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“Nothing.” She shook her head and shrugged. Should she be candid? Or coy. “Why did you ask me out?” Well hell, there you go. Candid it was.
“That’s an easy question. There’s something between us. I can feel it, and I’m pretty sure you can to. You’re one hell of a woman, and I want to know you.” Wyatt didn’t hesitate. “Sometimes things can be that simple. Don’t you think?”
Regan knew nothing was that simple where Wyatt Blackwell was concerned. At least not in her world. And yet she was willing to look past that because he’d surprised her. And that meant something. When was the last time someone had done that? Surprised her?
“Tell me something else you’re good at.” Regan decided coy would be easier than candid and changed the subject.
Wyatt gave her a look, and she knew he knew exactly what she’d just done. “Well, I can do one hell of a belly flop off the boathouse dock into the lake.”
“That’s impressive.”
He nodded. “Right? I can also touch my nose with my tongue.” He held his hand up. “I know what you’re going to say, it’s weird.” He flashed a grin that kick-started those damn zigs and zags again. “But the girls always seemed to like it.”
I bet.
Regan cleared her throat and tried to banish the images in her brain. Images of his tongue…his hands and mouth…and lots of naked flesh.
“Let me see.” Wyatt sat back in the booth. “I’m pretty sure I hold the record for most time-outs in the focus chair.”
Regan cracked up at that. “Oh my God. The focus chair. That was—”
“Mrs. Baird’s kindergarten class. That woman must have sent me to the focus chair at least once a day. She even gave me a plaque when I”—Wyatt air quoted with his fingers—“‘graduated to grade one’ and wished me well. She told me I was the cutest kid she’d ever had the pleasure of teaching, but that I would have to learn charm doesn’t always win the day. Hard work does.”
Regan tried to keep a straight face but feared she was failing miserably. “She might have something there.”
“She was wrong.” Wyatt got to his feet and he
ld out his hand.
“She was?” Regan slowly got to her feet and, after a moment’s hesitation, put her hand in his. Her breaths were coming more quickly, and it would be a small miracle for Wyatt not to hear the fast-beating heart responsible for the state of her lungs.
“Totally wrong.” Wyatt pulled her with him until the dim lighting over the booth they’d been sitting at faded, and they were alone in the dark. His warm breath ruffled the top of her head, and she shivered. Not because she was cold, but because she was hot as hell and suddenly throbbing in places that hadn’t throbbed in ages.
“Two years!” Carly’s voice shot through her head, and she shuddered.
“Hard work wins the day, that’s true. But charm makes it a hell of a lot easier to get there.” Wyatt’s arms slipped around her, and he pulled her closer. Music erupted into the silence, a slow, sensual song of love and lust. She realized it came from his phone, left on the table of their booth, and when his hands settled at the small of her back, she closed her eyes and leaned into him.
“This is another thing I do real well.”
“Dance?” she replied breathlessly. They’d gone this round once before, but prom night was nothing compared to the heat between them now.
His lips were by her ear, and her mouth went dry. “Among other things.”
They began to move slowly, their bodies melted into each other. Her head fit just under his chin, and she rested her cheek against his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, hyper aware that every inch of his hard body was pressed against every single part of hers.
They didn’t speak, because they didn’t have to. The music was haunting, a melody heavy on minor chords that brought a lump to her throat. Her chest was tight, and the want that bloomed there took her breath away. The want for human contact. The want for a connection. The want for more.
Wyatt’s hand slid along her jaw and settled at the back of her head, his long fingers buried in her hair. Gently, he tugged until she was forced to look up at him. And it was then that all that want inside her tumbled over. It became something bigger and bolder. Something she couldn’t deny. Something she didn’t want to deny.
Regan lifted her face, and Wyatt met her halfway. He groaned—or maybe it was her—either way it didn’t matter, because finally, she was getting some of what she’d been wanting for days now.
The kiss started out slow and sensual. A taste of a tongue. A nip of teeth. Hot lips searching and finding pleasure spots. Warm breath. Hard bodies. And hands that knew exactly where to caress.
It was one hell of a first kiss, and Wyatt didn’t stop until her head spun. Until she was weak in the knees and her lady parts shouted for more. Until she gasped and tore her mouth from his, chest heaving, heart racing.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was unsteady, and she knew he was as affected as she was.
“Nothing,” she managed to say, inhaling deeply because she thought she just might faint. Imagine that. Fainting from the effects of a Wyatt Blackwell kiss.
