Page 99 of Back to You
His gaze meets mine again, filled with desire and a hint of mischief. Just when I think I can't take it anymore, he pulls away with a smirk. "Not yet," he says, his voice low and husky.
I groan in frustration, but he quickly makes up for it by kissing his way back up my body. When his lips meet mine again, there's a desperation in our kiss that wasn't there before. We both want release—but we also want to savor every moment of this shared pleasure.
"I need you," he says in a low voice.
He positions himself at my entrance and slowly enters me, inch by delicious inch. I gasp at the feeling of him filling me completely, my body responding eagerly to his touch.
He moves slowly at first, building a steady rhythm that has us both moaning and writhing together. As our bodies move in perfect sync, I feel myself being consumed by pure and unadulterated pleasure.
His hands roam over my body, caressing every curve and sensitive spot, adding to the intense sensations coursing through me. Our pace quickens as our passion reaches a fever pitch.
I wrap my legs around his waist, deepening our connection and urging him on. He thrusts harder and faster, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I arch my back, pressing my chest against his and holding onto him tightly, not wanting this feeling to ever end.
I feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, my body trembling with anticipation. He senses it too and moves faster, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate as he chases his own release.
With one final thrust, we both reach our peaks, crying out in ecstasy as we climax together. Our bodies shudder and tremble with the force of it, leaving us both completely spent and breathless.
We cling to each other tightly as we come down from our high, our hearts beating in perfect unison. We stay like that for a few moments, catching our breaths and basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking.
He leans down to kiss me again, this time with a tenderness I haven't seen before. "I love you," he whispers against my lips.
CHAPTER 47
Mariana
The morning light spills through the windows of my bakery, warm and golden, casting soft shadows along the floors. It catches on the flour-dusted countertops, glints off the glass display case, and stretches lazily across the wooden tables.
The air is thick with the scent of honeyed almonds, caramelized sugar, and warm butter, curling around me in a way that feels like home.
It’s an hurried morning, the soft rhythm of dawn settling into the space before the world stirs to life. The scent of fresh espresso drifts in from the back, mingling with the sweetness in the air.
The low hum of the oven fills the space, punctuated by the soft clatter of trays being set down, the rustling of parchment paper, the quiet scrape of a spatula against metal. I breathe it all in, letting the warmth settle deep in my chest.
This place,myplace, my sanctuary—a space where my hands know exactly what to do, where every scent, every sound, every flicker of morning light belongs.
The best part of it all is that Sebastian is here.
He’s behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with flour, looking like he’s belonged in this space all along. My chest tightens at the sight, my heart stumbling over itself, caught between the sheer familiarity of him and the quiet wonder of seeing him here, in my world.
His brows knit together in concentration, his hands working the dough with an ease that shouldn’t make sense—but somehow, it does. There’s no hesitation in his movements, no second-guessing.
His fingers press, fold, and knead with a rhythm so natural it feels like he’s done this a thousand times before. I don’t even think he realizes it—like muscle memory, like second nature.
It’s effortless, unthinking, as if this kitchen, this moment, thisus, is exactly where he’s meant to be.
“You know,” I say, leaning against the counter, watching him work, “for someone who swears he doesn’t bake, you sure look like you know what you’re doing.”
He glances up, his mouth twitching into that half-smile that always gets me. “I grew up with you, Mariana. I absorbed some things by osmosis.”
I roll my eyes, but warmth spreads through my chest.This.This is what I never thought I’d have again—this easy rhythm, this laughter woven into the everyday moments, this quiet kind of love that doesn’t have to ask for permission to exist.
Sebastian wipes his hands on a towel, walking toward me, his gaze soft, searching. “You okay?”
I nod, but I know he sees through me. He always has.
He leans against the counter beside me, his body close enough that I can feel his warmth, even with the space between us. “You’ve been quieter today.”
I exhale, rolling a loose thread on my apron between my fingers. “I think I’m just… taking it all in. This place, us, how different everything feels.”
