Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  “Dillon…”

  “I did finally get tested for disease and pregnancy though. About a month later. I couldn’t stomach the idea of having to live with something venereal forever. And I was worried about a baby.”

  My heart hammered at those awful memories. The thing about being violated was that it didn’t end after the act was over. The actual act, the actual rape, had been the quickest part. It was the rest that would follow me around for my entire life. It was the pain and sorrow, the grief, the shame and embarrassment, the stupid guilt that shouldn’t even be mine. It was the tests that happened later. The continued exposure as I tried to make sure my body had survived in ways my soul hadn’t. And for those women that were brave enough to tell law enforcement… they had more tests and testimony, they had court cases and lawyers and opportunity after opportunity to relive their horror. The rapist walked away free as a fucking bird, while we had to suffer it over and over and over.

  “I’m clean,” I quickly added. “And there was no pregnancy caused by it.” The words tasted like ash in my mouth, but I still managed to spit them out. “In those ways, I got lucky, I guess.”

  Vann moved so quickly I barely caught my breath before he was kneeling in front of me, his hands tentatively on my knees, his eyes dark and intense. “Not lucky. Nothing about that is lucky.” His fingertips dug into my knees and I found that I didn’t want to push him away now that the story was out in the open, no longer hiding inside only me. “Dillon, I am sorry that happened to you. It’s not okay. Nothing about it is okay. I am wrecked that you had to survive that violence.”

  I shook my head, tears falling freely. “I feel like a coward for never telling anyone. He could still be out there. He could still be doing that to other women.”

  He lunged forward, wrapping me up in his arms, cradling me against him. “You’re not a coward,” he whispered against my temple. “You’re the bravest woman I have ever known.”

  “Vann…”

  “Stop,” he ordered, his gravelly voice sounding as though it had been dragged over hot coals. “I refuse to let you blame yourself for any part of that night. That should never have happened to you. You should never have been put in a position where you would have to question your decisions every damn day. That fucking asshole should never have touched you. That’s what should have happened. He’s the goddamn coward. Not you.” He pulled back, cradling my face as gently as humanly possible with both hands. “I have never met anyone more beautiful than you, Dillon Baptiste. I have never met anyone as kind or as giving or as funny. You are everything that is beautiful and lovely. Everything that is sweet. You are the opposite of all that happened. And if I ever find out who it was, I promise, we will make him pay. I promise, he will suffer like you have. He fucking dared to hurt something I love so much, I would be happy to put him away forever.”

  My wounded heart tripped over his words, finding more pieces of itself at the same time it grew in my dormant chest. “Love?”

  He seemed to realize what he’d said and that it had been the first time that word had been whispered between us. It only took him a moment to nod with conviction. “Yes, love. I love you, Dillon. I’ve been falling slowly for you since you walked into the Bianca kitchen when you wanted to turn down the job. I had never seen anyone as beautiful and confused and frustrated as you. I nearly dropped the stack of plates I was holding that night. Since then it’s been a downward spiral into wholeness. I love you. I want to keep loving you.”

  I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my heart against his chest, needing the comfort of his solid body. “I love you too,” I cried, fresh tears wetting my lashes. “I didn’t know I’d be able to feel this way. Not after what had happened. And not after confessing it. I didn’t even know if I was… loveable. Or if I had the ability to love back. I thought I would be empty forever. Forever broken. And yet you’ve made me feel like a can be whole again. Complete. Anything but empty. I love you, Vann Delane. I hope I always do.”

  He held me like that for a long time. Our hearts beating against each other, our arms wrapped securely around one another.

  He held me until I stopped crying. He held me until I could smile again. He held me until I was brave enough to face the world again.

  * * *

  I stepped out of the shower the next morning and wrapped myself up in a towel. Blinking at my reflection in the steamed-up mirror, I reached out and wiped my hand over the cool glass, making a window for my face.

  My eyes were still puffy from yesterday’s crying and my fresh face had seen better days. My long, wet hair dripped at my shoulders, water droplets rolling into the gray towel I’d secured tightly. But there was a light inside me that hadn’t been there in a long time—maybe ever. I looked stronger today. I looked resilient. I looked… confident.

  This was me, I realized. No fake personality to make other people feel comfortable. No dark, twisted secrets to stash away in the recesses of my soul. No pretense. This girl in the mirror had bared it all to someone she loved last night, and she had lived to tell about it.

  That was the definition of surviving for me. This was the goal in living. Opening up to Vann and sharing all the dirty details of that night six years ago, had changed me. But this time, in a good way.

  There were women out there that could tell their stories boldly. Loudly. Despite their fear and shame, they sought justice above all. I applauded those women.

  I truly did.

  To me, they were heroes. Not just victims. Not just survivors. But real-life warriors waging war against one of the worst kinds of injustice.

  But there were so many more women like me. Women not brave enough to share their stories with the world. Women not able to even speak the words to people that were close to them. Women not even able to utter them aloud and let them live in the open air.

