32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
T wo hours had passed in the greenhouse and I hadn't moved from the workbench. My back ached from hunching over the ribbons, my fingers were sore from tying bows, but I kept going. The quiet rustle of leaves and soft hum of the fan were the only companions to my thoughts—and those were better than letting my mind wander anywhere else.
I reached for another spool of cream satin when I heard the door creak open.
“Vivian.”
The sound of his voice—deep, a little rough around the edges—cut through the stillness. I didn’t need to look up to know it was Dakota.
I paused, ribbon in hand. “Back for round two already? I thought you would be keeping busy with the case…not bothering me.”
I sensed rather than saw him move closer, his footsteps nearly silent on the concrete floor. When I finally looked up, he was leaning against the workbench, arms crossed over his broad chest, studying me with those intense dark eyes.
"Not a bother," he said simply. "You missed your break."
I glanced at my watch and winced. He was right—I'd blown past the one-hour mark by nearly double that time.
"I was in the zone," I admitted, setting down the ribbon with reluctance. "These centerpieces aren't going to finish themselves."
Dakota's eyes swept over the completed arrangements—elegant compositions of burgundy roses, blush peonies, and delicate sprigs of greenery, all nestled in vintage brass containers. His expression softened almost imperceptibly.
"They're beautiful," he said, then his eyes flashed to mine, “But that doesn’t mean you can skip breaks.”
I sighed, reluctantly setting my shears down and flexing my cramped fingers. "I lose track of time."
"I noticed," Dakota replied dryly, but there was no real irritation in his tone. He moved closer, his gaze critical as he studied my posture. "Your shoulders are tight. You're going to hurt tomorrow if you don't stretch now."
"I'm fine," I insisted, though the dull ache between my shoulder blades suggested otherwise.
Dakota raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Stand up."
"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow, not liking the tone or being told what to do. Even if this wasn’t my house, I wasn’t going to be ordered around.
"Stand. Up." He punctuated each word with quiet authority that somehow didn't feel domineering. "Five minutes. That's all I'm asking."
I hesitated, then reluctantly pushed back from the workbench, wincing as my stiff muscles protested the movement. Dakota nodded with approval, moving to stand behind me. Before I could question what he was doing, his hands settled on my shoulders, strong fingers finding the knots with unerring precision.
I tensed instantly, my body responding to his unexpected touch even as my mind protested. "What are you—"
"Relax," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You're wound tighter than security at a federal building."
His thumbs pressed into a particularly tense knot at the base of my neck, and I couldn't suppress a small gasp—part pain, part relief as the pressure began to ease.
"That hurts," I muttered, though I didn't pull away.
"It's supposed to," Dakota replied, his fingers working methodically across my shoulders. "That's how you know it's working."
I closed my eyes, reluctantly surrendering to the firm pressure of his hands. His touch was warm, precise, and sent shivers down my whole body. I bit my lip to keep from making any embarrassing sounds as he found another knot and worked it loose with practiced efficiency.
"Where did you learn to do this?" I asked, trying to distract myself from how good his hands felt against my skin.
"Military training," he answered, thumbs pressing in circular motions along my spine. "Field medics taught us basic techniques. Muscle fatigue affects performance."
"Of course," I managed, my voice slightly strained as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Everything's about... performance with you."
I felt rather than heard his low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Not everything."
The simple statement hung in the air between us, loaded with meaning I wasn't ready to examine. His hands continued their methodical work, moving from my shoulders to the base of my neck, then down along my upper back. Every press of his fingers seemed to leave a burning trail across my body, every touch somewhere between pleasure and pain. I found myself leaning into his ministrations despite my better judgment, my body betraying my mind's hesitation.
"Breathe," Dakota instructed, his voice a low rumble close to my ear. "You're holding tension in your lungs too."
I exhaled slowly, not realizing I'd been holding my breath. His scent enveloped me—cedar and rain, with something deeper and distinctly Alpha that made my pulse quicken. When his thumbs pressed into the muscles along my spine, a small, involuntary moan escaped my lips.
I felt him freeze for a fraction of a second, his fingers stilling against my skin. The greenhouse suddenly felt several degrees warmer, the air between us charged with an electricity I couldn't ignore. Dakota's scent—pine and earth and something distinctly Alpha—enveloped me, making a low wine from the back of my throat leave me.
I felt his hands resume their movements, but his touch was different now—more deliberate, lingering. His fingers traced the curve of my spine with exquisite slowness, leaving trails of heat in their wake. The intensity of his scent deepened, wrapping around me like a physical embrace.
"Dakota," I whispered, my voice barely audible even in the quiet greenhouse.
"Hmm?" His response was a rumble that I felt rather than heard, vibrating from his chest against my back.
I couldn't find the words to express the riot of emotions coursing through me—desire mingled with uncertainty, need tempered by caution. Instead, I leaned back slightly, allowing my body to rest more fully against his solid frame.
When he hit another knot, a whine left my lips again and following that a growl came from Dakota, his touch lingering on my shoulders, his fingers flexing slightly as if fighting for control.
"I should stop," he said, his voice rough with restraint. "This isn't..."
"Professional?" I suggested, not moving away despite my better judgment. "Appropriate?"
