The Anchor (7 page)

We spent the majority of the day walking around the city, stopping here and there to eat or grab some beers. We spoke about our jobs and favorite pastimes, slowly getting to know each other. Before our last bar stop, we came upon two men sitting on the sidewalk. One was playing guitar, the other was playing a violin. Nikki stopped and stared at the man with the violin, watching the way he glided the bow across the strings. After a moment, the man stopped and held the instrument out to her; his smile bright.

“You play?” he asked in a thick foreign accent I couldn’t place.

Nikki darted her eyes to mine as she blushed before looking back to the guy. “I do.” She nodded.

“Play for us, pretty girl,” the man encouraged, stepping toward her, still holding out the violin.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

My eyes went wide. Holy shit! Beautiful and fucking talented. What are the odds?

Nikki took the instrument and placed it between her chin and shoulder. The man handed her the bow and she ran it across the strings a few times, testing it.

“I’ll follow your lead,” the man with the guitar said.

Nikki began to move, her focus intense as she played. After a few seconds, I knew exactly what she was playing. Charlie Daniels Band’ “Devil Went Down to Georgia.” I couldn’t help the grin that broke out across my face. People stopped and watched as she got lost in the music. The man with the guitar added what he could, but Nikki stole the show. I was amazed.

When the song ended, the crowd around us yelled and applauded. The two men she played with bowed to her and she smiled as she handed the violin back to the gentleman.

“Thanks for letting me join in.”

“Anytime, beautiful girl. Anytime.”

We continued walking and the smile plastered to my face wouldn’t cease as I kept glancing at her.

“What?” she finally asked, as if she was annoyed by the way I was looking at her.

“That was really fucking amazing. I’ve got wood.”

She laughed, tossing her head back, her mouth open, and my chest got this weird feeling. This girl was getting to me.

“Well, imagine me playing naked,” she said simply, and my erection felt like a third arm as I envisioned that image.

Fuck me.

Our last stop was at a bar about four blocks from my uncle’s apartment. She spoke animatedly and I tried to pay attention, but my gaze kept flicking over to a group of guys at the bar as they noticeably stared at her.

“Parker,” Nikki huffed. “Am I boring you?”

“No, not at all,” I said quickly.

“When a person is speaking with you it is common courtesy to look at them and listen.” She leaned back with her arms crossed, closing herself off to me. I didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry. There’s these dickwads over there that keep staring at you.”

She turned her head and followed my line of sight before returning to me. “So,” she said simply.

This time I leaned back. “They’re talking about how they want to fuck you. And speaking loudly, might I add. No class fuckers.”

Her mouth curved in this kind of half-smile, half-annoyed thing. “So.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” I asked.

She picked up her beer and took a long swig before answering. “Clearly it bothers you.”

“You like when men give you attention like that, don’t you?” It was all I could come up with. Why else would a woman not be bothered by a group of men staring at her the way they were?

“Parker,” she said as she leaned forward. “Men have stared at me like that most of my life. I barely notice it anymore.”

“Maybe so,” I grumbled. “But if you were my woman, I’d kick their asses. That shit is disrespectful.”

“Would you now?” One of her brows arched as she smiled brightly.

“Fuck yeah, I would,” I responded. I was pretty buzzed at this point and talking shit was coming way too easily.

Leaning forward, her blue eyes fixated on me as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. God, she was beautiful. “Ever heard the saying
takes one to know one?
”

“Yeah,” I answered before sipping my beer. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I think you’re projecting hypocrisy. You claim those men over there are thinking about fucking me, because that’s what
you’re
thinking about.”

Well, she got me on that one. “And if I were?” I countered.

“I’d be interested in hearing what you have in mind, Mr. Hayes.”

She was giving me an opening, and I was going to fucking take it. Rubbing my jaw, I leaned forward and slowly said, “I’d rather show you, Nicole. That is, if you think you can handle it.”

She leaned back, biting her lower lip again. Was she doing it to drive me fucking crazy? Did she have any idea how sexy she was? “I told you, I can handle anything you throw at me.”

She was challenging me. I just knew she must be the kind of woman that wanted to be dominated in the bedroom. Or maybe she thought I was bluffing; that my warning to her the night before was only shit-talking. I had news for her—I didn’t talk out of my ass. Never have, never would. Meeting her piercing blue gaze, I warned her once again. “I told you, I’m no gentleman in the bedroom, princess. I won’t fuck you like you’re a dainty beauty queen. I’m going to treat you like you’re my dirty little whore.”

Her eyes widened and I expected to see disgust or offense, but that’s not at all what lingered in her fiery stare. It was lust. She loved every promise I was making; she didn’t want to be treated like a princess. Taking the last few sips of her beer, she stood and rounded the table, inserting her body between my legs. Her pouty lips were a millimeter from mine as one soft hand brushed down my arm. “I’m ready when you are,” she whispered against my lips.

