With a Twist

by Sawyer Bennett

  "So why does that make you pathetic?" I ask in confusion, because this douche seems to be the pathetic one.

  "Because... I considered it. I actually thought about giving up my dreams to keep him."

  "But clearly you didn't," I point out. "So what's the problem? Seems to me you made a strong move. Seems to me his lack of compromise makes him the weak one."

  She shrugs her shoulders and pulls her hands free of mine, placing them on my chest so she can lean over me a bit. Her face hovers over mine. "Because for the longest time after... I kept doubting myself. That maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I should have agreed to stay in Pittsburgh. Shouldn't I have been willing to sacrifice something for love?"

  Her face is troubled but not pained. I find this interesting, so I prod some more. Reaching up, I take her face in my hands. "I still don't see how having those doubts makes you weak? What's really going on?"

  She gives me a shy smile, and then blasts me with utter honesty that takes me aback. "I feel a bit foolish... because the times you and I were together... the things you made me feel. Hell, the way you told me how beautiful I am just a few minutes ago. The way you made me feel beautiful just a few minutes after that. And the way you want to know about my feelings... I realize I didn't have any of that with him. In hindsight, I find myself to have been stupid for even thinking of giving up my dreams for someone that didn't truly touch me. You know what I mean?"

  I lean up, kiss her, and then pull her down to my chest. She rests her head there for a minute, and I stroke the back of her head. Finally, I have the words to say.

  "Andrea... you may have had moments of self-doubt, but in the end... you are where you are. You made the strong choice... the right choice. Everyone's always so focused on their destination that we forget to appreciate the things we learn along the journey. You did nothing more than have a few bumps along the way. That's all that is. Nothing more."

  She pulls her head up off my chest and looks at me as if I'm a living miracle. It makes my chest warm to receive it.

  "How is it you can spout a few philosophical words of wisdom and have me turning my perspective around?"

  "I'm just brilliant that way." I grin at her.

  "You are kind of brilliant," she says with a laugh and then looks at me mischievously. "And kind of sexy."

  "Oh, yeah?" I ask, smiling back at her.

  Andrea pushes up off me and scoots backward, down between my legs. Her hands work at the button and zipper of my shorts and then she has me in her grasp, stroking and squeezing me with beautiful torment.

  "Definitely sexy," she breathes out and lowers her mouth down. Her eyes rise up to me for a brief moment before she makes contact and my lungs freeze in anticipation. "Let me show you how sexy and brilliant you are."

  Chapter 16

  Andrea

  I finish giving the pancake batter a few more brisk strokes as I stare out Wyatt's kitchen window to the Atlantic Ocean. I woke up early, happy to be in Wyatt's bed... his home... sharing my free time with him. I decided to let him sleep, made a cup of coffee, and watched the sun rise over the steel-gray waters.

  Last night with Wyatt altered something within me. After he told me I was beautiful, went down on me, and then made me realize that maybe I was too hard on myself over my self-doubts about David, I did, in fact, return the oral favor. It was completely different from the last time I had my mouth on him in Simon Keyes' office.

  While I enjoyed that encounter, I still suffered guilt over it. It wasn't something we've discussed since then, and in fact, we haven't really discussed the operation at all. I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

  This time, however, with my mouth on Wyatt's cock and his hands in my hair urging me on, it was an entirely different experience. Still hot as all get out, but infinitely so much better because of this new personal connection we had acknowledged. My goal to pleasure him last night came from deep inside... a raw need to give him something of myself. This wasn't curiosity and hormones surging high like the last time.

  No, last night was about me giving him an ultimate and pure gift of intimacy that I haven't really shared with anyone else. Oh, I've shared the act with someone before, but never gave it as a gift, and that made all the difference in the world to me.

  Afterward, we lay in bed, cuddled, and talked a bit, then we decided we needed nutrition. Wyatt whipped up a quick pasta with a red sauce, and we ate side by side on his couch while we watched a movie. Then we watched another movie, and I fell asleep with my head on his lap and his hand stroking my hair. He woke me up close to midnight, carried me to bed, made love to me, and then tucked me in tight against his body. I slept like a log and woke feeling amazingly refreshed and riding high on happy endorphins.