  The pain was too personal. The memories too close. The horror and trauma of the constant nightmare we had to live with. It wasn’t just fear that held us back from speaking out. It was grief too. And pain and shame and a million other things. Every victim of sexual assault was doing their best just to live through the days that followed. Just survive the fucking day and the torrent of blame and awful thoughts spinning through our heads at all hours.

  Maybe one day I would speak out. Maybe one day, I could stand up and share my story beyond the walls of my therapist’s office and this apartment. But today, telling Vann had been enough. Telling one person that understood me and believed me and supported me was… life.

  Maybe that seemed cowardly to the outside world, but I was learning that bravery looked different for everyone. But most of all, healing took time. Years. Sometimes an entire lifetime.

  And right now, today, this morning, pieces of me that had been broken for a long time felt… mended.

  That was enough for me. At least for now.

  I didn’t know what could be done at this point anyway, so much time had passed from the night everything happened. I had a specific date, a specific location and too many fuzzy memories. No DNA testing could be done. No likeness could be drawn. No names could be given.

  Vann was insistent that we try. Neither of us liked the idea of that monster prowling around free, looking for other women to victimize. But he also refused to let me take the blame for that. He refused to let me share any of the rapist’s guilt. It was the rapist. Not me.

  Never me.

  I found that I was starting to believe him. That I believed him more than I didn’t believe him. Which was a strange feeling after being unable to trust nearly the entire male species as a whole for so long.

  But I did trust Vann. And I wouldn’t have been able to had I not fallen so hard and so completely for him.

  He was waiting in my room when I walked out of the bathroom. He was tucked into a chair against the wall, flipping through Netflix options without settling on anything. His eyes found my still wet body immediately.

  They eventually made it to my eyes but not before t
aking their time moving up from toes to nose.

  “Feel better?” he asked in that sweet, careful voice he’d been using with me all day.

  I nodded. The hot shower had felt amazing after yesterday, cleansing and soothing and like it had washed away the ickiness that lingered.

  Vann had spent the night after we’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms on the couch, talking and talking and talking. We talked through more of my past. And he shared his with me. We talked about what it was like to have a parent die, my dad and his mom, and how that left grief marks so deeply etched in our hearts that it was easy to want to fill those lines with something else. We talked about my years in culinary school and how food had started my healing process. We talked about his years with Cycle Life and how lonely that had been for him. At some point our eyes had closed, even as we continued to talk. And heal. And fall deeper and deeper in love.

  It was in those hours that I knew I trusted this man completely. He had my heart. He had my soul. And he could have my body whenever he wanted because he would never be the man from six years ago. He would never disrespect me or hurt me in that way.

  The rapist six years ago was a monster.

  Vann Delane was the man I loved.

  I woke up to him carrying me to my room, cradled in his arms. He’d attempted to settle me in bed and walk away, but I’d caught his fingers before he could go anywhere and pulled him down with me.

  We’d woken up, tangled in each other’s arms. He’d ordered breakfast from Uber Eats and we’d enjoyed veggie egg-white omelets and protein shakes from his favorite nearby food truck. It had been a little too healthy for me, but I loved spending time with him and enjoyed the meal despite the lackluster components. And I could admit that Vann was going to be good for my diet.

  I was sure he needed to go to work soon, as did I. But I couldn’t bring myself to suggest that he leave.

  When our gazes finally found each other, his was burning with heat, liquid silver with desire. A tingle followed the same path as his look, starting in my toes and rocketing through me. My heart kicked against my breastbone and my core thrummed with anticipation.

  We had been through something devastating and emotional last night. I had cried for hours. And he had shed tears with me. Then he’d held me the entire night, wrapped securely in his strong, safe arms. And helped me start picking up my shattered pieces.

  The connection between us was stronger than ever. As was this building attraction.

  I loved him.

  He loved me.

  And yet we’d only been fully intimate one time and I could barely remember it.

  I found myself desperate to separate that experience from the one six years ago. I wanted to put as much space between Vann and the faceless rapist as possible.

  Not only that… I wanted Vann.

  Wanted his body and the experience. I wanted his hands all over me and his mouth everywhere and for his body to touch mine in ways that would leave me forever branded by him.

  Vann looked away, rubbing his hands on his athletic pants. He’d taken a shower first thing this morning and borrowed my toothbrush, but he only had his clothes from yesterday. They were rumpled and adorable, and God, I wanted to rip them off him.

  “Hey,” I murmured, desperate to have his gaze on me again.

  He looked up. I dropped my towel. His eyes bugged and his lips parted. That was probably the last thing he had expected me to do.

  “Dillon, I…”

  I could see him struggling for words and it only made me more comfortable. I walked toward him, surprised at how confident I felt in the full light of day.

  He licked dry lips and tried to speak again. “We don’t have to… I know you’re still upset… I don’t want to rush you…”

  I climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips with zero protest from him. His inability to function properly made me smile.

