The Anchor by B.N. Toler

Author:B.N. Toler [Toler, B.N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-07-15T07:00:00+00:00

He wouldn’t let me drive back to the house. I want to argue with him that pregnancy doesn’t mean I’m an invalid, but I bit my tongue because honestly, I kind of like that he’s trying to take care of me. His attentiveness has grown on me. His large hand is resting on my thigh and I reach mine up and softly start scratching his neck.

“Damn, that feels good,” he mumbles. “I have some good news, Nik.”

“Really?” I ask.

“I have an interview tomorrow. It’s at a small practice in Knightdale.”

“That’s great,” I cheer. I’m surprised by how happy this news makes me. I’ve missed Parker and I want him here. Trying to “date” someone that’s never around isn’t exactly productive to our situation. But I’m still a little apprehensive. I’m terrified things are going to blow up in my face. But I know I have to give this a chance. Yes, for the baby, but it’s not just that. I’ve never reacted to man like this before. I think about him way more than I care to admit, and I know that has to mean something.

His smile tells me he’s pleased with my reaction, and that makes me a little sad. I know he’s been worried I’d try to end this in his absence. I hate that I made him feel that way. “It’s not a sure thing, but I’m hopeful,” he adds.

I remove my fingers from his neck and grab his hand from my thigh and kiss it. “Thank you for doing this for us, Parker. I mean, there’s so much uncertainty and you’re just jumping in feet first. It means a lot to me.”

This time, he takes my hand and kisses it—his warm breath dancing across my skin. “You haven’t left my mind since the weekend you and Edie came into town. I know deep down that means something. God, Nikki. You’ve . . . consumed me. And I don’t care how uncertain it seems . . . it feels right to me. I want to know everything about you. I want to know how you like your eggs cooked, and the title of your favorite book, and the name of the first guy you ever kissed. I crave you.”

My cheeks heat with his words. This man gets to me. “Over medium, Where the Red Fern Grows, and Lance Milton,” I tell him.

“Was it good?”

“What? The book?”

“No. Lance. Was he a good kisser?”

I laugh. “We were eight so he definitely didn’t have your level of expertise.”

“Did you tongue him?” He’s teasing me. He grins as he pokes his tongue out and flicks it obnoxiously.

Smacking his leg, I tsk. “You’re terrible. And, no. Lance was a little gentleman, unlike someone I know.”

Parker’s mouth curves to the side as his hand slides up my thigh until it reaches my core. As he applies firm pressure and glides his fingers ever so slightly, in slow circles, I swallow back the whimper I want to release. “Baby, I am a gentleman,” he insists, “in most ways.

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