"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.