Page 23 of Anchor

I’m so confused, and if I’m being honest with myself, I have been for ten years. Don’t get me wrong, I did doubt myself once I’d calmed down a few weeks later, wondering if I was making the right choice, wondering if we should talk things through, especially when I saw the bags underneath Travis’s eyes every day he came to the house, begging me to forgive him. But I also knew he broke my trust and did the one thing he knew was a deal breaker for me.

He doesn’t know the ins and outs of my childhood, only that Mom had a revolving door of men and that we moved a lot. He’s not aware of her negative words continuously in my ear day in and day out. He’s not aware that I was nearly attacked several times because the men Mom chose were sleazy, but she didn’t care because she just wanted someone to look after her, to provide for her.

He’s not aware of the crap she continued to tell me over the past ten years, and about how she’s adamant that he’ll destroy me if I give him another chance.

I sigh as the water washes over me. Slowly, I remove my face from the water and wipe my eyes, just as the shower door opens. I don’t have to turn to see it’s Travis.

I don’t move, even as he slowly wraps his arms around me tightly from behind, I stay under the water.

We don’t say anything for a little while, and I don’t know what to say because, yes, I love him, but I think couples therapy is something we should have done at least nine years ago, a year after I filed for divorce, allowing me to get my anger out, but it never came up and I never even thought about it.

Mom’s revolving door of men didn’t involve therapy; after one guy cheated and she forced me to move, another guy came along.

Travis kisses my shoulder, then whispers, “All I’m asking for is a chance. For ten years, I’ve tried to show you that you and that Micah came first. I tried to show you how much I fucking regretted what I did, hoping to rebuild that trust. And yeah, you trust me where our son is concerned because I kept him from the club like you wanted. I was there every step of the way after my fuck up, but you don’t trust me with you.” He kisses my shoulder again. “All I’m asking for is a chance, Angel, something you haven’t given me yet—and before you bite my head off, I know it’s my fault, but ten years….”

I swallow hard before taking a deep breath and turning in his hold. His arms tighten, but as soon as he realizes I won’t remove myself from his embrace, he loosens them and allows me to turn before re-tightening his arms.

As soon as our eyes connect, I say, “Put yourself in my shoes.” He opens his mouth, but I place my fingers over it, causinghim to smile and kiss my fingers, making my stomach flutter. I continue, “I was hormonal, not long given birth, and my husband, who was barely home because he was going through the prospecting phase, not only forgot our first wedding anniversary and meal he planned, but then expected my tired, smelly ass to spend it with men fucking out in the open.” He flinches, the man before me no longer the boy he was, realizing his mistake but maybe just too late. “My husband then storms out after calling me nasty names while I had our son attached to my breast, and I had to chase him down, only to find him screwing a whore from behind, claiming how the sex was better than it had been,” my eyes race between his, “why in the hell would I want to give us another chance when I can’t unsee it? And yes, it’s been ten years, but I still can’t get over it.”

His throat bobs, his eyes tearing up as he places his forehead against mine, then whispers, “I’m not the boy who took you for granted, Angel, I’m a man who has grown up trying to fight for what he lost.” He licks his bottom lip. “How about this, we try but keep it between us. We don’t get anyone else involved, and we get everything out with a person between us.” He gently kisses my lips. He begs, “Please, Angel….”

I hate it because a large part of me wants to. I keep going back to him, keep allowing him to sleep with me, but there’s a small voice in my head, pulling me back–my mother's.

“Please…” he tries again, and I sigh, closing my eyes, knowing I’m going to agree.

We need closure; this might be the only way for him to move on and sign the papers.

I nod slightly, and I feel him sag against me before his lips land on mine, and my feet are suddenly no longer on the showerfloor. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist before my back hits the shower wall, and his member is thrust inside me, making me gasp.

“Our son is eating and watching TV, which means we have roughly twenty minutes, and like fuck am I wasting them,” he rasps against my lips.

I breathe heavily and mutter, “This is the last time we’re having sex, so make it good.” I mean it, too, because I know therapy will be a bust. I’m too messed up in my head, no thanks to my mother, to forget and overcome what he did.

He narrows his eyes but nods, knowing we need to take sex out of the equation.

He dips his head and takes a nipple in his mouth, gently biting and sucking as he moves his hips back and then thrusts forward hard before swiveling his hips, his pelvis rubbing against my throbbing clit, making me throw my head back in pleasure. He repeats the action over and over, not once letting go of my nipple, sending my body into a frenzy.

After five minutes of him continuing his actions, my body begins to tingle, my stomach tightening, my orgasm building.

“Come for me, Angel,” Travis rasps against my nipple before biting it hard, sending a shock through my body—and that does it.

A scream builds, but Travis quickly covers my mouth with his and swallows the sound as I come all over him, my walls squeezing him tight.

“Fuck…” he groans as his hips move faster, losing rhythm, before he stills with his member deep inside me, his cum painting my walls.

“I love you, Heaven,” he whispers against my lips, “and I know you’re not happy about therapy and giving me a chance, but I can promise you, it will work, and I’ll never hurt you the way I did again….”

He kisses me, his tongue tangling with mine, and yes, I kiss him back, not willing to tell him that I don’t believe him.

My mother ensured I never would.

9

Anchor

I bounce my knee, my eyes going to the clock every five minutes, my palms beginning to sweat as the brothers argue over each other, nothing being resolved while my prez sits back, letting it happen because he knows I’m about to snap, meaning my VP status will come in to play, something I don’t often do when Steal is around but he knows I’ll get the job done.

I look at the clock again and silently groan. Fuck, Heaven is going to kill me….

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