Half his mouth lifted in that smile I was officially addicted to. “Tell me if you want me to. At any time. Tell me, okay?”
I nodded.
“When’s the last time you were tested?”
His question shook me awake from the lustful coma I’d slipped into. Tested. Tested for what? Oh, god, that.
“The last time I was with someone,” I told him honestly. “It’s been a really long time.” A really, really long time.
His question effectively doused cold water on my hormones and I was able to cock an eyebrow, demanding an answer to the same question from him. “You?”
“Same,” he answered on a mumble. His hands grabbed the back of my thighs and hitched them around his waist. I let out a yelp and clutched his shoulders as he settled me on the counter. “I’m clean.”
“Me too,” I whispered as his body moved into my core, making my eyelids flutter closed.
His hand wrapped around the back of my neck and then his fingertips dipped into my hair, pulling my head back to look at him. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Kaya. A very long time. But if you need me to stop. If you’re not ready… tell me. I can wait.”
There was this defiant witch inside of me that had to know more. I wanted this too. And maybe, if I was honest with myself, I could admit that I’d wanted it for way longer. But I couldn’t let him get away with… getting his way. I was too used to fighting him to give him what he wanted without at least a small argument. “But how long will you wait?”
He didn’t seem amused by my question. He leaned forward, forcing me to tip back on my elbows. His chest brushed mine. His tattoos winked at me, inviting me to touch them, taste them… suck on them until I’d left my mark. “A lot longer than you’ll make me.”
My mouth dropped open. “What does that mean?”
He grinned. No half smile or wicked smirk. This was a full on, blinding, both-sides-of-his mouth smile. “It means, we can play this game till the end of time and two things will remain true. One, you want me. You’ve wanted me for a long time. You want this to happen. And I’m very willing to oblige you. And two? I want you. I’ve wanted you for a very long time. I’ve wanted you for so long, you’re the only thing I can remember wanting. I want you and I’m willing to wait as long as it takes to have you. You get me? We can do this cat and mouse thing for however long you need to do it, but I know both of us are ready to play a different kind of game.”
His head dropped so he could kiss and suck his way over my collarbone. I closed my eyes and tried to catch the spinning thoughts in my head, to make sense of them.
“Kaya,” Wyatt taunted, his voice low and growly. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” I whispered without thinking. No more fighting. He was right. We both wanted this.
We both couldn’t stand not having it for another second.
His mouth found mine again, followed by a desperate collision of our bodies, both of us needing to taste each other more than we needed air. He wasn’t gentle this time and I wasn’t either.
We consumed each other, grabbing, clawing, demanding more and more and more. He tore my tank off, exposing me in a way I hadn’t been for so long. I had a second’s hesitation, of fear and insecurity, while he pulled back to stare at my nearly naked torso.
“Goddamn,” he whispered reverently, erasing whatever self-esteem issue I was wrestling with. “I knew they would be beautiful, but fuck, Kaya. They’re magnificent.”
I let out a giddy laugh at his assessment of my breasts. “You’re ridiculous.”
His mouth descended on my left nipple as if he couldn’t stand waiting for another second. “You’re delicious,” he countered, his tongue flicking over the right spot.
He pulled my bra cup down, so he could taste my bare flesh. We moaned together. My fingers fumbled to unclasp the damn thing as quickly as possible. As soon as it went slack in his hands, he tore the thing from my body, covering my breasts with his gigantic hands almost immediately.
I looked down at his tan skin against the milky white of mine, tattoos snaking over his hands, wrapping around his fingers and I nearly orgasmed on the spot. Wyatt’s body was a work of art. From the gauges in his ears to the colored ink covering all his exposed skin, he wore his self-expression as skin, daring anyone that could see him to know him.
But did anybody know him?
Jo thought he was fragile. Dillon and Vera thought he was invincible. Killian treated him like a little brother.
All of these titles and perceptions were wrong. All of them.
He wasn’t fragile; he was stupidly arrogant, open, and ready to face whatever this world threw at him.
He wasn’t invincible. He was vulnerable when the moment called for it. Gentle when I needed him to be. Willing to admit his mistakes and ask for help.
And he wasn’t little anywhere. Or in anything. He was imposing and dominating and… overwhelming.
They didn’t know him. I wasn’t even sure I knew him.
Not completely anyway. And even though the ghosts of my past whispered that now was the time to run, before I got too invested, before he saw too much of me, I couldn’t.
Not now. Maybe not ever.
Wyatt had sunk beneath my skin and made a bed in the secret places of me that I’d desperately tried to hide from him. He hadn’t been willing to wait or sit back. He hadn’t even asked for permission. He’d… taken. And now I was afraid he’d never give back.
While he paid my breasts special attention, I became greedy to explore him. I reached for his belt, bringing his pelvis to my core again. He pressed against me and for a moment my attention was derailed. My eyelids slammed shut at his sharp intake of air.
“Fuck,” he murmured.
“More,” I gasped at the same time.
My fingers fumbled, desperate to unbuckle his belt, to get rid of these pants that were so irritatingly in the way.
