Page 11 of One S'more Time

I kiss along her neck, breathing in the vanilla-and-cinnamon scent that clings to her skin. Her head falls back, giving me better access, and the small sound she makes when I find that sensitive spot below her ear nearly drives me crazy. My hands slide down to her hips, guiding her against me, and she rocks forward with a gasp that I feel all the way to my core.

"I want you," she whispers, her eyes dark and wanting as she looks down at me. "All of you."

The honesty in her voice, the vulnerability mixed with desire, makes my chest tighten with emotion. I pull her closer, my hands spanning her waist, feeling the softness there that she's spent too long being self-conscious about. To me, it's perfect—all of her is perfect.

"Ellie," I manage, my voice rougher than I expected. "Wait."

She stills immediately, uncertainty flashing across her face. I can see her walls starting to rebuild, and I quickly press a reassuring kiss to her lips.

"There's something I need to tell you first," I say, hating myself a little for the timing but knowing it can't wait any longer. Not when we're this close, not when I can feel us heading somewhere real. "Something important."

Her body tenses slightly, though she doesn't move from my lap. "What is it?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. This could change everything between us, and the thought terrifies me more than any fire I've ever faced. But Ellie deserves the truth—deserves to know that what we have isn't built on half-truths or omissions.

"Our meeting wasn't exactly... coincidental," I begin, choosing my words carefully. My hands stay on her hips, keeping her close, needing that connection as I continue. "There's something you should know about how we really met."

Her eyes search mine, wary but open. The trust there, still fragile but present, makes me determined to do this right. No matter what happens next, I won't be another person who lets her down.

10

THE TRUTH BETWEEN US

ELLIE

I hold my breath, my body going still as Nate's words hang in the air between us. Our meeting wasn't coincidental. The implication sends a cold wave through me, despite the warmth of his hands still on my hips.

"What do you mean?" My voice sounds smaller than I intend.

Nate takes a deep breath, his thumbs making small, reassuring circles against my hipbones. "Krissa and Zara... they're matchmakers."

I blink, processing his words. "Matchmakers? Like, professional matchmakers?"

He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "My sister signed me up with their agency months ago. Said I needed help in the relationship department." A wry smile touches his lips. "She wasn't exactly wrong."

Understanding dawns slowly, like batter spreading in a hot pan. "And I was... what? Your assignment?" The thought stings more than I expected, a sharp pain behind my ribs.

"They call it a match," he says quietly. "They saw something in both of us that they thought would work together."

I slide off his lap, needing space to think. The couch cushion feels cold after the warmth of his body. "So the bonfire, the cupcakes, you showing up at my booth... none of that was random?"

"The setup wasn't random," he admits, reaching for my hand. I let him take it, even as confusion swirls through me. "But everything that happened after—everything I felt, everything we shared—that was real, Ellie. Completely real."

I stare at our joined hands, trying to make sense of this revelation. Part of me wants to pull away, to retreat behind the walls I've spent years building. But another part—the part that remembers the tenderness in his touch, the way he looks at me like I'm something precious—that part keeps me anchored beside him.

"I should have told you sooner," he continues, his voice low and earnest. "I wanted to, but I was afraid of losing this—losing you—before we even had a chance."

"Why tell me now?" I ask, finally meeting his gaze.

His eyes are steady, unwavering. "Because I'm falling in love with you, Ellie. And I can't build something real on anything less than the truth."

The words hit me like a physical force, stealing my breath. Falling in love. With me. The confession hangs between us, raw and honest and terrifying in its simplicity.

"From the first moment, it wasn't about the match," he says, squeezing my hand gently. "It was about you. The way youfussed over those cupcakes like they were living things. The flour in your hair. The way you bit your lip when you were nervous." His voice softens. "It was always you, Ellie. The matchmakers just gave me the chance to see you."

Something shifts inside me, a piece falling into place. I think about how natural it felt with Nate from the beginning, despite my insecurities. How his presence in my bakery, in my life, seemed to fill spaces I hadn't even realized were empty.

"I understand if you need time," he says when I remain silent. "Or if this changes things for you."

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