Andrea purrs low in her throat over my proclamation. “Well… if we’re being truthful… the only person I wanted to affect with my dancing was you. You just seemed… so far removed. Totally into your character, which wasn’t really all that interested in the girls there.”
“I was totally playacting,” I tell her. “And speaking of affecting with your dancing, I never asked… but where in the fuck did you learn to dance like that? Does the FBI have a course on it or something?”
Andrea giggles… the best sound ever. “Actually… I have some personal experience with it.”
I go absolutely still… process what she just said, and then flip to my back so I can reach over to turn on the beside lamp. Turning back to her, I lean over and take in the shy smile on her face.
“You danced… stripped… before?”
She nods. “College and law school. It was the only way I could afford it.”
I study her face. No embarrassment… no battered ego. In fact, she stares at me with clear eyes and waits for me to make comment.
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” I tell her truthfully. “I hate you had to do that, but I also admire you for doing whatever it took to accomplish your goals.”
“I don’t regret it,” she says. “It’s part of my past and while I was never comfortable with it, it really helped to build me into what I am today.”
“Strength,” I say as I bend down to kiss her softly on the lips.
“Determination,” I say as I kiss her jaw.
“Fearlessness,” I murmur, grazing my lips along her neck.
“You’re fucking amazing,” I tell her as I pull back.
She blinks repeatedly, and then her brows furrow inward. Her bottom lip is pulled in between her teeth, and I know something is pressing on her mind.
I wait for it.
“It’s weird… I’ve been here with you less than three days, and you see those things about me, and yet… if I had to ask what I think some of my most important characteristics are… that’s what I’d say about myself.”
I give a nod of understanding, flip back over to turn out the light, and then gather her in my arms. When she’s got her head to my chest and our legs are intertwined, my hand rubbing her lower back, I tell her, “I’ve had more than three days with you, Andrea. I knew you were all three of those things the minute you took on that undercover job. It was validated when you stepped onto that stage, and completely hoodwinked a suspected slave trader. If it weren’t for you… none of that would have gone down the way it did. Like I said… you’re pretty fucking amazing.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her body relax into mine. Her own fingers play across the skin on my stomach.
I start to get drowsy, but then she says my name softly.
“Wyatt?”
“Yeah?”
“I think you’re pretty fucking amazing too.”
Chapter 20
Andrea
I wake up before Wyatt again and so the pattern has been set. I’m a morning person, whereas he is definitely not. I think about my attempt at naked pancakes and quickly put that thought right back out of my head. We had gone out to the grocery store yesterday and stocked up with a variety of staples. I’m thinking it’s going to be naked bagels instead, but I’ll wait a bit before I wake him up. I’m sure he’s pretty worn out after our impromptu bout of sex we had followed by some pretty awesome pillow talk.
I loved his reaction about me dancing. I loved how it pained him that I had to stoop to that, but I was also grateful for how he admired me. It’s sort of how I view myself, and while a lot of people could never understand baring your body for money, I guess the only one I really need to answer to is myself. I’ve never had a problem looking at myself in the mirror since that time in my past, and knowing that Wyatt still respects me is just icing on the cake.
Rolling out of bed, I quietly slip on my underwear, a pair of shorts, and a t-shirt. Grabbing my phone off the dresser, I head out to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee. After it’s brewed, I pour a cup, doctor it up with an obscene amount of cream and sugar—Wyatt’s characterization, not mine—and head out to the back deck.
As always, the beauty of the Atlantic always catches me by surprise. I’d never been to the beach growing up, and got my first look at the Atlantic while in undergrad when a bunch of friends and me road tripped to Virginia Beach one weekend. I’ve since seen the Pacific while on an assignment with the FBI, and the Gulf of Mexico, but for some reason… the Atlantic is what calls to me. I’m not sure if it’s the blue-green waters, the low-breaking waves that make the best sound to sleep to, or the way the sun slowly emerges from the horizon each morning. I just know it resonates with me, and I eagerly make my way down the steps of Wyatt’s back deck down to the cool sand below.
The sun’s edge hasn’t even made appearance yet, and the sky is tinged gray. I walk a few feet away from the steps and sink slowly down into the soft sand so as not to spill my coffee, only to have a small shell poke me in the butt. After wedging my mug into the sand, I lean over, remove the offender, and sink back down, burying my toes in the coolness that the evening has brought to the sand. I know by midday, it will be blistering hot.
While I wait on the sunrise to make its appearance, I turn on my phone. I need to call Kyle and check in with him, but it’s far too early in Wyoming and he’d never answer. I had successfully avoided my phone all day yesterday and hadn’t even brought it out with us to Hunter’s bar last night.