With a Twist

by Sawyer Bennett

  It's slightly disconcerting to hear that she slept with this guy without even really knowing him, but then I feel like a neon sign with a big arrow that says, "Hypocrite" is pointed down at me. I know I've certainly had my share of one-night stands, as has Hunter. Brody... not so much as he spent five years in prison and then fell in love with Alyssa, but still... I know it's generally acceptable for men to be able to sleep around, and they're just considered studs. Women do it, and they're called whores.

  But that doesn't set right... not when I'm looking across the table at Casey. I don't see her as that. Instead, I just see her as an incredibly strong, mature, and liberated woman who believes that whatever is good for the goose is good for the gander.

  It's hard to argue with that line of thinking.

  Luckily, this group of women now includes Alyssa and Savannah, who have babies, and the talk eventually turns to that. That's definitely more along the lines of what I prefer the women discuss, but even that turns boring to me.

  Not because I have anything against kids. On the contrary, I love them to distraction and dote on my nieces and nephews. I want at least two myself, but my limit would be four.

  But this is boring me because as Andrea sits next to me, her hand casually resting on my thigh, all I can think about is getting her alone again.

  To fuck, to talk, to cuddle, to walk along the beach, to laugh.

  All the things we have been doing oh so damn well since she arrived.

  I want more of it, and time is ticking.

  But I don't drag her out, and I continue to add into the conversation when I can. I do that because she's having a good time with the girls, and I'm not about to take that away from her.

  Besides, I like knowing she's so accepted into our crowd. I like that she likes that as well. It means that our foundation keeps building steadily.

  Breakfast is ordered... it's served, and I eat it quickly and without taking my eyes off my plate so that poison and/or laxatives are not placed on my food. I laugh when appropriate, and I watch Andrea start to make new friends, grateful that it's another way to cement her to me.

  Chapter 22

  Andrea

  Wyatt walks out on the back deck, a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and two glasses held tight by the stems in one hand. With the other, he pulls the sliding door closed.

  "Ready?"

  I pat the blanket folded over my arm. "Ready."

  But not really. I'm not ready for us to take one more step forward in time, because it's our last night together and I'm sure as hell not ready to leave tomorrow. I'm not excited about returning to Pittsburgh or even returning to my job. I'm only vaguely excited about the prospect of getting into the BRIU.

  All of that... my life... just seems so far removed at this moment. It seems like a dull dream. It's like the gray of Kansas before Dorothy landed in the brilliance of Oz.

  I follow Wyatt down the deck stairs, and we only walk a few feet away before he motions for me to spread out the blanket. After both of us have our butts firmly planted, side by side, facing the moonlit ocean, Wyatt cracks open the wine--twisting the cap actually--and pours us each a glass.

  He holds his glass angled toward me, and I tap mine against it.

  Clink.

  "So... are we celebrating your last night here?" he asks softly.

  "Not something I think I want to celebrate," I murmur.

  "Me either."

  "This sucks."

  "Big time."

  "This is deep conversation."

  "The deepest."

  We both start laughing, and he bumps his shoulder against mine. I push back gently against his and then take a sip of my wine.

  After I swallow, I tell him, "So... I sent a message back to David."

  "Yeah?"

  "Mmmm. Hmmm," is all I say before I take another sip of my wine. The ocean is lovely... a pure cloudless night with a bright moon, causing the water to look like it's covered in floating, crushed diamonds.

  "Are you going to tell me what you said to him?"

  "Sure. Why not."

  His head swivels to me, and I can see the moon glittering in his light blue eyes filled with serious interest. He patiently waits for me to divulge.

  "I just told him that I wasn't interested in talking. That it was best that we just both keep moving forward with our lives, but I appreciated his concern. I assured him I was fine."

  "Did he respond?"

  "No," I say while rubbing my finger around the edge of my glass. "But I expect him to. David was never one of those types that let me have the last word."

  Wyatt snorts. "Maybe I need to step in and play the jealous boyfriend role."