I felt him smile against my skin. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, his lips hot and soft against my skin. “Let’s go a little slower, yeah? I’ve been waiting long enough, I think I deserve to enjoy this.”
Enjoy this?
Enjoy me?
Oh God.
Still, I couldn’t help myself. There had always been a push and pull between us, a constant tug of war that neither of us could let go of. “You deserve to enjoy this? That seems a little entitled.”
He pushed my body back on the counter, pressing down fully on top of me, pressing our most intimate parts closer together. His fingers entwined with mine, spreading my arms wide so I felt completely exposed to him.
“I’ve earned it, chef.” His head dipped so he could nip at the curve of my jaw. “I want you slow, Kaya. I want to savor this. Make it last as long as possible. Make you last as long as possible. And I’m going to savor every single second.”
Before I could argue, he started trailing kisses down my throat, over my breasts, down my bare stomach until my pants barred him from going further.
He raised his torso enough to flick open the button fly of my linen pants. His fingers hooked inside the waistband of my panties and with one firm tug, he removed both items of clothing.
My legs kicked out at his surprise attack, but he caught my ankles before I flailed too wildly. With complete confidence—the same way he did everything—he rested my feet on the cool counter, my knees bent, my sex exposed to him in a way that made my breath hitch with nerves.
I self-consciously covered my breasts with my arms, desperate for some modicum of control. Very suddenly I felt upended, turned inside out. Wyatt had managed to take the lead somehow and I was left struggling to catch my breath trailing after his reckless need.
My heart hammered against my breastbone and my skin prickled with both anticipation and anxieties. I should be thinking about what would happen after tonight, about how we would ever come back from this moment, how we could ever work together again… or look at each other again… or—
His mouth touched the most intimate part of me and my train
of thought fizzled beneath a blazing sizzle of desire. He kissed me there like he kissed my mouth, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of me, the taste of me.
He used his tongue, his teeth, and his fingers the way I had watched him cook for all these years, with absolute certainty and graceful deftness. My back arched off the cold counter as my hands searched for something to grasp onto.
The sensation was too much—too sharp, too real, too… intense. “Wyatt,” I panted, not knowing if I wanted him to stop or keep going. “Oh God, Wyatt.”
He lifted his head to meet my eyes. His were dark pools of desire. His finger slid into me, sending me closer to oblivion. “Don’t fight me on this, Kaya,” he demanded. Another finger joined the first. “Not on this.” His mouth closed around me once more, sending me over the edge into an abyss of light and tensed muscles and the most delicious feeling of my life.
My body contracted around him, trapping his hand within me as my thighs squeezed his head unwilling to let him go until I absolutely had to.
He lifted his gaze to meet mine, his expression was lazy satisfaction that nearly sent me over the edge once again. Slowly, reluctantly, he slid his fingers out of me and I shivered, still so sensitive.
I stared up at him, expecting him to move on to the next course. I waited for him to undo his belt or rip his pants off superman style or something. But instead, he leaned over me, his hands resting on either side of my head. He made a contented sound in the back of his throat and belatedly I realized that was all he planned to do tonight.
Huh?
Didn’t he want to…?
Taking things into my own hands, I locked my legs around his waist and invited him forward. My cheeks were already flushed. Otherwise, they would have blushed tomato red at the demand I forced out. “We can’t be finished yet. We’re just getting started.”
Half his mouth lifted in that crooked grin I was starting to love. “I don’t have a condom,” he explained.
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him incredulously. “What? Did you check your wallet?”
He dropped his head, laughing at my question. When he looked at me again, it was from underneath his lashes. His eyes still hadn’t lost their electricity or their need. A tremor rocked through me again. I could feel him still, his hard length pressed against me, begging for attention, demanding we finish what we started.
“Yeah, you know I’ve never really carried those around with me. I figure if I want something that bad, I can wait until we’ve made it back to my place.” The planes of his cheeks turned a pale pink. “And I can honestly say until tonight, I have always been fine with waiting.”
“Now what are we going to do?” I growled. Clearly this was his fault. And fine, I’d already had a lovely orgasm, but I wanted another one, damn it!
He dropped his head, kissing the hollow of my throat, using his tongue and teeth and seductive witchcraft. “We’re going to go out on a date.”
That sobered my sex-drunk brain. “What?”
Lifting his head again, he smiled and said, “A date, Kaya. You are familiar with the activity?” And because he was Wyatt, he said, “It’s that thing you do when two people really like each other. The guy picks the girl up. You go to a mutually enjoyable public place. There are beverages involved. Sometimes food. Sometimes dancing. Am I ringing any bells?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s cute, smartass. But we can’t do that.”
“We can’t do what?”
“Go on a date.”
“Why not?”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I sat up fully, forcing him to step back. I needed clothes on if he was going to challenge me. “Because you’re my boss. And we work together.” Seeing the stern set of his jaw, I knew I hadn’t picked an argument that bothered him yet. “Also, I’m your sous chef. You can take the night off. Or I can take the night off. But we cannot take the night off together. Who would run the kitchen?”
