Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  I sat up, pushing my body into his, closing what little space remained between us. “I am not,” I argued, lit up by his challenge. “I just think you’re moving too fast.”

  “Yeah, of course you do. Because you’re chicken.”

  Grabbing his nipple, I twisted quickly, causing him to jump back and fend me off. “Now you’re violent! I’m rethinking this entire relationship.”

  I ignored the way my heart kicked at the word relationship and my stomach flipped with fear. I couldn’t let him be right about me. I couldn’t run from this good, beautiful, honest thing between us because I’d been hurt in my past.

  “Now who’s chicken?” I taunted, reaching for his other nipple. He laughed at my efforts. “I’m in it, Shaw. You want long term. You got it. I can out-relationship you any day of the week.”

  He shook his head at the tug-of-war that never ended between us. “Good.” He held out his hand and I took it, thinking he was going to be sweet and gentle. But then he grabbed my wrist, playfully yanked me out of my seat and tossed me over his shoulder.

  I screamed in surprise. “Put me down!”

  “I intend to,” he promised darkly.

  “Where are we going?” I demanded as he ran through his house bouncing me on his shoulder the entire way. The top of my dress was hanging down but did little to cover my breasts. I grabbed the back of his jeans and pressed my upper body to him, holding on for dear life.

  We burst through a door and from my upside-down position, I realized it was his bedroom. Hunter green shades hung over a giant picture window that looked out past a deck to a glorious view of the bluffs. His furniture was all rich browns and soft tans, mingling together to make a masculine but tasteful space.

  He tossed me on his bed and I witnessed his huge, sleigh bed first hand. King size. Could he be more perfect?

  He hovered over me. “You’re in this, Kaya? No prisoners?”

  I smiled up at him. Wondering if he treasured my smiles as much as I cherished his. “No prisoners, Wyatt. You and me. For better or worse or whatever. It’s you and me.”

  And there it was. His smile to end all smiles before it. He leaned over me and I scooted back. He followed quickly, our bodies parallel but not yet touching.

  “I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say that.”

  “I’ve been wanting to say it.” And I realized I had.

  “I’ve been waiting for this too.” His eyes darkened.

  “For what?”

  “To have you, Kaya. To have all of you.”

  Twenty

  His hands moved up my thighs, dragging over my legs. His thumbs brushed over my sex and I shivered in anticipation for what was to come.

  “Finally,” I rasped.

  His eyes flashed with lightning. “You’ve wanted me too?”

  I nodded while my belly pooled with heat. There was something so indescribably sexy about Wyatt hovering over me. His skin was so perfectly decorated in colored ink, his cut biceps on full display as he supported his weight.

  Everything about him interested me. He was breathtaking and overwhelming and mine.

  My body jerked at the word in my head. Mine. He was mine. And I was his. Even before we stripped naked and learned every inch of each other’s bodies, he had already emotionally committed to me. There was no denying the taut cord of connection between us.

  And I knew I had already committed to him too. Even if we weren’t about to have sex right now, I had rammed head first into the chemistry that had been simmering between us for years. And now I could give myself over to Wyatt in the best way possible.

  “I’ve been waiting longer,” he assured me, finding something to argue about even in this.

  I smiled at him. “I know.”

  His laugh was a rush of surprised breath. He arched one of his strong eyebrows. “You’re letting me win?”

  Trailing my fingers over his chest, running them up his neck and hooking them behind his head, I savored the spikey shaved part of his head. “Only because I want something more than winning right now.”

  “Say it then.”

  “You, Wyatt,” I whispered, bowing my back to draw his eyes to my breasts. “I want you.”

  His heated glance at my chest was carnal and greedy. Our mouths met together in the space between us, hungry and desperate and adoring all at once. We didn’t draw anything out though. We knew what we wanted and there was no stopping us this time.

  His hand slid down my waist, over the top of my thighs to palm me. He applied the most delicious pressure until I was gasping against his mouth and trying to wiggle out of my stupidly voluminous dress.

