Chapter Eight
Dakota stood in his apartment doorway, running his fingers along the new frame.
The wood was smooth, unmarred, the lock mechanism solid when he tested it.
Kivani had replaced everything, right down to the hinges, and the door now closed with a satisfying click that made Dakota feel safer than he had in weeks.
“Better?” Kivani’s voice came from behind him, warm and close enough that Dakota could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Much better.” He turned the lock back and forth, listening to the smooth slide of metal. “Thank you for fixing it so fast.”
“Hardware store opened at six. I was there at six-oh-one.” Kivani leaned against the doorframe, and Dakota tried not to stare at the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders. Failed completely, but tried. “Figured you'd want to feel secure in your own space again.”
The thoughtfulness made something warm bloom in Dakota’s stomach.
He’d spent so many months with Bennett, who had never once considered what Dakota needed or wanted unless it directly benefited him.
Having someone actually care about his comfort felt foreign and wonderful and slightly terrifying all at once.
“I do feel more secure.” Dakota locked and unlocked the door one more time, just because he could. “Though, I have to admit, your couch was pretty comfortable.”
Kivani’s smile was slow, satisfied in a way that made Dakota’s face heat. “You’re welcome back anytime. Door's always open for you.”
The double meaning wasn't lost on Dakota, and his brain immediately supplied images from last night. Kivani’s mouth on him, the sounds he’d made, the way his hands had felt everywhere they touched. Dakota cleared his throat and focused very hard on the door lock to avoid embarrassing himself.
“So…” Dakota said, because the silence was getting dangerous. “What are you doing today? More taffy making?”
“Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to learn.” Kivani pushed off the doorframe, moving closer. “You've been organizing my supplies for weeks now. Seems only fair you get to see what I actually do with them.”
The offer made Dakota’s heart do something complicated behind his ribs.
He’d watched Kivani work before, seen him pull taffy with those strong arms until the candy achieved the perfect texture.
But actually participating, learning the process, felt like being invited into something private and important.
“Really? You'd teach me?” Dakota couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice, didn’t even try.
“I'd love to teach you.” Kivani’s hand found Dakota’s lower back, a casual touch that felt anything but. “Come on. I’ve got a batch ready to pull.”
They went downstairs together, and Dakota was hyperaware of Kivani’s hand on his back, guiding him through the door to the shop. The sweet smell hit him immediately, sugar and vanilla and something fruity. Kivani led him to the kitchen where a slab of golden taffy sat cooling on the marble counter.
“This is honey lemon,” Kivani explained, moving to wash his hands at the sink. “Good starter flavor because it’s forgiving. Not too sticky, pulls easy.”
Dakota washed his hands beside him, their arms brushing. The casual contact made his skin feel too warm, too sensitive, and he had to focus on getting his hands properly clean instead of thinking about what those hands had done to Kivani last night.
“So what do I do?” Dakota dried his hands on the towel Kivani offered, trying to channel some confidence he didn’t feel.
“First, we need to portion it out.” Kivani moved to the taffy and cut off a section with a large knife. “This is about the right amount for one person to work. Too much and your arms will give out.”
He handed the portion to Dakota, and the taffy was warm in his hands, pliable but not liquid. Dakota squeezed it experimentally, feeling the texture give under his fingers.
“Good. Now we pull.” He demonstrated with his own portion, stretching the taffy between his hands until it formed a long rope, then folding it back on itself. “You want to incorporate air, make it lighter. Keep pulling and folding until it turns opaque.”
Dakota mimicked the motion, pulling the taffy apart. It stretched easily, the golden color gleaming in the light from the windows. He folded it back and pulled again, finding a rhythm that felt natural.
“Like this?” He glanced at Kivani, who had moved closer to watch his technique.
“Exactly like that.” His hand settled on Dakota’s waist, and Dakota’s next pull was less smooth. “You’re a natural.”
The praise made Dakota’s face heat. He focused on the taffy, pulling and folding while Kivani’s hand stayed warm on his waist. The repetitive motion was soothing, almost meditative, and he found himself relaxing into it.
“How long do I keep going?” Dakota’s arms were starting to feel the effort, his muscles burning in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant.
“Until it looks like this.” Kivani held up his own taffy, which had turned from golden to a pale cream color. “See how it’s not shiny anymore? That means it’s ready.”
Dakota pulled his taffy a few more times, watching the color shift. The transformation was satisfying in a way he couldn’t quite name, like he’d accomplished something real and tangible. When his portion matched Kivani’s, he held it up triumphantly.
“I did it!”
“You did.” Kivani’s smile was warm, proud, and Dakota wanted to bask in that expression forever. “Now we twist it into a rope and cut it.”
Kivani demonstrated, rolling the taffy between his palms until it formed a long, even cylinder. Dakota tried to copy him, but his rope came out lumpy and uneven. He frowned at it then at Kivani’s perfect version.
