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

She caressed him, slowly, methodically, until he was fully erect, and because she couldn’t help herself, Regan gently wriggled her legs free from his. Wyatt made it easy; with a groan he flopped onto his back, murmuring something she couldn’t understand. But he didn’t wake up.

She licked her lips, got to her knees, and stared at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His boxers strained against his erection—the sight hypnotized her. Her breaths came hard and fast, and the friction between her legs was getting harder to ignore. She whimpered, gyrating her hips slightly in an effort to alleviate the pressure as a wicked thought struck. A wicked, naughty, very un-Regan-like thought.

She glanced over her shoulder—which was ridiculous; there was no one here except Wyatt. Then, with slow, precise movements, she gently tugged down his boxers, and his cock sprang free.

Holy. Hell.

She could now confirm, unequivocally, that every single inch of him was beautiful. Like Michelangelo’s David kind of beautiful. She giggled. But bigger. Much, much bigger.

Regan rested her butt on her heels and spread her legs slightly. She fingered the waistband of her pajama bottoms as another wave of heat hit her core. Those un-Regan-like thoughts circled hard, and she bit her lip.

He was still asleep. He wouldn’t know.

She eased back, using her left hand to help lever her body, and her right inched downward, deep between her legs and straight to the swollen flesh between them. Slowly she exhaled, her deft fingers sliding across slick skin. Slowly she massaged her clitoris, eyes on the man in front of her. She imagined it was his hands on her. His fingers inside her. His body pressed into hers.

The thought emboldened her. Heat suffused her skin in another wave that took her breath.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. She squeezed her eyes shut, ignored the voice in her head, and found a rhythm that worked. Her fingers coaxed and massaged, while her hips slowly gyrated, adding to the friction between her legs.

Long ragged breaths escaped from between her lips, and she bit down hard when she would have groaned out loud. Deep inside, that familiar pull began in earnest, and her fingers pressed into her flesh, rubbing, massaging feverishly as it continued to build.

Her head rocked forward, her eyes flew open and…shit…

Dark eyes stared down at her.

“Don’t fucking stop.” His voice was low and hoarse. He made no effort to hide his desire or the pleasure he took in what she was doing. “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and one hell of a wake-up.”

Regan was breathing heavily, and slowly withdrew her hand from between her legs.

“Babe, I told you not to stop.” His expression was fierce.

She tilted her hips, acting totally on instinct, and pulled her pajama bottoms all the way down. She tossed them to the floor and sat back on her butt so that she was facing Wyatt. He physically jerked when she spread her legs, leaving her fully exposed to him.

“Shit,” he muttered, sitting up higher so that he could see better.

Never had Regan felt such power. Felt so full of her feminine self. She reached down once more, her clitoris full and aching, her body in need of release. She was wicked. Wanton. She smiled and spread her lips, taking pleasure in the sound he made as she did so.

It didn’t take long. Not with Wyatt watching her like he was starving. The muscles in his neck stood out, attesting to how close he was to losing control. When she began to whimper, when her orgasm bloomed hard and heavy, he inched forward, like a predator after prey. Never taking his eyes from her.

His hand joined hers, big, hard, and warm, and he held her as she came. He cradled her against his chest, as her body shuddered with aftershocks. And kissed the top of her head when it was over.

For the longest time, the only thing Regan heard was her frantic breathing and the beat of her heart echoing inside her head. Slowly, two hands crept up along her cheeks, and she could do nothing but look up.

A slow, wicked grin spread across Wyatt’s face. “Good morning.”

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. She cleared her throat. “Good morning. When did you…”

He was shaking his head. “No. That conversation is for later. Right now, we need to take care of business. Because as much as this has been a good morning so far, I’m thinking we can do better.” He dropped his head and nuzzled just below her ear, and delicious shivers raced across her skin. “I know I can.” He tugged on her earlobe. “I’m betting you can too.”

Wyatt tucked a long strand of hair behind that ear and nibbled his

way back to her mouth, taking her in a hot, hard kiss that made her head spin. When he broke it off, all that heat was back, faster, hotter, and more urgent.

“What say we get rid of this top,” he said, that wicked grin still in place. “I think they’re missing the bottoms.” His large hands slid down her shoulders and caressed her breasts through the thin cotton before reaching for the edge and pulling it over her head.

This was it. They were both naked. In her bed. About to make love.

God, she’d touched herself in front of him. Suddenly, a host of overwhelming thoughts crowded her head, and she blinked rapidly, unsure, confused, and so turned on, it was killing her. Was she doing the right thing? Would sex make things complicated?