I had no idea how much our tab was, we’d only had two beers each, but I threw down a fifty and a twenty and grabbed her hand. My blood was pumping fast as we exited and I led her down the busy street toward my uncle’s apartment. Neither of us said a word as we walked briskly. She was humming with sexual energy; I could feel it, and it only excited me more, as if that were possible. A million images were running through my mind; Nikki on her knees sucking my cock, her lying on my bed, touching herself, her legs spread far apart as I licked and sucked her pussy. I couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman so badly in all my life.

We rushed through the lobby of the apartment building and were lucky enough to catch the elevator as two people were stepping off. I pulled her inside, hit the floor button, and as the doors began to close, I lifted her and pressed her against the wall. My chest heaved as my breathing labored, my desire coursing through me.

When her blue gaze met mine, I saw the want and need. She was right there with me; burning alive. But I also saw a tiny flicker of . . . fear, maybe? Or apprehension?

“Nicole,” I whispered. “Do you know how badly I want you?” Her mouth curved just a fraction as she breathed in deeply. Leaning in, I kissed her lightly. “Don’t be afraid of me,” I told her.

“I’m not,” she whispered back.

Kissing her once more, ever so softly, I backed away and stared into her eyes. “Good. Because that kiss was the last gentle thing that will happen between us tonight.” Her eyes widened a fraction just as the doors to the elevator slid open. “After you,” I motioned. She raised her head, and stiffened her back, and by God, she brazenly shook her ass as she walked past me toward the apartment. I was definitely going to spank that ass several times.

As we entered the apartment, Parker slid by me and went to the kitchen. I waited, my feet somehow weighted to the floor, preventing me from moving. I was a swirl of feelings. There was want there; dear God, did I want him. But I had talked a big game. When he told me he’d treat me like his dirty little whore, heat and desire racked my body. No one ever spoke to me like that. No one
ever
referred to me as a whore for sexual purposes. And what was with me liking it? What woman wants to be told she’ll be treated like a whore?

Parker rounded the corner with two shot glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “Are you ready, princess?”

My face heated with his words. I didn’t like being called a princess. It made me feel as if he thought I was too good for his kind of sex; like I was a prude. “Lead the way, Mr. Hayes.”

Flashing me a knee-weakening grin, he winked and headed to the master bedroom. As I followed him, I silently breathed a sigh of relief that Edie and John weren’t back yet. That might have made things a little awkward.

We entered his bedroom and he shut the door behind me. The large, king-sized bed was perfectly made; a beautiful deep blue comforter and soft throw pillows covering it. I figured he must’ve had a maid, there was no way he made a bed that well. My feet felt heavy, the sensation of lead weights strapped across my ankles keeping me at a standstill as I watched Parker set the liquor and glasses on the dresser. He said nothing as he poured some of the amber fluid into each glass. Turning to me, he approached and handed me one of the glasses.

“A little courage,” he rasped. He smiled as he took a large swig.

Was he implying
I
was scared? I refused to let him believe that. I was scared; a little. I was a virgin and from Parker’s warnings, he was most definitely
not
a virgin. I put on my brave face and smirked.

“Courage?” I questioned mockingly. “Why, are you scared, Parker?”

His mouth curved up as he watched me toss back my drink. It burned my throat and hit my stomach like a pile of rocks, but I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t let him see any of my weaknesses.

Taking my glass, he went back to the dresser, tossing back the remainder of his drink along the way. After he sat the glasses down, he moved to the closet, opened it, and kicked his shoes off before removing his socks and tossing them inside. Then he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed that as well. My heart began to beat faster. He was in nothing but jeans, his muscular and defined back in my line of sight. When he turned, I sucked in a ragged breath. He heard it and smiled. He was beautiful. Tall and lean with toned muscles everywhere. I could almost imagine what his hard body would feel like against mine and I had to swallow the nervous lump in my throat. I was about to have sex. This devastatingly beautiful, virile man was going to be my very-first lover.

Parker walked to the bed and sat on the edge, facing me. I hadn’t moved since we entered, and still couldn’t for some reason. Leaning forward, he put his elbows on his knees and trained his dark eyes on me.

“Undress,” he ordered simply.

My brows rose. I was a little surprised. When we agreed on doing this, I had imagined him wildly ripping my clothes off in a fit of passion. But in that moment, he seemed cool and relaxed, nowhere near as affected as I was.

“Nicole,” he said my name when I didn’t seem to respond. My gaze met his. “Undress.” His tone was deep, almost as if he was warning me to comply . . . or else.

Taking a deep breath, I bent to slip off my heels. My feet ached. When we left that morning, I had no idea Parker and I would go on a walkabout of New York. Heels weren’t my best choice.