  Putting the bowl of batter down, I flip on the electric griddle that I had found tucked in the back of his tiny pantry. While it heats up, I pull out a stick of butter from the fridge. I cut a few pats off, throw them on the griddle, and once they are melted, I pour out enough batter to make four small pancakes.

  As I wait for the cakes to start to bubble on top, I let my mind drift a bit. I have eight days left here with Wyatt, and I'm not sure what I'm hoping to accomplish. I knew there was a very distinct possibility when I came to visit that we would have sex. But that's not why I came.

  I came because he stirred feelings up inside of me that wouldn't let my mind have any rest. Too much emotion was churning within me, and Wyatt and I had been through something together that forges a bond. I simply had to come and try to figure out what it was.

  I have no more clarity on the matter other than to know, without a doubt, that Wyatt is a much finer man than I ever gave him credit for. I mean... I knew he was a good and decent man from the start. He went out of his way to protect me, and I know deep down in my gut, he probably would have sacrificed the mission to keep me from harm. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would have died protecting me if it came down to it that night during the bust. But just these last two nights with him, talking to him, seeing how he gets me to open up... his easy charm, his humor and his kindness.

  Well... it seems I may have found what may be a genuine soul, and the thought of leaving that in eight days is already sitting heavy with me. Sitting heavier is the fact that I have no clue if he feels anything remotely near what I feel, and worse yet... maybe my feelings are seemingly strong because I'm rebounding off David and the way he jilted me.

  Tiny bubbles rise up from the pancakes, spurring me into action. I grab the spatula and slide it deftly under the first one.

  "Jesus Christ, Andrea... are you trying to give me a heart attack first thing in the morning?" Wyatt barks at me from behind.

  I yelp and jerk upward, causing the pancake to flip up and right off the back of the griddle, where it lands with a splat on the counter.

  Turning to Wyatt with the spatula in one hand and my other slapped over my chest, I gasp, "Oh my God. You gave me a heart attack sneaking up behind me like that."

  Wyatt stands there in a pair of pajama bottoms made of blue cotton, his hair sticking up all around his head and his eyes roving over me. His gaze finally comes to meet mine and his eyes are sleepy... yet totally hot with lust.

  He prowls toward me, again raking his eyes from head to toe.

  "What's all this?" he says as he waves his hand up and down, pointing at my body.

  I look down, and then back up with a sly grin. "Oh, this?" I ask coyly as I twirl around once in front of him. "I'm making naked pancakes for you."

  He grins and grabs ahold of my waist, pulling me in tight to him. I can feel his erection pushing up against my stomach. His face goes into the crook of my neck and he murmurs, "Naked pancakes, huh? Never had those before."

  Scraping his teeth along my neck, I giggle and wrap my arms around him, the spatula still in my grip. "It was supposed to be surprise. Now go get back in bed so I can bring them to you."

  "No fucking way," he growls, and then pulls back to look at me with a grin. "I'
m too hungry to wait. Need something right now."

  Before I can even comprehend what's going on, he spins me around, latches an arm around my stomach, and pulls me back tight to him. His hand shoots out, grabs the syrup I had previously pulled out, and turns it upside down. A hard flex of his hand on the bottle and he squirts syrup on my chest, right in the center, moving it to the right to cover one of my breasts.

  "What the hell--?" I yelp as the spatula clatters to the floor from my hand, but then Wyatt spins me again.

  One of his hands goes around my back, the other to my hair, and he tugs hard on it so I bow backward, thrusting my breasts up. His head bends, his tongue starts working on the syrup, and in two swipes, he has a nipple in his mouth.

  My hands go to his hair, and I give a purr of contentment while he laps at me. This is what I want to wake up to every morning. Wyatt licks, sucks, and bites at my sticky skin. It makes me ache... My skin tingles and my blood heats so hot, I swear I can smell it burning.

  Burning?

  Wait... what?