  I reach out and lace my free hand with his. Leaning my head on his shoulder, I ask in a teasing tone, "Is that what you are? My boyfriend."

  His hand reflexively squeezes mine but his tone isn't teasing when he says, "Boyfriend sounds so juvenile. All I know is that you're mine and I'm yours."

  My smile comes immediately... the warmth in my chest right behind. Lifting my head up, I reach over and push my wineglass into the sand. Coming up to my knees, I turn to face him and take his wineglass away. It finds a resting spot next to mine.

  I scoot in closer to him, maneuvering my way in between his legs. I keep on scooting, and only when his arms are wrapped securely around me do I lean in to kiss him. When his tongue is against mine, I bring my hands up to cup his face. I pour every bit of feeling into my kiss, not so I have to avoid the words, but because I just want this to be a prelude to them.

  When I pull away, I tell him as honestly as I can, "We can make this work. I know we can."

  He smiles at me... bigger and brighter than the moon. "You think so, huh?"

  Dropping my hands from his face to his shoulders, I sit back on my haunches a bit so he can see me clearly. "Wyatt... when we were in Simon's office... when Lance forced us to... you know."

  "Yeah, I know, baby," he says softly.

  "I wasn't afraid. I wasn't repulsed. I didn't feel like I was doing my duty to save the mission. I didn't give a shit that Lance was standing there, and I sure as hell didn't crawl across the carpet toward you because he was making me."

  Wyatt's head tilts to the side... a tiny huff of breath comes out of his lips. "Why did you do it then?"

  "Because of the way you were looking at me. The way you were aching for me... the sorrow you held for me, because I was in that position. You were angry with yourself that you couldn't protect me. You blamed yourself because I was on my knees before you. I saw all of that, Wyatt. I saw into your soul in that moment. And I knew... I knew that you were something different... something special, in my life. I may not have pieced all of this together right away. I surely didn't know that I would be sitting here with you in this moment, but I knew you were brought into my life for a reason."

  "Andrea," he says softly, almost pleadingly, as his hands now come up to frame my face.

  "So, why did I crawl across that carpet toward you? Why did I refuse to fake that act and take you into my mouth instead?" I ask him fervently.

  He shakes his head... because he still doesn't understand it.

  "I did it because my heart told me to do it. In that moment, my heart was already offering up a piece of itself to you. It had decided that I was going to be yours, and you were going to be mine."

  Wyatt's fingers squeeze against my temple slightly. He does this because he's moved by what I've said so far, and I know this by the naked emotion on his face. But there's one more thing I need to say.

  "I know this may seem weird... having feelings like that. And I really didn't recognize what was going on at that time until just recently... as I was trying to get a handle on how I felt about you now. All I know is it's really how I felt about you then. Maybe not the same level, but that's where it started taking root. When I took you in my hands... my mouth. Such an intimate act and it was beautiful for me. I didn't feel degraded... only fulfilled."

  "Fuck, A
ndrea," Wyatt growls out, and his arms band around me, jerking me into him, his face going into my neck. "Fuck, baby. I've felt so bad about that. It's weighed on me, you have to know that, or you wouldn't have bothered to give me that speech."

  "I know," I murmur as I snuggle in deeper to him. "I know and I want you to know that you have nothing to feel bad about. That was our first beautiful moment together. Our second was in that locker room... your face between my legs--"

  "So beautiful," he says and squeezes me hard.

  "You see why I had to come and see you?" I ask him. "I had to let this continue to play out. We weren't done."

  I don't know how he does it, but one minute I'm kneeling before Wyatt and the next I'm in his arms and he's carrying me up the stairs, blanket and wine completely forgotten. My palm lays against his chest and I can feel how hard his heart is pounding.

  Straight to his room... his stride never wavers. He sets me gently down on the floor and when I'm standing steadily, we both proceed to remove each other's clothes. We do this taking brief moments to kiss, stroke, or squeeze exposed skin. But there's an urgency riding hard within us so we don't linger too long.

