Page 159
Story: The Anchor Holds
I chuckled. “And dare I point out that your nanny is pretty, nice, and wonderful with your daughter?”
He gave me the full brunt of his fury. “And in her fucking twenties.”
I shrugged. “She’s legal. And seems older than that.”
It was true. Although Hannah was unmistakably young, she held herself and spoke better than a lot of adults I knew. And she had something in her eyes that hinted at a harder life than her face betrayed.
“Young enough to be my daughter,” Beau muttered, more to himself than me.
“Not by a long shot, brother.” I didn’t chuckle out loud that time. I knew my brother was doing everything he could to ensure that something he wanted was out of reach, and as much as I wanted to help him attain happiness, it was my wedding day.
“Go and ask her to dance.” I slapped him on the shoulder.
He flashed me another glower as if I’d suggested he bend her over in the middle of the dance floor. I held up my hands. “Ordon’t. Stay up here and be a miserable bastard. I’m going to get my wife. Because I’m not a miserable bastard.” I winked at him then went looking for her.
Calliope was leaning against the bar, sipping a martini.
I came up behind her, wrapping my arms around her. She sank into me. I closed my eyes, reveling in her warmth and the gentle rise and fall of her breath telling me she was breathing. It calmed my heartbeat.
I still wasn’t free of the images of her lifeless on that dock. I didn’t think I would ever be.
Calliope put down her glass and leaned back against my shoulder, exposing the pale column of her throat and the dip of her dress leading to the exquisite breasts I was planning on burying my head in between in a handful of minutes.
“I know I paid a lot for the party, and it is excellent, but I’m ready to get back to the hotel room and consummate this marriage. How about you?” she purred.
My palm settled against her stomach, pressing her silk clad ass against my hard cock.
“How’s that for an answer, wife?” I murmured against her ear.
She turned in my arms, tipping her head upward, gifting me with a sly smile. “Answer enough for me, husband.”
She rose up to kiss me. And I did my job of lifting her over my shoulder and carrying her out of the party to hoots and hollers from our respective families.
Best day of my life.
And I knew there were many more to come.
BEAU
I sipped my whiskey.
I knew I’d had one too many.
But I needed the radiating sting of it, something to hold on to, something to distract me from her. In that fucking dress, skimming over every one of her delicate curves.
What the fuck did she think, dressing like that? It was awedding.
I didn’t miss the men, too fucking old for her—my age, which was too fucking old—feasting on her with their eyes. The waiters, closer in age, ogling her ass. I wanted to pummel all of them for daring to look at what was mine.
But she wasn’t mine.
I tipped the last of the whiskey down my throat.
Not mine.
My daughter’s nanny. Years younger. Too good for me. That’s what she was.
Never mine.
Yet when her head tipped up and she directed her eyes to where I was sitting, our eyes locked and my cock twitched.
Mine, something deep inside me growled.
She smiled, hesitantly, softly, seeming to be uneasy as she often was around me. Everything about her was delicate, soft. More than anything, I wanted to calm her, make her feel relaxed around me.
I scowled at her, pushing my chair back so hard it tumbled to the ground before I stalked away.
I’d fire her.
Tomorrow.
He gave me the full brunt of his fury. “And in her fucking twenties.”
I shrugged. “She’s legal. And seems older than that.”
It was true. Although Hannah was unmistakably young, she held herself and spoke better than a lot of adults I knew. And she had something in her eyes that hinted at a harder life than her face betrayed.
“Young enough to be my daughter,” Beau muttered, more to himself than me.
“Not by a long shot, brother.” I didn’t chuckle out loud that time. I knew my brother was doing everything he could to ensure that something he wanted was out of reach, and as much as I wanted to help him attain happiness, it was my wedding day.
“Go and ask her to dance.” I slapped him on the shoulder.
He flashed me another glower as if I’d suggested he bend her over in the middle of the dance floor. I held up my hands. “Ordon’t. Stay up here and be a miserable bastard. I’m going to get my wife. Because I’m not a miserable bastard.” I winked at him then went looking for her.
Calliope was leaning against the bar, sipping a martini.
I came up behind her, wrapping my arms around her. She sank into me. I closed my eyes, reveling in her warmth and the gentle rise and fall of her breath telling me she was breathing. It calmed my heartbeat.
I still wasn’t free of the images of her lifeless on that dock. I didn’t think I would ever be.
Calliope put down her glass and leaned back against my shoulder, exposing the pale column of her throat and the dip of her dress leading to the exquisite breasts I was planning on burying my head in between in a handful of minutes.
“I know I paid a lot for the party, and it is excellent, but I’m ready to get back to the hotel room and consummate this marriage. How about you?” she purred.
My palm settled against her stomach, pressing her silk clad ass against my hard cock.
“How’s that for an answer, wife?” I murmured against her ear.
She turned in my arms, tipping her head upward, gifting me with a sly smile. “Answer enough for me, husband.”
She rose up to kiss me. And I did my job of lifting her over my shoulder and carrying her out of the party to hoots and hollers from our respective families.
Best day of my life.
And I knew there were many more to come.
BEAU
I sipped my whiskey.
I knew I’d had one too many.
But I needed the radiating sting of it, something to hold on to, something to distract me from her. In that fucking dress, skimming over every one of her delicate curves.
What the fuck did she think, dressing like that? It was awedding.
I didn’t miss the men, too fucking old for her—my age, which was too fucking old—feasting on her with their eyes. The waiters, closer in age, ogling her ass. I wanted to pummel all of them for daring to look at what was mine.
But she wasn’t mine.
I tipped the last of the whiskey down my throat.
Not mine.
My daughter’s nanny. Years younger. Too good for me. That’s what she was.
Never mine.
Yet when her head tipped up and she directed her eyes to where I was sitting, our eyes locked and my cock twitched.
Mine, something deep inside me growled.
She smiled, hesitantly, softly, seeming to be uneasy as she often was around me. Everything about her was delicate, soft. More than anything, I wanted to calm her, make her feel relaxed around me.
I scowled at her, pushing my chair back so hard it tumbled to the ground before I stalked away.
I’d fire her.
Tomorrow.
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