With a Twist (Last Call #4)(79)

Crap …  time's almost up. Pulling it out of my pocket, I answer, "Circle around my block twice, babe. I'm not quite ready for you."

"Um …  Andrea?" I hear a hesitant voice ask.

"David?" I say with shock and an equal amount of dismay.

"Hey," he says jovially. "It's good to hear your voice."

I glance at my watch again, over to the book of matches in my hand …  the bowl of salad on the counter. I don't have time for this.

But I try to be as gentle as I can. "David …  hi …  um, listen …  now is really not a good time-"

"Listen …  I know you told me that you've moved on, and I respect that, but I just think if we could sit down and talk, you'd see that we could-"

"I'm sorry, David," I butt in before he can start spilling his guts to me. "But I truly don't have time. I'm expecting company any minute."

"Who is he?" he asks in a dead voice.

"Pardon?"

"When you answered the phone …  you said "babe". Unless you started batting for the other team, that means you were expecting a man to call you. So who is he?"

Anger surges through me, not because he's questioning me, but because he's cutting into my precious time to finish getting ready for Wyatt. "David …  that's not any of your business."

"Jesus Christ, Andrea. We were engaged, and you've seemed to move on awful easily from me," he sneers. 

"Just as easily as you walked out the door on me," I say quietly. "Doesn't that tell you something? This was awful easy for both of us."

David is silent …  processing my harsh words, contemplating the next best thing to say to me.

I don't give him the chance. "I'm sorry, David. But I have moved on, and there is someone else. Someone very special. And I only wish for you to find the same thing. So please …  move on with your life and be happy. That's what I'm going to do."

The doorbell rings. I look at the book of matches in my hand …  over to the bowl of salad on the counter …  down to my fully clothed body. Damn …  Wyatt didn't call me to give me a heads up.

"Andrea …  darling …  let's just meet and talk about this before you make any hasty decision-"

I press the disconnect button on my phone and toss it onto the counter …  David absolutely forgotten. Instead, I concentrate on my pulse, which has sped up knowing that Wyatt is on the other side of my front door.

There's no time to light the candles or strip down. I do spare three seconds to do an excited, happy jig-right in place-then I run to the front door.

I pull it open, and right there …  standing before me …  the only truly important thing in my life right now. He takes one step in and I'm in his arms, his mouth is on mine. We kiss as if starved. I pull on him …  urging him closer to me. I'd immerse him inside of me if I could.

When Wyatt pulls back, my lips tingling from his onslaught, he looks down at me and says, "Hey baby. I missed you."

"God, I missed you too," I tell him, and then push my face into his chest for a hug.

One of his hands comes to the back of my head and his lips press into my hair. "I have something important to talk to you about. But first …  and I'm sorry, baby …  but I need to fuck you. It's all I've been thinking about for the last two weeks."

That's all I needed to hear, and I love how we clearly have the same priority in mind. My hands start working at his belt but I glance up at him briefly. "I have something important to talk to you about too, but it can wait until after we have sex."

His mouth is on mine again, and he's pulling at my clothes.

"Door," I manage to gasp and he kicks his foot back, slamming it shut and sparing the neighbors.





We've gone from fully naked, fully writhing, and fully moaning to semi-dressed and eating lasagna on my couch. The candles never got lit and the salad was ignored. The wine, although a nice touch, was also ignored in favor of two bottles of ice-cold water to quench the thirst we had worked up.

Sighing in contentment because my lust for Wyatt has been satisfied-for now-and my belly is almost filled, I look at him sitting on one end of the couch. He's only wearing his jeans, halfway zipped up, with his legs stretched out and bare feet resting on my coffee table. I chose to sit at the other end, wearing only my t-shirt and underwear, sitting cross-legged and facing him.

"This is really good, baby," he says before stuffing another bite of cheesy mess in his face.

"It did turn out good, didn't it?" I respond, staring overly long at the start of his happy trail peeking out of his unzipped jeans.