The bottom half of his jaw slid back and forth as I finally hit a note that rung problematic. “Huh…”
Finishing clasping my bra, I hid my victorious smile behind my chef coat as I slid it on. “It doesn’t work, Wyatt.”
“Lunch.”
I blinked up at him. “What?”
“We already knew this relationship would be unconventional… our dates are going to have to be too.”
Wait, did he say… relationship?
“You’re not serious.”
He blinked at me. “About what?”
Son of a bitch. Where the hell were my panties?
“Don’t you think we’re going a little fast? I mean, yesterday we hated each other and—”
“I’ve never hated you.”
“And we’re going in separate directions and we work all the time. A relationship seems extreme in light of everything.”
He studied me for a few long moments, seeming to take my measure, deciding something about me that felt like it needed my permission. “What direction are you going in, Kaya, that’s different than mine?”
Oh, no. Abort! Abort! This wasn’t a conversation Wyatt and I could have in the middle of the night after he’d feasted on my body. I needed cold space before I admitted my plans to him. I needed distance and a clear head and for my body not to feel like it had just been worshiped.
Panties?! Hello, panties??? Where for art thou, panties?
Seeing my obvious distress, he reached down and handed me a bundle of pants and underwear and one of my discarded shoes. I slid off the counter and started yanking everything on.
“It’s late,” I observed in an even voice. Braving his gaze when all I wanted to do was slink away into the dead of night and never resurface again, I said, “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
I stretched up on my tiptoes and kissed the feather tattoo on his neck. “When I get in tomorrow morning? We can figure out the details.” Panic had started welling up inside me like an overboiling pot. I needed space to figure out what happened. I needed air to catch my breath.
I needed… sleep.
“Details?” He kept repeating my words as if they didn’t make sense to him. “Is this the kind of relationship that has details?”
My eyes squinted shut and I turned away from him, so he couldn’t see my regretful expression. I was afraid he would misread it. Or maybe I was misreading it.
What did I regret? What we did?
No… not really. Not yet.
Pulling away from him and treating him like this?
Maybe.
“There are logistics, Wyatt. We can’t… we can’t… We work together. This could get messy.”
If I let it go on. If I didn’t figure out how to stop it.
His fingers reached out and gently wrapped around mine. He barely applied any pressure, but he didn’t need to. The feel of him was enough to pull me back into the sanctuary of his body.
His other hand wrapped around my waist and he dropped his face to the curve of my neck, my back pressed to his chest. I flinched when he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Okay, Swift. Go home. I’ll clean up here.”
He wasn’t fragile, I reminded myself. Jo was wrong about him.
I knew him.
He was the strongest person I knew.
“Thanks, Wyatt,” I told him, my voice shaking with emotion, fear, and regret.
“See you tomorrow?”
I nodded, unable to say the words. I was the fragile one. It was me that was breakable.
He let me go. I fled the building, too much of a chicken to look back at him.
How had something that amazing caused me to run away again? I had never experienced anything like that before. Nolan didn’t even have the ability to make a woman feel like that. I was positive ninety-nine percent of the male population couldn’t make a girl feel that way.
So why was I still running?
Why was I still trying to avoid this thing that could be so good?
The qu
estion plagued me all the way home. It continued to haunt me all the way through my hot shower, stripping the joy of my shower beer and the satisfied feeling of having kicked major culinary ass today. It stayed with me as I climbed into bed, tossing and turning with no chance of falling asleep. And the doubt sat on my left shoulder the next morning, whispering lies and insecurities and all those things I’d thought I’d left behind in Hamilton all those years ago as I tapped out a cowardly text to Wyatt an hour before I was supposed to be at work.
I feel like crap. I think I’m getting the flu. Sorry, I won’t make it in today.
He’d sent back a thumb’s up emoji, making me feel even more like crap.
See you Monday sat on my phone for the remainder of the day, but I never found the courage to send it. It was official, the same reasons that had sent me running from Hamilton, had now possessed my feet again.
Wyatt isn’t Nolan, I told myself.
He’s still trouble, my brittle heart whispered back.
He’s still going to hurt you, my brain agreed. You won’t be enough for him either.
I was too tired to argue with my head or my heart. Besides, I didn’t know what the point was. They were both right.
Seventeen
“Kay-bug,” my dad exclaimed as he pulled me into a hug. “I’m so glad you were able to get tonight off.” My dad, Eric Swift, was the soon to be retired CEO of Haymill Chicken. He was ridiculously smart, ambitious, and ruthless at work. At home, he let my mom run the show and enjoyed being shuffled back and forth wherever she told him to go.
My mom, Dana, our household CEO, spent her days as a part-time recruiter for the local business bureau. She liked her job because it was flexible and a gateway to all the town drama she could stomach.
“I wanted to spend time with you guys,” I told him. “I never get to see you.”
“That’s because you’re trying to work yourself to death,” he grumbled, reluctantly handing me off to my mother.
“Hi, Mama.” I smiled at her.
She took my face in her hands and kissed my forehead. “More beautiful than ever.”
Her words soothed an open wound in my chest and I relaxed a little, truly happy to see them. She pulled me into a firm hug, further calming the gaping chasm that had bothered me all day.
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 82