  He laughed at my efforts, hooking his thumbs into the sides and divesting me of the obnoxious thing. My underwear went with them because… that was how he did things. Finally, I was laid bare before him, completely stripped of my clothes and my doubts and the defenses I’d carried around for way too long.

  His gaze moved over me slowly, drinking in every inch of my body. I wanted to cover myself. I wanted to turn off the daylight that poured through his too-big window. I wanted to start over in three months after I’d made that Pure Barre class a priority.

  I knew he was attracted to me. I knew he wanted sex. But this was too much. God, what had I been thinking.

  Staring up at the ceiling to spare myself embarrassment, I cursed my insecurities. Why did being a girl have to be so hard? Why was I so confident in the kitchen and fragile everywhere else in life?

  At least all my grooming was up to date. That would have made enjoying this intimacy we were sharing an utter catastrophe. I preferred to be practically hairless, except for my arms, from the neck down. I knew all the important places were in tip-top shape. But I was also firmly in the “curvy” category when it came to body shape. Fear whispered that my thighs would be too bumpy, and my stomach wouldn’t turn him on either. I was terrified gravity had somehow ruined my boobs—apparently one of his favorite places on my body when supported with the right push-up equipment. And what about my armpits? I had always been particularly self-conscious about my armpits…

  “How are you more beautiful than I imagined?” Wyatt demanded. “Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured. He splayed his hands over my thighs and spread them apart, causing a fierce blush to rush to my cheeks. But I couldn’t help but search out his gaze. I had to know how serious he was.

  “You’ve imagined this?” I tried to tease him, but the intensity waiting for me set my entire body on fire with need.

  “Kaya, yes. More times than is probably normal. It’s been a real problem for me. I can’t even cook in the same room as you most of the time because all I can do is picture you naked… under me… exactly like this.” His lips twitched in an embarrassed smile. “But I don’t think this is going to cure me. You’ll be the end of me, woman.”

  I shook my head. “No. I refuse to be the end.” Feeling my insecurities drain and disappear, I leaned forward with renewed confidence and the lovely feeling of being wanted by someone who truly knew me. Someone who cared deeply about me. “I want to be the beginning.”

  He nodded rapidly and then kissed me senseless. His hand disappeared between my legs again, only this time there was nothing to impede his progress.

  One of his fingers dipped inside me, sending a shockwave of blissful sensation zinging through me. I clutched his shoulders, loving how strong and hard and immovable his fingers and hands were. They grounded me as a second finger joined the first, filling me, stretching me.

  “Wyatt,” I panted.

  He smiled against my mouth but kept kissing me. His fingers moved in and out, teasing, seducing, drawing me closer and closer to the edge of my sanity. When I couldn’t keep up with his incessant kisses, he moved to my jaw and the column of my throat. He paid special attention to the hollow of my throat, tasting, sucking, driving me mad with all the different places he was touching me.

  Shifting to his side, his free hand wrapped around my waist and tilted my hips. His fingers
reached deeper, finding new places to bring to life. His mouth closed around my nipple at the same time his thumb found my most sensitive place. My back lifted off the bed in a jolt of intense pleasure.

  He continued to thrust his fingers inside me until I could do nothing else but chase the fireworks his magic fingers promised to ignite soon. He continued to lick and suck at my breasts, moving from one to the next. He pressed my thighs farther apart and did something wicked with his thumb again.

  Light exploded behind my closed eyelids, my body coiled and tight while sparks ignited through every single one of my muscles, stretching to my fingers and toes and the back of my neck.

  The rush of my orgasm continued to pulse through me when he didn’t remove his hand. His fingers moved slower, more deliberately, not allowing me to let go of the feeling completely.

  When I was finally able to open my eyes, I found him hovering over me. He was a fallen angel like this, something more than human… more than mortal. Dark and so intense and strained with need.