"Either," Dakota admitted, though his hands remained on my shoulders, thumbs tracing small circles that sent shivers down my spine. "You're under our protection."
I turned slowly to face him, suddenly needing to see his expression. His dark eyes had deepened to almost black, pupils dilated with an emotion I recognized all too well. The careful control that usually masked his features had slipped, revealing something raw and hungry beneath.
"Is that all I am?" I asked quietly. "A witness to protect?" I didn’t let any thoughts linger in my head as the haze being in the moment surrounded my thoughts.
Dakota's jaw tightened, a muscle working beneath the stubble that shadowed his face. "You know it's not."
There was silence for a minute before I heard Dakota growl more, this time its was more primal, his hands on me me gripping me, “Fuck.”
The next next moment, I was turned around and my back hitting the only clean work area on the table , his hands gripping my waist as his mouth crashed down on mine. The kiss was nothing like I expected—not gentle or hesitant, but hungry and demanding. His lips claimed mine with a fierce intensity that stole my breath, his stubble rough against my skin as he angled his head to deepen the connection.
I should have pushed him away. I should have remembered all the reasons this was a terrible idea. Instead, my hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the solid muscle as I pulled him closer, returning his kiss with equal fervor.
Dakota groaned against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me as his hands slid from my waist to my hips, lifting me fully onto the workbench. I gasped as he stepped between my legs, his body pressing against mine. His scent enveloped me completely now—pine and earth and aroused Alpha, making a low whine leave me.
He let go of my mouth as his lips found my neck, hot and insistent, sending electric currents racing through my body. I gasped, my hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin beneath my ear.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured against my throat, his voice a ragged command. "Tell me this isn't what you want."
But I couldn't form the words, couldn't voice a lie when my body was responding so eagerly to his touch. Instead, I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer, a soft moan escaping me when his hand slid down to grip my hip. I couldn’t tell him to stop, not when there was something about him and the rest of the Alpha’s that made me feel things I hadn’t before.
Dakota growled, the sound vibrating against my skin as he pressed me more firmly against the table. His scent enveloped me completely now—intoxicating, demanding, making my head swim with desire. His lips traveled up my neck to my jaw, then back to my mouth, capturing my lips once more in a searing kiss that left me breathless. My hands slid beneath his shirt, fingers tracing the hard planes of his stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath my touch.
"Vivian," he breathed against my lips, my name a reverent prayer and desperate plea all at once. His hands gripped my thighs, pulling me closer to the edge of the table until our bodies were flush against each other. The evidence of his desire pressed against me, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core.
The greenhouse air felt thick with our combined scents—his dominant Alpha musk mingling with the sweet notes of my arousal. My fingers curled into his shirt, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.
"Dakota," I breathed, the name a plea and a warning all at once.
He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching mine, pupils blown wide with desire. His breathing was ragged, matching my own. For a moment, we simply stared at each other, the gravity of what we were doing hanging between us like a physical presence.
“Fuck.” He growled, before pulling back, leaving me on the table. I could feel his dark eyes on me, “We really shouldn’t. I’m going to go cool down. I’m sorry.”
I slid off the table, my legs unsteady beneath me as I watched him back away. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, hands clenched into fists at his sides as though physically restraining himself.
"No, I'm sorry," I said, smoothing down my shirt with trembling hands. "That was... I shouldn't have..."
"It wasn't just you," Dakota cut in, his voice rough. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that made him look younger, more vulnerable. "This is complicated. The case, the pack, your safety—it's all tangled together."
I nodded, trying to collect my scattered thoughts. The ghost of his touch lingered on my skin, my lips still tingling from his kiss. "I know. It's not professional."
"It's not just that," he said, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face me. "Gabriel is our Alpha. Pack leader. These things—they need to be discussed. Together."
The mention of Gabriel sent a fresh wave of confusion through me. Images flashed through my mind—Gabriel's arm around me during the movie, Theo's gentle hands teaching me exercises, Lucas's playful smile as he made bows. All four Alphas, somehow weaving themselves into my life in ways I hadn't anticipated.
"All of you," I whispered, the realization dawning slowly. "You all really are making my life go haywire.”
Dakota's expression softened slightly, vulnerability showing through his usual stoic mask. "We're a pack, Vivian. What affects one affects all."
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed despite being fully clothed. "I don't know what to do with this," I admitted quietly. "Any of it." I hadn’t expected any of these Alphas. Not at all.
“I will let you finish….I need to go talk to Gabriel.” Dakota sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as I watched him wrestle with his own internal conflict. The tension in his shoulders, the controlled breathing—Dakota was struggling as much as I was.
"I'll be back to check on you in an hour," he said finally, his voice steadier now. "Take your breaks, Vivian. For your own sake."
With that, he turned and strode toward the door, his movements tightly controlled. The greenhouse door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with my chaotic thoughts and the lingering scent of aroused Alpha in the air.
I pressed my fingers to my lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss. What was happening to me? I'd spent years carefully maintaining my independence, keeping emotional and physical distance from Alphas. Yet in less than a week, four of them had somehow breached defenses I thought impenetrable.
“Everything is so fucked.” I muttered to myself as I went back to the arrangements on the table, using it to distract myself from everything.