  When we're both naked, he turns away from me, crawls onto the bed, turns over, and lies on his back. Reaching a hand out, he says, "Come here, Andrea. I want you straddling my face."

  I swallow hard and his words alone have the space between my legs cramping hard with anticipation. Reaching out... I take his hand and he pulls me toward him. One knee goes up on the bed, then another, and then both his hands are on me and he's pulling me up his body.

  "Yeah, baby," he rasps out. His muscles bulge as he lifts me slightly, pulling me right up and over his face. His breath is hot on me, and I shudder when he says, "Yeah... want you on my face so I can show you that you're mine. Then I want you straddling my aching cock. I want you to ride me... show me that I'm yours."

  "I can do that," I manage to whisper but then that turns into a gasp... then a moan as his head tilts up and his mouth closes over me.

  Oh, God... oh, my freakin' God. Wyatt's mouth and tongue should be licensed weapons, because surely, I'm going to perish from how good this feels. I grab onto the headboard, because if I don't, I will collapse on him due to the weakness in my legs.

  Wyatt devours me from below, groaning his own pleasure into me... causing vibrations and skittering impulses to fire off throughout my body. It's seconds only... maybe milliseconds... but I don't hold it back and I come harder than I ever have in my life.

  And because I want to show Wyatt that he is indeed mine, I manage to haul my pleasure-flushed body down his and sink onto his hard shaft. I ride him good and long, I fire off one more time, and then he's coming deep inside of me, knifing up into a sitting position, and fusing his mouth with mine.

  He pours out the most beautiful moan into my mouth while he shoots into me, and I think to myself... yeah, we are never going to be done.

  Much later... after Wyatt is asleep, I grab my laptop and creep out into his living room. In the dark, I boot it up and wait for it to connect to his Wi-Fi. I pull up my browser, which preloads with open tabs for Facebook, Twitter, the FBI secure-server email, and Google.

  I ignore the notification that tells me I have a message on Facebook, knowing in my gut it's from David. But I'm not interested in what he has to say. I'll read it at some point, and maybe I'll need to respond, but maybe I'll decide I don't want to. Regardless, he's not a priority to think about.

  I quickly check my work email. Two new cases are awaiting me... both involving bank fraud. We'll have to bring in consultants from our White-Collar division. Nothing that causes me concern but certainly doesn't cause excitement. An email from Dale Lambert though has my heart beating a tad faster when I see that his subject line says, "BRIU Application".

  Clicking on the email, I try to read it slowly, but my eyes keep flying forward over the words. I see "received my update," "impressed," and "another interview". Taking a deep breath, I read the email more slowly, and it's good news. The BRIU is interested in another interview with me, in light of my efforts and success with the Simon Keyes bust.

  Sitting back into the couch cushions, I just stare at my computer a moment. I feel happy... proud of myself. Finally, I'm one step closer to achieving my goal. And yet, I don't feel exhilarated. No full-blown elation. I would have thought this moment would at least bring a fist pump or a strange shake-your-booty-type dance.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I log out of the secure server and flip over to Google, which was my main reason for coming out here. I couldn't sleep... my mind on absolute overdrive fretting over the next time I could see Wyatt again. I know it seems a little obsessive, but I'm already missing him and I haven't even left yet.

  I know Wyatt will gladly come and visit me in Pittsburgh. I'm sure he will at some point. But while the weather is still spectacular, I thought maybe I could find a place that was halfway in between our two homes, where we could spend time outdoors. Some place romantic... special.

  Annapolis, Maryland came to mind. It's special to me because my dad graduated from the Naval Academy there.

  I've been there twice. The first time was after I graduated from UVA. I took a trip there by myself... seeking a connection to my dad, who was still inspiring me from the grave to be an FBI agent. I went after my college graduation because it was the first big milestone I had accomplished on my own, and I wanted him to be proud of me. It seemed fitting to go tour his Alma Mater, a place I know was special to him because he wrapped me in a Navy blanket. My dad had served six years with the U.S. Navy after he graduated, and then he became an FBI agent.

