Page 46 of Knot Today (Hiddenverse #5)

Graham

Willow stands from the table with a soft smile and a warm scent that makes my gut twist. Peaches and cream, light and sweet and happy—fuck, she’s happy.

Because of us.

Because of this.

I gather the plates automatically, stacking them neatly and carrying them to the sink. I need something to focus on. Something to do with my hands. The feeling rising in my chest is too big, too much, too dangerous.

I rinse a plate. Grab the sponge. Start scrubbing.

“Hey.” Her voice is closer than I expected. “You cooked. I’ll wash.”

I don’t look at her. “I’ve got it.”

“You don’t have to do everything, you know,” she says, teasing, bumping her hip against mine gently. “Alpha or not.”

I finally glance over, and regret it instantly.

She’s right there, still glowing from dinner, hair a little messy, cheeks flushed, her eyes soft and open. Too open.

I can smell her contentment. It’s radiating off her in waves. And it makes something claw at my insides.

Because I want this. All of it. Again. And again. And again.

She reaches around me to grab a clean towel, brushing against my arm. Her shoulder presses into mine as she starts drying a plate, humming under her breath. It’s normal and domestic—a shared duty.

My jaw tightens. I scrub harder, rinsing the next plate.

“You’re quiet,” she says, glancing up at me.

“Thinking.”

She tilts her head. “About what?”

I hesitate. “How easy this feels.”

Her expression shifts slightly, the air tightening. “Is that…bad?”

“No.” I dry my hands, turning the water off. “But it makes me feel like I’m not in control.”

She blinks up at me. “And you need to be in control?”

I huff out a laugh, low and quiet. “Yeah. I do.”

It’s not something I admit often. Not even to Carson. But the truth is—I have to have control. It’s the only thing that’s ever made me feel safe. Because once, when I was too young to understand, all of it was ripped away from me. Parents gone. Home gone. Safety…gone.

What came after? Too many cruel homes to count. Kind ones that didn’t last. People who didn’t keep promises. The system breaking you piece by piece.

I survived by holding the line. By being the one who controlled the chaos.

Then Carson came. Small and angry and full of fire, just two years younger than me. He needed someone. And I became that person. I gave him what I never had: stability. Loyalty. Protection. When I aged out, I took him with me. Claimed him as part of my family. My pack.

Now we’re here.

And I want to do that for her too.

I want to give her everything. Provide for her. Protect her. Keep her safe. Take care of her. I reach out, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear before I can stop myself.

“I want to take care of you,” I murmur. “Not because I’m being paid to.”

Her breath catches. Her lips part just slightly. I don’t need to touch her to know her heart is racing. I can smell her reaction. It hits me square in the chest, and something inside me pulls taut.

She leans into me—just a little—but it’s enough to make my body go tense.

Not out of fear. Out of want.

Need.

She’s not just a job anymore. She hasn’t been for a while. And that’s the most dangerous part of all.

Because if I ever lost her?

There wouldn’t be enough control in the world to put me back together.

“What if I said yes?” she whispers. “What if I want that too?”

Fuck.

My fingers curl tighter around the damp plate in the sink.

Her voice—low, soft, the kind of tone meant for dark corners and tangled sheets—it knocks the breath from my lungs.

A whisper, but there’s no way I could’ve missed it.

Not with the way her scent spikes; sweet peaches and warm cream, wrapped in something deeper now, something heady. Need.

Slowly, I set the plate down, careful not to drop it. My heart hammers against my ribs, loud enough to drown out the sound of the running water.

I turn.

She’s standing close—too close—hands still wet, her eyes bright with challenge and heat. She’s testing me. Daring me to snap the leash I keep wrapped around my instincts.

“I’d say you don’t know what you’re agreeing to,” I rasp, taking one slow step forward, closing the smallest distance between us.

She lifts her chin, and I swear she trembles—not from fear, but anticipation. “Maybe I do.”

Her voice wavers, and it ignites something in me. Something dangerous. Something I’ve buried under years of discipline and duty.

I close the distance between us, pinning her between the counter and my body. Her breath stutters when I brace one hand on the marble behind her and reach with the other to tilt her chin up.

“You think I’m like Carson?” I murmur, brushing my nose along hers. “Playful. Teasing. Light.”

She doesn’t answer, but her breath comes quicker.

“I’m not.”

Her eyes flare.

“I’m not gentle,” I continue, dragging my knuckles down her arm. “I’m not soft. And I’m not the kind of man you try once and forget.”

She sways into me, lips parting. Her scent wraps around me again—so sweet it makes me ache.

“I don’t want gentle,” she whispers, and that’s it.

I break.

My mouth crashes down on hers, devouring the gasp she makes. I press her back against the counter, one hand in her hair, the other sliding to her hip to keep her exactly where I want her. She melts into me in a way that says she’s been waiting for this. For me.

And maybe I’ve been waiting for her too.

Her fingers fist in my shirt, tugging me closer, as I lick into her mouth and feel her moan vibrate down my spine. I grind against her without thinking, needing more—needing her. All of her.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because wanting her is one thing. But this—needing her? It’s dangerous.

Too much.

I tear my mouth from hers, panting, my forehead pressed to hers as I try to find control again.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” I growl.

“I think I do,” she breathes, her nails biting into my shoulders.

My eyes flutter shut for half a second, her words cutting deeper than she knows.

Because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how it feels to lose everything and have no power to stop it. To grow up in homes where people smiled one second and screamed the next. To sleep with one eye open, always ready to run.

And now, I’m afraid of losing again. Of losing her.

And that scares me more than anything.

I pull back slightly, brushing her hair away from her flushed cheeks. My voice is rough when I speak. “Go relax on the couch, Willow.”

She blinks up at me, lips swollen from our kiss. “That’s it?”

My thumb brushes the corner of her mouth. “If I don’t stop now, I won’t stop at all.”

She shivers, her mouth opening to argue with me, but instead she walks away slowly, throwing a glance over her shoulder that threatens to undo me all over again. As soon as she sinks down next to Carson, I brace both palms against the counter, trying to catch my breath.

I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want her.

Not even Carson or Hunter.

But I can’t lose control. Not now. Not when everything is teetering on the edge. And not when the girl we’re all falling for is stuck between three alphas, a possessive beta…

…and a past she might not be done with.

I could lose her. Hell, I don’t even have her, and I’m afraid of losing her.