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.