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.”