Page 20 of Alpha's Promise

A sly smile crossed his face as he stood, exposing a tight, muscular torso and perfect muscle laden arms. Landon removed his jeans. She couldn’t breathe. Goosebumps covered her arms and legs. Just the sight of his long, hard, thick cock was enough to make her drool.

Flipping her over, he pulled her up onto her knees while wrapping his arms around her, pushing himself up against her. Her whole body was alight with need and desire. He pulled her closer, kissing her neck and placing his hands on the back of her thighs and ass. He lifted her up with one strong arm and entered her in one quick motion, filling her with his massive cock.

Her breath caught in her throat. This was what she wanted. This was what, if she was being completely honest with herself, she’d wanted all along.

“You feel so good,” he groaned as he thrust in and out of her.

They moved in unison, desire wrapping them in their shared passion. His kisses were full of heat and desire. His hands moved all over her body. He teased every curve, until a powerful orgasm swept over her, and he began to pound into her in a frenzy of need. Over and over, he stroked in and out, harder and faster in primal need until he thrust deep, grinding against her as he filled her with his essence.

In the afterglow, beneath the velvet sky, Dakota's breath came slow and deep, her head resting against Landon's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart—an echo of her own. Here, entwined with him beneath the canopy of the cosmos, the haunting melody of the past receded into silence, and for the first time in forever, she was content to simply be.

CHAPTER 10

DAKOTA

Dawn's first blush crept through the gauzy curtains, casting a gentle glow on Dakota's slumbering form. She stirred, her consciousness surfacing from the depths of a dream-filled sleep, and she woke alone. The sheets beside her held only the faint warmth of a body that had recently departed, and the room was silent save for the distant crowing of a rooster greeting the day.

Memories wafted back to her like the scent of wildflowers carried on a breeze—vague, yet potent. They had stumbled through the twilight, laughter mingling with the night's whispers, as they made their way from the pasture back to Copper Canyon Ranch. As soon as they were alone in her room, their passion erupted like wildflowers in bloom, matching the untamed landscape visible from her windows.

Her skin tingled at the recollection, each sensation amplified by the solitude of the dawn. Landon's touch still lingered, a phantom caress that set her blood aflame. His kisses had been insistent, tender—branding her with an intimacy she'd never known.

She could almost hear the hushed tones of his voice, those sweet words that had fallen from his lips like blessings in thedark. The way he nuzzled against her neck, his breath warm and steady, left a trail of goosebumps in its wake. And then, in the cocoon of night's embrace, he had roused her gently, a soft urgency in his voice.

"I need to slip back to my own room," Landon had whispered, his words heavy with reluctance. "If anyone finds out about us, it should come from you."

The promise in his gaze held an unvoiced agreement, sealed by the quiet understanding that passed between them. It was a fleeting speck of time, charged with the potential of revelations yet to unfold. Dakota felt the weight of it now, the delicate balance of secrecy and desire they both navigated with care.

As she lay there, the world outside her window slowly awakening, the atmosphere of the ranch infused the room. The rustic charm of weathered wood and earthy textures seemed to echo her own inner tumult—a landscape both beautiful and fraught with unseen perils.

Dakota rose, her movements languid, and padded across the floor to draw back the curtains fully. Morning light spilled into the space, chasing away the shadows of night. What they had shared was more than just a stolen night; it was the kindling of something that threatened to consume them both.

Feeling a bit unsteady, Dakota sought solace in the shower. The water cascaded over her like warm rain in a sunlit clearing, steam curling around her body as if conjured by the same mystic forces that seemed to pulse beneath the surface of the ranch. She closed her eyes, the heat unfurling tense muscles and coaxing her into a state of vulnerability she seldom permitted herself.

Landon's image materialized behind her closed eyelids—tall, dark, and arresting. She could almost feel his presence there in the steam with her, a phantom touch that traced the curve of her spine, igniting a yearning that threaded through her like silver smoke. The patterns of water on her skin became his fingertips,the gentle pressure of the stream his lips pressing against her flesh. Her breath hitched, caught in the fantasy that swirled around her, as tangible as the moisture beading on the shower walls.

Dakota couldn't resist the urge to touch herself, her hand drifting down as she pretended it was his. The memory of his big, calloused hands on her skin sent shivers down her spine and she yearned for them once again. She imagined his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs expertly flicking over her nipples. She longed for his mouth on her, but he had left her. Using her own hand, she traced the path his fingers would take down to her clit. Desperate for release, she let out a moan as she envisioned Landon's hand that was driving her wild and making her wet with desire. She stifled a cry as she felt her climax rush over her, much like the water that sluiced down her body.

"Damn it, Landon," she murmured to the empty room, a smile flirting with the corners of her mouth despite the emotional turmoil roiling within her. Even now, with him nowhere in sight, he left his mark upon her senses, drawing her in with the gravitational pull of a secret only they shared. It was a dangerous game, this dance of shadows and desire they played, yet she couldn't deny the thrill it brought—the searing heat that coursed through her veins, leaving embers in its wake.

As the water sluiced off the remnants of their nocturnal escapade, Dakota braced herself against the cool tile, grounding herself in the present. She would need every ounce of composure for the encounters to come, each step forward entangling her further in the saga of Copper Canyon Ranch and the man who had upended her world without even trying.

Dakota finished her shower and got dressed, her fingers brushing over the denim, a rough and comforting texture that reminded her of Landon's calloused hands. The jeans were new to her but not newly made, each pair worn-in with the kindof love only a dedicated ranch hand could imbue into fabric. She folded the rest of the clothes neatly, appreciative of the generosity the women at Copper Canyon Ranch had shown. With each article of clothing they offered—a sweater here, a shirt there—they wove her deeper into the fabric of their community.

But it wasn't just any community; it was Landon's world she was slowly becoming a part of, and the thought made her tremble with both fear and desire. The feeling had nothing to do with the chill of the morning air. She slipped a sweater over her head. Its fibers caressed her skin, whispering warmth and an illusion of safety that contrasted starkly with the tremulous uncertainty in her heart.

The borrowed sweater draped over her like a protective shroud, Dakota descended the staircase, her senses still humming from the memories of the night before. The jeans she'd acquired hugged her curves assertively, reminding her of Landon's hands, his touch—both tender and commanding. Etta was in the kitchen, the scent of fresh coffee mingling with the crisp morning air, while Briar sat at the table, thumbing through an old seed catalogue.

"Morning," Dakota greeted, her voice carrying the huskiness of sleep and secrets.

"Up and at 'em early, I see," Etta said with a knowing smile, pouring a cup of black gold.

"Couldn't sleep," Dakota replied, accepting the mug and leaning back against the wooden counter, the grains of which seemed to echo with whispers of the past.

"Big day ahead?" Briar chimed in, her gaze not quite meeting Dakota’s.

"Something like that," Dakota mused, sipping the coffee, its bitterness grounding her fluttering thoughts.

She excused herself shortly after, claiming a fervent need to return to her attic explorations. The house's veins led herupwards, away from prying eyes and into the shadows and dust that the attic provided. The space was a time capsule, filled with relics of lives lived and secrets kept, all bathed in the ethereal light that filtered through the cobwebbed window.

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