  “I want to,” I told him. His gaze searched for mine again, needing full permission. “I want you, Vann. You’re nothing like… that night. This is what I want. You are what I want. And not just in this way. I want you in every way. I love you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a sign of emotion. “I trust you.”

  His hands landed tentatively on my waist, careful, gentle… hopeful. “I love you too,” he promised.

  Our mouths crashed together with that final permission, hungry, greedy, and desperate for more. His teeth scraped over my bottom lip and his tongue invaded my mouth, tasting me, devouring me.

  I let him take over, coaxing me deeper and deeper into desire. Tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, I was tired of being the only one not clothed. He pulled at it, helping me yank it over his head.

  Our bodies crashed back together, my bare breasts against his solid chest. I moaned at the sensation. His hands landed on my hips and tugged me more fully against him.

  “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he murmured between kisses. “God, woman, I am so fucking lucky.”

  My heartbeat tripled at his sweet words, letting them sink into my blood, deep into the center of my bones. “I need more,” I gasped, running my hands over all that warm, glorious skin of his chest and biceps.

  “Mmm,” he agreed.

  One of his hands held my breast, rubbing his thumb over my nipple the way I liked. His other pulled the back of my knee, spreading my legs wider, seating me tightly against his hard body.

  My hips started writhing on their own and he pinched my nipple until my back arched in pleasure.

  “I want you, Dillon,” he whispered. “More than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything.”

  “Take me then,” I ordered, ready for all that he had to offer.

  He smiled against my mouth. “Better make it memorable though, yeah?”

  A squeak escaped me as he scooped me into his arms before tossing me on the edge of the bed. I raised my hands above my head, expecting him to follow me, when suddenly he was gone.

  I leaned up on my elbows to find that he’d dropped to his knees so his head could disappear between my legs. I gasped, clawing at the down comforter on my bed while he drove me toward madness.

  “Vann,” I panted as he did wicked things with his tongue and teeth.

  “So fucking lovely,” he murmured against my most sensitive place.

  Two of his fingers joined his mouth, reaching so deep inside me I thought I would faint. I made sounds I had never made before. And writhed like a woman who had lost her mind to sex.

  His thumb found the place I needed him most at the same time he whispered, “I could watch you all day.”

  Lights exploded behind my closed eyelids as every muscle in my body tightened in pleasure. The orgasm rocked through me, curling in my core before stretching to every limb. My back lifted off the bed as my knees closed around Vann’s head tight enough to crush the poor man.

  When I finally came down from the experience, he was standing over me with a satisfied smile on his handsome face. “God, I love you.”

  I bit my bottom lip and nodded my head. “I love you too.”

  He started to pull down his athletic pants but stopped before he got to the good part. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

  And that opened up a conversation we needed to have. “I’m on birth control. Especially since, uh, it happened. I just… it’s important to me, even though I’ve been celibate for six years.”

  A dark emotion crossed over his expression at the memory.

  Wanting to push past it, I asked, “But have you been tested recently?”

  The darkness faded into an affectionate smile. “We went over this the last time. I’ve been tested recently and I’m totally clean. You’re also clean. You assured me like ten times the first time.”

  Hazy memories flickered through my mind of going above and beyond the call of duty to assure him I was good to go.

  Oh, good grief. That was embarrassing. I slapped a hand over my eyes and groaned. “Now I remember.”

  The soun
d of his pants sliding off his body and dropping to the floor had me peeling my hand away to admire the glory that was Vann Delane’s toned, gorgeous body.

  Holy hell. This man was perfect.

  And he was mine.

  He started to move over me. I wiggled back on the bed, so we had room to… move. He followed, nipping at my breast as we went.

  “You’re sure you’re okay with no condom?”

  “I promise,” I whispered, anticipation and heat flooding me all over again. Hadn’t I just had an orgasm? Was I going to be greedy today?

  Yes, yes I was.

  He kissed me again until I couldn’t help but clamp my legs around his waist and lift my hips to meet his. I wanted this man.

  I had never wanted anything more.

  He slid inside me slowly, taking his time, enjoying every freaking second. We both gasped when he was fully seated, my entire body awakening to the feel and pleasure of him.

  Just when I didn’t think it could feel any better, he began to move. And move. And move. We gasped for breath as he took turns with my nipple in his mouth or kissing me. My fingernails dug into his lower back as he filled me completely, pulled out and then thrust inside me again until all I could feel was him in every inch of my body.

  Before I knew it, I was at the edge again, chasing that fireworks explosion he was so very good at giving me.

  And then I was falling. Falling over the edge of sensation and feeling. Falling in love with him deeper and deeper and deeper. And falling right into his safe and wonderful arms.

  He chased after me and I watched as his eyes slammed shut and he became the sexiest thing I had ever seen in my entire life. I knew exactly what he meant when he said he could watch me all day.

  I wanted to watch him again. And again. And for the rest of my life.