You Drive Me Crazy (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake 2)

“Good,” Wyatt murmured, head dipping, mouth finding the racing pulse at the base of her neck. “Because I’m just getting started.”

His tongue flicked out, and he licked her skin, a growl low in his throat that reminded her of an animal. But this thing between them had ramped up something fierce, and it felt animalistic. Primal. It was a reaction to touch and taste. To smell and, yes, sound. This attraction was stripped down to the basic need of a man and woman who desired each other. And everything about it made Regan feel wild and free.

She moved slightly, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. She was ready to throw away all her inhibitions. In this moment, she didn’t give a crap about them. She’d worry about it in the morning.

Right now, she wanted Wyatt Blackwell so badly, her knees shook, and as she tore at his buttons, her fingers did as well. She had them almost all undone when his hand grasped hers and he held her still.

“Regan.” She saw the desire in his face because he made no effort to hide it. He exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m not going to lie. I’ve been thinking about getting you naked for days now. But shit, I hadn’t planned on doing it here. I just…” He ran a hand through the hair at his nape. “Are you sure about this?”

Regan held his gaze for several moments, reveling in the power that thrummed through her body. She’d brought him to the edge, and she licked her lips in anticipation. This was gonna be so damn good.

“I want you,” she said slowly, the rasp in her voice much more pronounced. She splayed her hands against his naked chest and licked one of his nipples, smiling when she heard him gasp. “Right. Now.”

That was all it took. One second he was staring down at her, a questioning look in his eyes. The next, his hands were all over her, followed by his mouth. He lips trailed fire down her throat and within seconds, her blouse hung open. He didn’t stop and opened hotly over her breast, his mouth and tongue teasing until her nipple hardened painfully.

He made a noise—a primitive sort of thing that had her blood singing—and with one deft movement, he undid her bra, giving him access to her soft flesh.

“Christ, you’re beautiful.” Wyatt’s breath was hot on her skin, and his wet mouth closed over her nipple, immediately setting off a firestorm of desire. She swelled beneath his tongue and offered herself to him with an abandon that maybe, under different circumstances, would have made her pause. Made her think that maybe she’d taken leave of her senses. But right now, with his hands and mouth wreaking havoc with her body, she didn’t give it a second thought.

Regan’s head dropped back, and she whimpered when he began to suckle. Each pull and thrust of his tongue against her flesh sent bolts of need straight through her body. It settled between her legs, and she gyrated against him, biting her tongue to stop the groan that sat in her throat, when his free hand reached back and cupped her butt, pulling her in even closer.

His erection was unmistakable, and as he nibbled along her jaw and teased the corners of her mouth, she pushed against him, her only thought to have him buried deep inside her.

His eyes darkened as he slowly looked her up and down, and never had Regan felt so powerful than she did in this moment.

“I gotta tell you, Regan. This right here is a picture I’m going to carry in my head until the day I die.” His teeth flashed white in the gloom, a wicked curl to his mouth that pulled at her very core.

His hands found their way to her hips and slid down her thighs before curving around back, long fingers splayed possessively. He dipped his head once more and closed his mouth over her nipple, his fingers reaching for the edge of her skirt.

His tongue was relentless, his hands firm and sure, and Regan had no idea how long her cell phone rang until the Foo Fighters pierced the haze that clouded her head.

In an instant, desire turned to dread, and she pushed at Wyatt, chest heaving, mind whirling.

“Hey,” he said roughly. “Am I going too fast?”

“No,” she managed to say as she grabbed the edge of her blouse. “I just…” She glanced at the table. “I have to get that.” Her voice trembled, and she exhaled raggedly.

Wyatt didn’t say a word but nodded slowly as she straightened her clothes and jogged to the table. Her cell had stopped, but as she neared the booth, it started ringing again. Foo Fighters. The Bergens’ ringtone.

“Yes.” With shaking fingers, she did up her blouse, listening intently as Patrick’s mother began talking in rapid-fire sentences.

Her heart sank. It sank all the way to her toes and left her feeling sad, frustrated, and so damn helpless.

“I’m coming. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She glanced at Wyatt. “I’m in the city, actually. I won’t be long.”

Regan stared at her cell for a few seconds and then inhaled, trying to calm her nerves. She needed to get her shit together. Not just for herself, but for Patrick and his family.

“I need to go to the hospital.”

Wyatt didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

“Children’s Hospital. It’s on…dammit.” She ran a hand over her temple. “I can’t think. Can’t remember the name of the street, but we can google the directions.”

“I know where it is.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“After the accident with my mother, I was laid up there for nearly two months.”