Page 40 of Anchor

He steps back in confusion, and I must admit, I’m fucking loving this.

“How, I mean…” he grumbles before he gets a grip and demands, “If that’s the case, then why did she date me?” Anger now erupts from him, and he is most likely feeling used, which, to be fair, he kind of was. She was trying to forget about me and our love, but that was never going to happen, something I believe or want to believe she’s come to terms with now.

I side-eye Cazza, whose eyes I can feel staring into me before I admit, “Because I fucked up and slept with someone else out of anger.” I lean forward a little, my guard still up, especially with the anger I can feel coming from Cazza, and tell the banker, “That was ten years ago and yet she’s still married to me, still allowing me into her bed. You had one date with her, and fuck, it wasn’t even that. She met you there, drank half of her glass of wine, then left, so do yourself a favor, turn around, and get the fuck outta my shop before I stab my tattoo gun into your eye for trying to claim my wife and son!”

“You have a son?” Cazza shouts just as the banker growls and bends a little at the waist before sprinting my way, and I grin.

Fucker took my bait….

I hear the bell to the door ding as I manage to get the banker into a headlock and twist my body to the side, tightening my hold on his neck.

“Hey, Cazza, I know I haven’t spoken to you in years, and no, I don’t want a lecture right now; I just came to see Trav….” I hear my Angel trail off as she walks into my shop for the first time, and that hope that was building fills me as I slam my body slam the banker to the floor.

“What the…” I hear Heaven mutter.

I state, “Be with you in a minute, Angel, just need to put someone in their place, is all….”

“Is all, huh?” she replies, but she soon gasps as I stand, grab the banker’s hair, and yank him up, allowing her to see the man I’m about to kick the shit out of.

“Jake?” she chokes in shock, and I look at my wife.

“SeemsJakehere believes half an hour in a bar with you means you belong to him. You. Are. Mine!” I sneer, my anger directed at a fucking loser who believes a woman is his after half an hour,myfucking woman at that.

Growling, I slam my fist into his face—once, twice, three times—before I throw him on the floor of my tattoo shop.

He looks up at me, eye bruised, lip bleeding, nose crooked, and stutters, “I-I’m suing!”

I sneer at the weasel and state coldly, “Go ahead, this place is riddled with cameras; as far as any judge would be concerned, it was self-defense,” before I pull my leg back and kick the fucker in the head, knocking him out.

“Damn, who knew you were the jealous type,” I hear my wife mutter, and I glare her way, which, of course, unlike most people, she does not cower; instead, she bites her bottom lip, making my dick twitch, and I grab my phone.

Prospect W: Get to the tattoo parlor and clear out the trash. Bring a newbie to help.

I press send, then point at my wife. “You get your ass in my room now unless you want several questions from Art.” Her eyes widen, and she quickly does as I demand, quickly kissing Cazza’s cheek on her way past. I point at Cazza next and state, “You, don’t breathe a word about of Heaven. The club isn’t to know until I have my property patch on her back; I don’t need them involved right now.”

She nods and mumbles, “As soon as the shocks wear off, I’m killing you for cheating on her.”

I huff and walk past her, muttering, “I’ve been dead for ten years without her, Cazza, so don’t worry, I’ve been punished.”

I storm into my room and slam the door shut, locking it instantly. Heaven doesn’t look up from the notepad on the table; instead, she flips from picture to picture as I take her in.

She’s wearing a light pink flared dress that comes to her knees, with ankle boots, and a jean jacket—my mouth goes dry.

My wife is fucking gorgeous….

“This is kind of stalkerish, you know,” she says, trying to hide her true feelings as she looks at my work of just her and our son, but the awe in her voice gives her away.

“Not when you’re my wife it’s not, Angel,” I mutter back as I walk over to her. Without another word, I slam the book shut, grip her high ponytail tight, and yank back, forcing her to look at me. She gasps but soon moans as I take her lips with mine, my tongue instantly in her mouth, tangling it with hers. As soon as I taste the coffee she’s had and the flavor that is all her, I lose it.

I don’t think, I just act. With one hand gripping her hair, and without breaking the kiss, I bend at the knees a little and wrap my arm underneath her ass and lift her, causing her hands to latch onto my shoulders.

Blindly, I walk over to my tattoo chair and sit her on it, forcing her to spread her legs with my hips as I step in as close as I can. Without taking my lips off hers, I reach between us and pull her dress up her thighs before reaching for her underwear.

I groan, feeling that the lace soaked, and latch onto them as I break the kiss and make eye contact with my girl.

Her icy blue eyes shine with lust and love, a look I’ve fucking missed on her, and I mutter, “Guess me being jealous makes you wet, huh, Angel?”

She smirks at me. “Or Jake could have?—”

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