  "Oh shit," I yell out as the acrid smell of burnt pancakes penetrates the fog of lust Wyatt put me in. I shove out of his arms, turn to the griddle, and slap the switch off. Thick smoke filters up into the air, and I wave my hand through it to help it dissipate.

  "First attempt at naked pancakes," Wyatt says sadly as he looks at the smoking mess. "Epic fail."

  I turn to him with my mouth open. He looks so serious... so forlorn. I start to say something... a commiseration maybe, but he starts snickering. Then he bends over and starts laughing.

  "Damn, baby... I thought for a moment you were going up in flames in my arms," he chortles. "Turns out it was just burned pancakes. I'm losing my touch."

  Spontaneous giggles pour out of my own mouth and I slap him on the shoulder. "Great job. You made me burn our breakfast."

  Wyatt straightens and pulls me back in his arms, wrapping his arms loosely around my waist. Grinning down at me, he says, "Big, bad, FBI agent Somerville... who would have known... she's a giggler."

  I suck in a breath and hitch my shoulders back, leveling my most stern look at him. "I most certainly do not giggle."

  But then I break down in a fit of hilarity again when Wyatt snorts at me.

  Giving me a quick kiss and skimming his hands up my ribs, he murmurs, "Why don't you go get cleaned up and I'll take you out to breakfast? I'll clean up this mess."

  I stare at him a moment. He stares back at me with the happiest, most carefree look on his face. It makes him look boyish and charming, and I feel my heart sigh. "Okay. Sounds like a deal."

  One more soft kiss, then he's turning me around, slapping me on my naked butt, and pushing me back toward the bedroom. When I get to the hallway entrance, I sneak a peek back over my shoulder. He's scooping up pancakes from the griddle and throwing them in the garbage. The early morning sunlight is pouring in through the window, lighting up his golden-brown skin and making the natural highlights in his hair sparkle.

  I think about the man that was Raze Hawkins.

  Cold, hard, detached. Prostitution peddler and lap dog to a slave trader. I'm amazed that someone as easygoing and down to earth as Wyatt was able to pull off that role. When I first met him as "Raze," I had no clue he was in character. I just assumed that was Wyatt's natural personality.

  As I came to know him over the course of the operation, it started to become clear to me that he was putting on just as much of a performance as I was. The memory that guts me... the one that I think forged a personal connection between us, was that night in Simon's office when Lance forced me on Wyatt.

  As I crawled toward him... put my hand on his knee to ease my way in between his legs, he had a look of such sorrow on his face that I saw the real man behind the facade. I knew that he was also sacrificing a part of his soul to see this mission through, just as I was. No one that was involved in this entire scheme would ever know the immoral stains that Wyatt and I would need to scrub off us when this was finished. It gave us a common experience that no one would ever share or understand.

  It is amazing to me that we've yet to talk about that, but I think that has more to do with the fact that we have been immersed in a fog of lust since I arrived. I do think we should probably talk about everything that went down, if only for each of us to have an outlet.

  I head directly into Wyatt's bathroom that is part of the master suite. It's small with only a corner shower, small sink, and toilet, but I expect a bachelor doesn't really need much else. Wetting a washcloth, I wipe the rest of the syrup off my chest, although I have to admit, Wyatt did a good job of licking most of it away.

  After rinsing the cloth out, I hang it up and give my teeth a quick brush. Quick swish of mouthwash and I'm ready to get dressed to go out to breakfast.

  I pad back into the bedroom and kneel down on his carpeted floor where my suitcase is lying. I rifle through, grabbing panties and a bra, and a pair of jean shorts and a tank top. One thing I've learned since coming to the Outer Banks is that casual is the mode of dress around here.

  Before I can stand to put my clothes on, I hear a "ding" on my phone, which is charging on the dresser right next to me. I reach up, disconnect it from the cord, and see a text from Kyle.

  Just checking in. Hope you're having a good time on vacation.

  My smile burns bright over his thoughtfulness. I should have taken some time and gone out to visit him, and I feel slightly guilty choosing Wyatt over Kyle. But I think he'd understand.