“Hey, first time is never perfect.” He moved behind Dakota, Kivani’s body pressing against his back. “Here, let me help.”
His hands covered Dakota’s, guiding them in the rolling motion. Dakota’s breath caught at the contact, at the feel of Kivani’s body solid and warm behind him. The taffy became secondary to the way Kivani’s fingers threaded through his, the way his breath ghosted across Dakota’s ear.
“There you go.” Kivani’s voice had dropped lower, rougher. “Nice and even.”
The taffy rope was indeed smoother now, uniform in thickness. But he couldn’t focus on it properly because Kivani’s mouth had found the side of his throat, pressing a soft kiss just below his ear. The touch made Dakota’s hands still, his entire body going taut.
“Kivani.” His voice came out breathless, wanting.
“Mmm?” Another kiss, this one lower. His chest rumbled against Dakota’s back, that purr vibrating through both their bodies. “Am I distracting you?”
“Yes.” He tilted his head to give Kivani better access, the taffy forgotten in his hands. “Definitely yes.”
Kivani’s laugh was warm against Dakota’s skin. “Sorry. You just smell so good. Can’t help myself.”
The admission made heat pool low in Dakota’s stomach.
He leaned back into Kivani’s body, letting himself be held.
The shop was quiet around them, just the sound of their breathing and the occasional car passing outside.
Nothing existed except this moment, this man, this feeling of being wanted so completely it made Dakota’s head spin.
“We should probably finish the taffy.” Dakota didn’t move, made no effort to step away from their embrace.
“Probably.” Kivani’s mouth moved to Dakota’s shoulder, kissing through the fabric of his sweater. “Or we could just stand here like this.”
“That’s not very productive.”
“I’m okay with that.” Another kiss, followed by that rumbling purr that Dakota could feel in his bones. “Are you okay with that?”
Dakota thought about it for approximately half a second. “Very okay with that.”
They stood there together, Kivani’s arms wrapped around Dakota’s waist, his mouth doing wonderful things to any skin he could reach. The taffy grew cooler in Dakota’s hands, harder to work with, but Dakota couldn’t bring himself to care. This was better than taffy. Better than anything.
Eventually, Kivani pulled back with what sounded like genuine reluctance. “We really should finish this before it gets too hard to cut.”
“Fine.” Dakota tried to sound disappointed but couldn’t quite manage it. He was too happy, too content, too wrapped up in the glow of being wanted. “Show me what to do next.”
Kivani guided him through cutting the rope into small pieces, wrapping each one in wax paper, twisting the ends. Dakota’s cuts were uneven, his wrapping sloppy compared to Kivani’s practiced efficiency, but Kivani praised each attempt like Dakota had created something perfect.
“These are really good for your first try.” He held up one of Dakota’s wrapped pieces, examining it like it was precious. “Most people can’t get the twist right at all.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” But Dakota couldn’t help smiling, couldn’t help feeling pleased with himself.
“I’m saying it because it’s true.” Kivani set the piece down and pulled Dakota in for a quick kiss. “You’re good at this. Natural talent.”
The kiss was sweet, brief, but it made Dakota’s toes curl anyway.
He was getting used to this, he realized.
Used to Kivani’s casual affection, the way he touched and kissed and purred like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The shifter revelation had felt world-shattering last night, but in the light of day, with Kivani’s arms around him and taffy cooling on the counter, it just felt like another piece of who Kivani was.
Another piece Dakota was learning to love.
The thought made him pause, his hands stilling on the taffy he was wrapping. Love. Was that what this was becoming? He’d known Kivani for weeks, not months. Had only just learned what he really was. Love seemed too big, too fast, too dangerous.
But his heart didn’t seem to care about logic or timing. It just kept pulling him toward Kivani like gravity, inevitable and absolute.
“You okay?” Kivani’s hand found Dakota’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “You got quiet.”
“Just thinking.” Dakota forced his hands to keep moving, to finish wrapping the piece he was holding. “About everything that’s happened. About us.”
“Good thoughts or bad thoughts?” Kivani’s voice held carefully concealed worry.
“Good thoughts.” Dakota turned to face him, setting the wrapped taffy aside. “Really good thoughts, actually. I’m just processing.”
“Take all the time you need.” Kivani’s hands settled on Dakota’s hips, thumbs rubbing small circles. “No pressure, no expectations. We move at whatever pace feels right for you.”
The understanding, the patience, made Dakota’s throat tight. “Thank you.”
They finished wrapping the taffy together, working in comfortable silence broken only by occasional kisses and the sound of wax paper crinkling. When the last piece was wrapped and stored away, Dakota’s stomach growled loudly enough to make them both laugh.
“Lunch?” Kivani suggested, already reaching for his phone. “We could order delivery from the diner this time.”
Dakota thought about how he’d spent the entire meal wanting Kivani’s food when they’d eaten there before. “Can I get the burger this time? And fries?”
“You can get whatever you want.” The guy’s grin made Dakota’s heart flutter, made him think of forever with his tiger.