Page 45 of Sweetly Yours

As we undress each other, it feels like shedding more than just clothes. It’s letting go of everything—our fears, our doubts, the pain of the past few days—and finding each other again in the stillness of the night.

When we’re finally skin to skin, his hands cradle my face, his thumbs brushing gently over my cheeks as he stares into my eyes.

“I love you,” he says, his voice low and steady.

“I love you too,” I whisper, my hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.

He kisses me again, slow and deliberate, his movements full of purpose. Every touch, every brush of his lips, feels like a promise. This isn’t just about passion—it’s about connection, trust, and something deeper than either of us can put into words.

Brock shifts, positioning himself between my thighs, his hard length pressing against my center. My breath hitches, and his dark eyes lock onto mine, intense and unrelenting, like he’s seeing straight into my soul.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his voice rough but tender, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“I am,” I whisper, my voice trembling under the weight of his gaze.

He leans down, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss so soft it makes my chest ache. His hand slides down my side, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, before gripping my thigh and hooking it over his hip.

“Do you feel this?” he asks, his forehead resting against mine. “This is where I belong.”

I nod, my hands gripping his shoulders as he nudges against me, his cock sliding through the slick heat of my center. The anticipation coils low in my belly, the pressure building as his movements grow deliberate and slow.

His other hand comes up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing against my cheek as he stares into my eyes. “I need you to know how much you mean to me, Willow. You’re my everything.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away, cupping his face with both hands. “You’re mine too,” I whisper. “Always.”

With one smooth motion, he pushes into me, filling me completely. My gasp catches in my throat as my body stretches around him, the pleasure sharp and immediate.

“Willow,” he groans, his head dropping to my shoulder as he stills, giving me time to adjust.

I hold onto him, my fingers digging into his back as my body acclimates to the delicious fullness of him. “I’m okay,” I breathe. “I want this. I want you.”

He lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting mine again, and the look in them makes my heart ache. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” I whisper, my hands sliding down his back, urging him to move.

And when he does, it’s slow and deliberate, every thrust purposeful, every movement filled with love. He holds my gaze the entire time, his hands gripping my hips like he never wants to let me go.

The intensity builds between us, the rhythm of our bodies matching perfectly, and it’s overwhelming in the best way. It’s not just about the physical—it’s the connection, the trust, the love we’ve built in such a short time.

“Brock,” I gasp, my hands tangling in his hair as I feel myself spiraling closer to the edge.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice rough but steady. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

And I do.

The pleasure crashes over me, wave after wave of pure bliss, and I cling to him as he follows me over the edge, his groan muffled against my neck.

Aweek later, Sweetly Yours is back in business. With the help of June, Brock, and half the town, we managed to clean, repair, and breathe life back into the bakery. And just in time, too—Valentine’s Day was my goal, and I was determined not to let anything or anyone take that from me.

The grand reopening was more than I could’ve hoped for. The place was packed for hours, customers filing in nonstop with smiles, hugs, and kind words. Over and over, I heard things like,“We’re so happy you’re okay,”and“We missed you, Willow. The shop wasn’t the same without you.”

It made all the late nights and hard work worth it.

I’d spent the week baking hundreds of Valentine’s cookies—heart-shaped, iced, decorated with tiny flowers and sweet messages. I gave one away to every customer who came in. Watching their faces light up, seeing their gratitude... it made my heart swell.

I’ve never felt more like I belonged. This town, this shop, this life—it’s mine, and nothing, not even Tessa, can take it away from me.

By the time I lock the door, exhaustion is tugging at my limbs, but my heart is full. Frankie barks excitedly at my feet, his little tail wagging as if he knows we’ve had a good day.

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