The Problem with Him (The Opposites Attract Series Book 3)

by Rachel Higginson

  I laughed against his skin, loving the feel of his stubbled jaw against my lips. “Not that long.”

  “Any amount of time is too long with you,” he countered, always arguing, always needing to be right. And I loved that about him because I was the same way.

  He kissed up the column of my throat, forcing my head back. His teeth grazed against the underside of my jaw. I gasped when his hand palmed my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, making it peak, bringing it to life like every other part of my body.

  “I want you all the time,” he murmured. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wanting you.” His head lifted so he could meet my gaze and drown me in desire and feeling and him. “You’re my weakness. I see you across the kitchen and I crumble. I lose my train of thought and I forget what I’m in the middle of doing. I see you and there is only you. You’re going to get me fired.”

  My lips lifted in a love-drunken smile. “Then I could have your job.”

  He stole the desire straight from my lips by kissing me to oblivion. His fingers tugged at the thin straps of my flowy, floral maxi dress. “Why am I not surprised this is your play?” He laughed against my skin, his scruff tickling my throat. “But the joke’s on you. If you would have dangled sex in front of me months ago, I would have gladly handed it over to you.”

  I pulled my arms free from my dress and it slinked to my waist. He didn’t bother to wait for me to acclimate, his hands moved to the back of my strapless bra and deftly flicked it open. I tugged at his shirt, not wanting to be the only one topless.

  “Now who’s the liar?” I asked, totally breathless.

  Forcing my eyes to stay open, I took in the sight of him and all his glorious tattoos in the natural sunlight from his big kitchen windows. God, he was breathtaking.

  I traced my fingers over the very realistic eye drawn over his right pec, a single tear welling up in the corner of it. On the other side, an anatomical heart had been reimagined with fissures snaking out in every direction. It looked so real, except it was shattering, breaking apart into little, destroyed pieces of itself. The words forgive, focus, and fear made a triangle beneath his ribs. And all of it was connected by intricate designs and meaningful swirls.

  My fingers traced over the word triangle curiously. “What does this mean?”

  “My mom,” he rasped, his eyes intently watching my fingers move over him. “It’s a reminder to forgive the people that have hurt me, focus on the things I want most and rise above the fear.”

  I made a sound in the back of my throat, feeling oddly convicted by the words he chose to live by. I could learn a thing or two from them.

  “And the bird?” I asked, trailing my fingers to his neck.

  “More of my mom. It’s like a memorial to her.”

  My throat dried out until it was sandpaper and gravel. “You were close to her?”

  He jerked his chin once and it seemed like the one simple movement took everything out of him. “She had her demons, but she loved me. She wanted to take care of me, she just… couldn’t.”

  Tears wet my eyes. I laid my hand over the broken heart on his chest, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that it symbolized the real one hidden beneath skin, muscle, and bone. My voice was a strained whisper, grating against the rocks in my mouth. “I’m so sorry, Wyatt.” The words were so inadequate, so completely wrong. I was sorry, yes. But I was more than that too. I was devastated and grief-filled and angry on his behalf. I wanted to take him back in time and shake his mom until she got it together, until she saw how fucking precious her son was and how desperately he needed her to take care of him.

  “I’m okay,” he told me. And I believed him. “It was a long time ago. But I… I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her.” He blinked against glassy eyes. He pointed to the toque next, the giant chef’s hat tattooed on his side. “I got this the week Killian left Lilou. It was my promotion present to myself.”

  And just like that we’d moved on so effortlessly. His eyes cleared, and his voice steadied. He’d slid back into his comfortable skin. His hands caressed up my sides and settled on my back, bringing us closer together.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” I leaned to the side, to get a good look at it. “I’m surprised there isn’t an ‘I Hate Kaya’ tattoo somewhere on you.” I checked around the other half of him. “Or something like ‘Sous Chef Must Die’…anywhere?”

  He shrugged, nipping at my collarbone with his teeth. “Again, I feel as though you’re missing how much I rely on you. How I’ve always relied on you.” His head lifted, and our gazes slammed into each other in a head-on-collision that would shut down an interstate for hours from the force of the impact. “How much I’ve always liked you.”

  My belly flipped. “Lies,” I accused.

  Shaking his head slowly, he pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. “Day one, Kaya. You walked into the kitchen—all cotton candy blue hair and sharp teeth—and I lost my fucking head. I had never seen someone so cutthroat and sexy all at once. I burned everything I touched that night because I couldn’t concentrate on anything but you.”

  I remembered that night. I had been a ball of nerves, ready to puke at any second, but my own screwups had been ignored because Wyatt’s mistakes were way worse. Killian had chewed his ass all night.

  “You’ve never said anything until now.” My words were a whisper of disbelief. I thought about all the times I’d been mean to him, snapped at him, challenged him unreasonably. God, I’d been a vindictive bitch all these years.

  I thought about our texting through the years. And our recent make outs. I thought about the way I let him win sometimes. How I’d practically killed myself working so he could transition to EC easier.

  Okay, maybe I hadn’t been horrible the whole time.

  “You had a boyfriend,” he reminded me. “Or I had a girlfriend. Or God, you were sleeping with fucking Charlie.” His face wrinkled with disgust. “The timing has always been off for us.”

  It still was. He didn’t want to admit it but working together and sleeping together was a bad idea. And then there was Sarita… This was what I would call a pickle.

  And he was right. For all these years, we had missed each other. Now, at least we were both single. And what we had was too good to let go. I needed to explore it. Explore him.

  “The timing isn’t exactly awesome now…”

  His biceps flexed around me and his jaw ticked in that way I liked so much. “You think I’m going to let working together stop this?” He shook his head, determined. “Kaya, finally.” His breath snuck out of him in this relaxed, delicious way that forced my body to react. I felt him in my bones, down to my toes and the places beyond my physical body. He was settling into something permanent with me and I was helpless to stop him. “Fucking finally.” He grabbed the sides of my head and tilted it back, forcing me to meet his intense, consuming gaze. “This is real, yeah? This is fucking deep. And if you’re in, then let’s fight for this. Work, our friends, your parents, whatever is out there that wants to get in our way is just noise. We decide what we do, what we want. We decide how hard we want to work for this and when we want to walk away.”

  After all these years, I had to admit that I wanted this as badly as he did. Maybe I’d wanted it as long as he had too.

  “Do you think you will?” I cleared my throat, old fears and insecurities resurfacing. “I mean, walk away?”

  His smile reappeared, lifting the corners of his mouth slowly, in that way I loved so much. “Kaya, I’ve been trying to walk into this relationship for five years. The plan is to figure out how to get you to stay forever.”

  “Forever?” The word rushed out of me in a whoosh of disbelief.

  The look on his face devastated me, tore apart my heart and stomped on my soul and then somehow pieced it all back together again. His brown eyes twinkled, and his smile brightened and everything about him radiated permanency and hope.

  “You’re such a chicken,” he taunted.
“I’ve known you for all these years and I can’t believe I’m only just now realizing that you’re one huge chick-en.”

  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.”

  Chapter 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 pl
aces 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.”