  “That was the most beautiful thing I have ever fucking seen,” he rasped, his voice completely raw.

  I blinked at him, feeling the exact same way about him. Lifting my head so I could kiss him. “I need you, chef. Now.”

  He had to exert some effort to reach his nightstand where a condom was tucked into the drawer. That was the amazing thing about king beds. There was so much room. But I had to laugh at how he was forced to scramble over me, not missing the opportunity to smack his ass when he took too long.

  By the time he’d stripped off his pants and settled over me again, I was breathless and tingling with anticipation.

  “You’re my biggest weakness, Kaya” he whispered as he lined up his hot, hard, perfect body intimately against mine. My thighs cradled his waist and I felt him everywhere. Over me and against me, and in one, slow, mind-blowing thrust, inside me. “And my greatest ally.” He peppered kisses along my jaw and collarbone, slowly sliding in and out of my body as I struggled to comprehend what he was saying and the English language in general. “You’re my biggest challenge, my biggest problem. But mostly, you’re my salvation. From the kitchen. And from myself.” He paused over me and cradled my face with his hand. “I love you.”

  Tears wet my eyes. Since when had sex turned into this life-altering, incredibly beautiful experience? It had never been like this for me. It had never been soul deep and breath-stealing—a complete and utter connection on every single level—before. But that was always how Wyatt was. He defied every norm I had. He broke every rule and exceeded every expectation. He was and had been and would always be my exception.

  And I loved him for it.

  I loved him too.

  His thumb brushed over my cheek and I realized it was wet. He caught a tear that I had shed. Oh my God! I was crying during sex! He’d actually broken me.

  But instead of embarrassment, I was overcome with joy. Wyatt loved me.

  “I love you too,” I whispered to him, barely able to speak through the lump in my throat. “I think I’ve loved you for a while now.”

  “Good,” he said with a blinding smile that made my heart flip flop inside my chest. And then he moved. And didn’t stop moving.

  We clung together in a sweaty, tangled mess until we were both panting and desperate and taut with desire. He pushed me over the edge, sending me into a dizzying, blinding whirlwind of electric sensation. And then he followed me, groaning my name and another I love you in such a way that I knew I would never be the same, that this was the moment that changed me forever and ever amen.

  His head landed on my heart as we both came down from life-altering orgasms that were about five years in the making.

  “Knew it would be that good.” His words rumbled against my skin.

  I laughed, but it was breathy and weak, like my entire body. “The question is, would you still love me if I was bad at sex.”

  His head lifted, and he grinned at me. “Who said you were good at it?”

  I slapped his arm and glared at him.

  Settling in against my side, he slid his bicep under my head and pulled me against him. “Kaya, I would of course, still love you if you were bad at sex. I’d just make you practice a lot. You know, so you could get better. I don’t want you to be deficient in any area. I’m nice like that.” His fingers brushed over my stomach in a hypnotically soothing kind of way. “Now that I’m thinking about it though, there were actually several things you could improve. We should probably spend a significant amount of time working in that area. Practice makes perfect and all that.”

  I opened my mouth to say something about how he could just be celibate for the rest of his life, but a dinging in the kitchen interrupted my thoughts.

  “What is that?”

  “The quiche!” He hopped up so quickly, my head bounced back on the pillows. He jumped out of bed completely naked and I had the immense pleasure of watching him sprint from the room—with the perfect view of his muscled, bare ass. “Don’t move!” he shouted at me.

  My sweat had started to cool, so I slid beneath his comforter and pulled it to my chin. Five minutes later, I hadn’t moved. Instead, I found myself smiling at my lap while my fingers traced circles in the blanket.

  I’d agreed to a date with Wyatt, but what I’d actually gotten was sex, love, and a relationship. A seriously committed relationship.

  And I couldn’t have been happier.

  When he came back, carrying two plates that smelled like heaven and looked like pieces of priceless art, I’d decided that this was what “making it” must feel like, finally reaching all my goals and aspirations. This was what living the dream felt like.

