomach, his dick hard and at full stand, looking sexy as fuck, waiting for me on the couch. I shimmy my pants and shoes off and walk toward him.

“Stop,” he orders me. “Let me look at you.”

My body is nothing like the first time we were together, and even then I was self-conscious when he watched me. So now it’s worse, but I know that’s in my head. Parker likes looking at me, so I let him.

“Touch your breasts,” he demands as his hand fists his cock and he starts stroking himself slowly. My lips part as I watch him, my hands finding my breasts and squeezing my sensitive nipples. Fuck, he looks so hot touching himself. Wetness pools between my legs, almost dripping from me; I’m so turned on.

“Please, Parker,” I beg, “I’m so wet.”

He growls and strokes a little faster. “Be patient, beautiful. Touch yourself down there.”

My hand flies south and I slip my fingers inside me, my breathing erratic as I work my fingers in and out. Biting my lip, I attempt to contain the whimpers I desperately want to let out. Agony and ecstasy control my movements and I pump my fingers harder, deeper. “That’s my girl,” he encourages. “You’re so fucking sexy.” He watches me, intensely, telling me to slow down and pinch my nipples as I please myself. I follow every order, wishing my touch could come close to what his does to me. I’m so wound up, I’ll probably come just from the way he stares at me, eye-fucking me from head to toe with his determined gaze. After a few minutes, he puts me out of my misery and says, “Stop, and come here.”

I move to him on trembling legs and he grabs my wrist, yanking my hand to his mouth and sucking my arousal from my fingers, his warm tongue rolling around each finger, making sure to get every bit.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he growls. His expression is serious, almost stoic when he looks at me. It’s hard to explain what I see. He looks angry, but in a good way. Like he wants me so badly or is so turned on that it pisses him off. It’s sexy as fuck. “Straddle me and put me inside you, Nicole.” My body trembles as I sit on him. My belly acts as a small buffer between us, but I don’t think about it for long. Parker thinks it’s hot. That’s all that matters. I slowly sheathe his cock inside of me, gasping when he thrust his hips up, fully seating himself inside of me.

“That’s my princess,” he murmurs as his hands stroke my back. I hated him calling me princess once. I thought he was making fun of me. I thought he was mocking me. But I don’t think that anymore. Now, I know he’s being sweet; loving. My damp hair falls loosely over my breasts, the cold, wet tendrils cooling my heated body. His mouth finds one of my nipples again as I move up and down once. Parker doesn’t rush me . . . we go slow. Achingly slow. And while it’s soft and beautiful, he squeezes my flesh, bites me everywhere; neck, arms, breasts. Bringing the right amount of pain. Somehow, he makes it rough and gentle all at once. Always perfect.

And when we’re both finished and exhausted, lying on the couch in each other’s arms, I feel safer and happier than I ever have in my entire life.

“Let’s get married on Thanksgiving Day,” Parker suggests, his voice muffled as his mouth dances over my skin.

“Sounds perfect,” I murmur sleepily.

I got married today. It was a simple ceremony; quaint. So unlike me. And it was perfect. The people we love most were there to watch us join hands.

We threw together a little reception at Earl’s and even though only a few were invited to the actual wedding, everyone and anyone were welcome at the reception. Surprisingly, a lot of people showed up, considering it’s Thanksgiving Day. Luckily, I got out of cooking Thanksgiving dinner since we were getting married. We hired a caterer, but Parker assured his mother we would be having it at our house next year. After I pinched the shit out of him, I tried to look on the bright side. At least I have a year to practice my cooking.

Joey gave me away, just as he’ll do for Edie when she and John marry. And I think he got a little emotional. When the justice of the peace asked, “Who gives this woman
to be married to this man?” he replied, “I do,” with a choked up voice, melting my heart.

Fucking Joey.

Parker and I shared our first dance; I let Parker pick the song. When the DJ started playing Country Girl by DF Dub, I nearly donkey punched him, but after a few seconds the DJ scratched the record obnoxiously and started playing Prosthetic Love by Typhoon. He was instantly forgiven.

As we danced, Parker sung the words to me, and when the song ended, he led me aside and motioned for Edie who quickly brought over a package wrapped in silver paper. She handed it to Parker and winked at me before scurrying away. That’s weird.

So here we are as Parker hands me the package, an uncertain smile on his face. “A gift for my bride,” he says.

I grin, wondering what on earth he could have gotten me. “I’m guessing Edie wrapped this,” I quip.

He laughs. “Actually, I did.”

“I’m quite impressed, Mr. Hayes.”

“I’m a man of many talents, Mrs. Hayes,” he banters. I stop tearing at the paper and meet his gaze. I love hearing him call me Mrs. Hayes.
I’m his wife.
Damn, my heart wants to burst with happiness.

“I love you, husband.”

He gently runs his knuckles over my right cheek. “Fucking beautiful,” he whispers. Leaning down, he kisses me softly, and then says, “Open it.”

I busy myself again and have the paper gone in seconds before ripping open the box. When I pull the tissue paper back, I freeze. Looking to him, he reads the question in my eyes.

Running a hand through his hair, a look of deep uncertainty on his face, he sighs. “Edie told me. It took quite a bit of digging, but the Wakefield paper had a copy under announcements.”

Tears form in my eyes as I move my stare from him and back to the gift. “Shit,” Parker murmurs. “I shouldn’t have gotten it. I’m sorry, Nik—”

“I love it,” I manage with a hoarse voice. It’s a framed photo of my parents on their wedding day, the one that was taken from me so many years ago.

His lips curl into a heartwarming smile. “You do?”

“I love it because you knew what it meant to me and you found it for me.” I’m sure to some it seems odd I’d want such a thing with being estranged from my father and having never really known my mother, but I’ll treasure this. One day, our son will want to know about them and I can show him this photo. He can at least see their faces. And even though my father declined his invitation to our wedding, his secretary stating he would be out of the country, I’m not angry. Parker’s uncle, Paul, and his grandparents declined their invite as well. Their absence didn’t ruin our day, though. His parents and sister are here and his uncle, Winston, sent his best. And everyone that’s important to me is here as well. That’s good enough for me.

His mouth quirks in a half smile. “I just want to make you happy.”

I fling my arms around his neck and kiss him passionately. When I pull away, I smile against his lips. “You make me very happy, Parker Hayes.”

“Excuse me.” The music stops and all eyes turn to the DJ booth where Joey stands with the mic. He’s wearing his best dress clothes and of course, his ball cap, with his hair sticking out. He looks adorable. Quickly, I wipe under my eyes, wondering what in the hell Joey is up to.

“Nikki and Parker, can you come here please?” Joey requests and I look to Parker, but he only shrugs, clearly having no idea what Joey is up to either. We make our way through the crowd until we reach him where he now stands by a small table someone must’ve brought up to the dance floor.

Joey turns to the crowd and says, “I gotta say, I’m so damn happy for these two. Nikki has been one of my best friends for a long time and I’m proud to say Parker is now one too.” Parker pats Joey on the back in thanks.

Joey turns back to me, his expression falling from humorous to dead serious. “Nikki.”

“Yes,” I snort, still trying to figure out what he’s up to.

“Place your left hand on the table and raise your right hand,” Joey instructs me. I look at him like he’s crazy, but he insists, “Go on and do it.” I do what he says and he asks, “Nikki, do you love Parker Hayes with all your heart and soul?”

I grin and glance at Parker. “Yeah,” I say, casually. “He’s all right.” Our guests all chuckle as Parker twists his mouth in amusement.