  Oh, not that I'm having hot and wild sex with my undercover partner, but that I'm happy and having fun, and mostly... that I'm not pining over David.

  I quickly text him back. Having a great time. Call you later.

  Before putting my phone back and getting dressed, I do a quick check of my email and don't see anything important. I switch over to my Facebook app and give a quick perusal. I don't post a lot of personal stuff on my wall, but that's only because I sadly don't have a lot of personal stuff to share. My life had been filled with nothing but my career and David. My FBI work was private so I couldn't post about that, and David wasn't on Facebook. I used it mainly to keep in contact with old high school and college friends but sometimes, I'll go weeks without getting on.

  In fact, I haven't been on since before I left for Raleigh to go undercover.

  When the app opens, the first thing I notice is several notifications at the bottom and one friend request. Ignoring the notifications, I click on the "Requests" icon. My jaw drops when I see who is asking to be friends with me.

  David Lovitt... my ex-fiance.

  What in the hell?

  I have no clue when he sent this friend request, and I'm absolutely perplexed as to why he would bother to want to be friends with me as our break up was not pretty.

  There was lots of crying and pleading on my part--which sort of shames me now--and a lot of hurtful words on his part.

  "I don't understand where this is coming from, David?" I had said with tears pooling in my eyes. He had just broken my heart by telling me that he wanted to call the engagement off.

  "Seriously, Andrea?" he had sneered. "I told you I am not moving from Pittsburgh. You refuse to pull your application. A husband and wife can't live in different states, so there's no fucking reason to stay engaged. I'm sure as hell not marrying someone that can't respect my decision on that."

  "But I might not even get accepted," I pointed out as I wiped the back of my hand over my eyes. "Everything could just stay the same, and you're willing to throw everything away over the possibility I might have to move?"

  David sneered at me. "It's more than that. It's the fact you're choosing your career over me. I don't want to be with someone like that."

  "David, please--" I had implored, but he cut me off.

  "Just forget it," he said and turned toward my door. "We're done unless you pull that application. And even if you did... I'm not even sure we can fix this."

  He left me standing there. Only after the d
oor closed behind him did I let the tears really flow.

  I could have pulled my application. Those first few days I was so lonely... so desperate to have his love back... I came very close to doing just what he wanted. But I never could seem to actually make myself do it. Instead, I kept hoping he'd come to his senses. I called him... sent him texts... a few emails. He never responded, and I eventually gave up.

  In hindsight, and especially with Wyatt's words of wisdom still ringing in my ears, it's easy to see that I made the right choice--even if it hurt like hell to do it. I'm better off without him.

  Still... my curiosity is killing me, and while I truly don't believe that we are meant for each other, there is a large part of me that wants to know what he's thinking. Why is he contacting me? Especially because he has my phone number and my email. He could have contacted me if he wanted.

  What if... what if he's found someone else, and he's just friending me on Facebook to rub my face in it?

  Now my curiosity is through the roof--morbid as hell--and before I can stop myself, I accept his friend request. Then I exit out of Facebook and put my phone aside. I'll check back in a few days and see what he does.

  Until then... I suddenly decide that I'm not interested in going out for breakfast. I think Wyatt was on to something when he poured the syrup on me, and I think I'd like to revisit that idea with him right now.

  Chapter 17

  Wyatt

  Mmmm... waking up to Andrea making naked pancakes.

  That is something I could definitely get used to.

  Laughing over burnt, naked pancakes? Yeah, I could get used to that too.

  I scrape the charred, little discs off the griddle, depositing them into the garbage. After filling the sink up with soapy water, I make a quick cup of coffee while I wait for the griddle to cool just a little more. I think after breakfast I'll take Andrea on a drive and show her around the Outer Banks. Maybe a nice seafood lunch somewhere, then back to my cottage where I will insist we spend the rest of the day in bed.

  Good plan.

  As I take my first sip of coffee, I hear a knocking at my front door. Leaning back against the counter, I ignore it and enjoy another sip of coffee... the nectar of the gods.