  For so long I had been obsessed with my career and getting to the next level and creating a legacy for myself that I hadn’t even noticed what my life had been lacking. Yes, my career was important. And yes, I would continue to work as hard as it took to get the things I wanted. But this was what life was about—relationships. And doing them well.

  I almost had my career goals within my grasp, but without Wyatt I would have been lonely and hung-up on the past. I would have existed but my insides would’ve been empty.

  Wyatt fulfilled so many depleted places of me that it was honestly hard to comprehend how whole I felt. Maybe for the first time in my entire life, I felt like my career wasn’t the shining star of my life and that maybe, possibly, there was more to me than just cooking.

  Wyatt seemed to think that anyway.

  And I also knew that one person could not fulfill all my emotional, physical, and spiritual needs. I knew I had a lot of work to do to make myself whole. But I also knew that Wyatt was a good place to start. And he would be a good cheerleader as I waded through the rest of the bog and tackled my issues one by one.

  This wasn’t only a new relationship. This was a new beginning for me. And with Wyatt by my side, I finally believed I could start over. I knew we could tackle this life together and take whatever we wanted from it.

  He slid into bed beside me, burrowing beneath the comforter too. I mourned the loss of his body on display, but the quiche was so hot it was steaming. I figured that was a dangerous game to play with all our bits on display.

  I accepted the massive plate of food from him. “Good thing I’m starving,” I told him.

  He waggled his eyebrows at me. “I figured we worked up a pretty good appetite.”

  “Good point.”

  I settled the plate on my lap, the bottom of it burning through the blankets to warm my legs. The heat felt good, and the quiche was everything it should be. Light and fluffy, packed with veggies and bacon. The crust turned out exactly right. Apparently, Wyatt hadn’t been lying. He knew how to cook an amazing quiche.

  Smiling around my first bite, I realized I shouldn’t have been surprised. The man could literally do anything he put his mind to. However, quiche was such a strange dish to claim. I had expected him to have signature short ribs or beef bourguignon. Instead, it was quiche. And adorab
le.

  And it tasted amazing. “Yum.”

  He nudged me with his elbow. “Told you.”

  “Mmm,” I agreed around another bite of too-hot deliciousness. “Maybe tomorrow you can make me a casserole. You know, round out your style for me.”

  His rumbly laugh filled the room and he leaned over and bit my bare shoulder. “Maybe you should cook for me tomorrow,” he suggested.

  “You already judge my cooking every night,” I reminded him. “At least I didn’t yell at you across the house.”

  “I never yell at you.”

  “Umm, sometimes you do.”

  “Maybe I raise my voice, but it’s never out of anger.”

  I lifted an eyebrow and gave him a look. “What is it out of then?”

  “Sexual frustration?”

  Shaking my head at him, I laughed again. “Does that mean you’ll be cool as a cucumber from now on?”

  He stuck out his lower lip and thought about it. “Maybe,” he conceded. “As long as you keep me satisfied.”

  I thought about calling him on his bologna, but I was having too much fun razzing him. “Great,” I sighed. “Lilou’s going to implode, all because Wyatt is finally getting laid consistently.”

  “Hey, if I had to choose one or the other, pretty sure I’m going with getting laid.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me,” I laughed, “I won’t be there for much longer anyway.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to shove them back in. Abort, abort! blared through my head, but it was too late.

  I’d already said the stupid thing.

  And Wyatt picked up on it immediately.

  He set his plate down and slowly turned to face me. The humor had drained out of his expression and his eyes were that swirling storm I knew to be careful around. “What does that mean?” he demanded.

  I took another bite of quiche and hummed my approval at the delightful ratio of bacon to mushrooms. “This is so good, chef. I can’t believe how good it is.”

  “Don’t try to sweet talk me now, Swift. Spit it out.”

  “The quiche?”