  The second time I visited was after my first BRIU interview at Quantico. I took an extra day and went to Annapolis. I didn't walk the Academy's campus on this trip, but rather stayed in a hotel down on the waterfront, completely charmed by the cobblestone streets and eclectic shops. I sat at an outdoor cafe and sipped at a latte while I thought of how my dad made it into the BRIU just three years after he became an agent. I was convinced at that time, more than ever, that I was following correctly in my dad's footsteps.

  Now, I'm not so sure, since the prospect of another interview is causing only some mildly happy feelings, and I'm much more concerned with finding a nice place for Wyatt and me to meet.

  Yes... Annapolis is the perfect place for us to get together, and I'll have to verify with him in the morning when he can get away so I can get it planned.

  I know we can make this work.

  Chapter 23

  Wyatt

  I pull up to my sister's house in downtown Edenton, North Carolina and parallel park on the street. Aubrey married a small-town attorney by the name of Chester Plum... I kid you not... and they live in a gorgeous, pre-Civil war home just a hundred yards off the Albemarle Sound, and a little over an hour away from Nags Head.

  It was mandated that I attend Sunday dinner at her house, and since Andrea and I couldn't get together this weekend because she had to work, I decided not to rock the boat and spend some time with my family.

  I've seen my parents a few times since returning to Nags Head after the slave bust went down. They only live about two miles from me so it's easy to get over to visit them. Not so easy to get over to Edenton to see Aubrey though but today's trip was warranted. My parents and my other two sisters, Lacy and Jillian, are going to be there along with Lacy and Jillian's husbands and an entire boatload of kids.

  My sisters didn't waste any time getting married. All three of them are older than I am and were fine only to aspire to be a good wife and mother. While Lacy went to college, her arts degree has gathered dust since that time, and now they spend their days shuffling kids to soccer practice and making nice, southern homes.

  I know I sound like I have little respect for that, but that's not true at all. In fact, my sisters are all beautiful and loving women. Their husbands adore them, as they should, and their kids are wonderful. They lead damn good lives, and I couldn't be happier for them
.

  While Lacy and Jillian live in the Outer Banks, I don't get to see them as often as I do my parents. It's just because work keeps me so damned busy, that if I have free time for visiting, it's usually to see my parents. I'm lucky though, as sometimes they'll be over visiting as well.

  But today is a day for a Banks family get together and Aubrey is hosting. I step through the white, picket swinging gate that borders around Aubrey and Chester's cream, bricked home. The front of the house faces the street and has a small, covered porch only big enough to walk up to the door. But along each side of the two-story home, they have sprawling, veranda-style porches filled with glossy, black-painted rocking chairs and large ceiling fans to stir the humid air. Baskets of trailing petunias hang over the railing to create a peaceful space to relax in on a warm, summer evening. I head up to the porch on the east side of the house, because the door on that side leads into the large, open-air country kitchen. I know that's where the family will be gathered.

  Just as I reach the door, three of my nephews come barreling out, one of whom clocks me in the hip and yells out, "Sorry, Uncle Wyatt," before disappearing around the side of the house.

  "Hellions, all of them," I hear from the door, turning to see Chester standing there.

  Now, as a small-town attorney, it's apparently mandatory that you wear seersucker suits, straw hats, and silk bow ties when working. Chester does this to perfection. But when the man relaxes, he really relaxes. He greets me in a pair of frayed khaki shorts with a chocolate stain on one thigh and a threadbare Boston Celtics t-shirt that has a large hole under one armpit.

  "Hey man," I say as I walk up the steps.

  "Welcome to family day," he says drily as we shake hands. "Come on in... I've got beer."

  I walk into the kitchen, and I am immediately assaulted with the smell of baked ham and sweet potatoes. A whirlwind of remaining hellions circle around me, grabbing onto my legs and hugging my waist. After all the nieces and nephews are appropriately patted on the head, all except for Jillian's littlest... Annie Lynn... who insists on staying wrapped around my lower leg, I make my way over to greet the rest of the adults.