10. The Truth Between Us
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 you fussed 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."
I look at him—really look at him. The concern in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the way he's holding himself like he's bracing for impact. He's afraid, I realize. Afraid of losing me.
And suddenly, it doesn't matter how we met. What matters is that we did meet, and everything that's happened since. The way he makes me feel seen. The way he touches me like I'm something precious. The way he's looking at me right now, like I hold his heart in my hands.
"It doesn't change anything," I whisper, surprised by the certainty in my voice. "How we met doesn't matter as much as what we found."
Relief washes over his face, his shoulders relaxing visibly. "You're sure?"
In answer, I lean forward and kiss him, pouring everything I can't yet say into the press of my lips against his. His response is immediate, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me close again.
When we break apart, both breathing hard, I rest my forehead against his. "Take me to bed, Nate."
His eyes darken with desire, but he searches my face, making sure. "You're not upset?"
"I'm done letting fear make my decisions," I tell him, running my fingers along his jaw. "I want this. I want you."
In one smooth motion, he stands, lifting me with him. I wrap my legs around his waist, marveling at the strength in his body as he carries me toward my bedroom. His mouth finds mine again, hungry and certain, as he navigates the short hallway.
My bedroom is bathed in soft lamplight. Nate lays me down gently, his body a warm weight above me as he braces himself on his forearms. His eyes roam my face, filled with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, tracing a finger along my cheek. "I've thought so from the first moment I saw you."
I should feel self-conscious under his gaze, but instead, I feel powerful. Wanted. His desire for me is evident in every line of his body, in the heat of his eyes as they travel over me.
"I want to see you," he says, his voice rough with need. "All of you."
I nod, sitting up slightly as his fingers find the zipper of my dress. He draws it down slowly, his knuckles brushing against my spine in a way that sends shivers racing across my skin. The fabric pools at my waist, and I lift my hips to let him pull it away completely.
His breath catches audibly as he takes me in, clad only in my lace bra and matching panties. I resist the urge to cover myself, to hide the softness of my stomach or the fullness of my thighs. Instead, I watch his face, the naked appreciation there making me feel more beautiful than I have in years.
"God, Ellie," he breathes, his hands spanning my waist. "You're perfect."
I reach for him, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Your turn."
He smiles, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him—broad shoulders, firm chest dusted with dark hair, the defined muscles of his abdomen. Years of firefighting have sculpted his body into something that makes my pulse race.
"Come here," I whisper, reaching for him.
He lowers himself over me again, and the first touch of his bare skin against mine pulls a gasp from my throat. His mouth finds mine in a kiss that's both tender and hungry, his hands exploring the curves of my body with reverent attention.
I arch into his touch as his fingers trace the edge of my bra, teasing along the swell of my breasts before deftly unhooking the clasp. The garment falls away, and his eyes darken as he takes in the sight of me.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, lowering his head to press a kiss to the valley between my breasts. His mouth moves lower, capturing a nipple between his lips, and I cry out at the sensation, my back arching off the bed. His tongue circles the sensitive peak, sending sparks of pleasure racing through me.
My hands roam his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath smooth skin as he lavishes attention on my breasts. When his teeth graze lightly against my nipple, I dig my nails into his shoulders, earning a groan that vibrates against my skin.
"I need to taste you again," he says, his voice rough with desire as he begins to move down my body. His lips trace a path over the softness of my stomach, his hands gripping my hips with gentle pressure. "Let me make you feel good, Ellie."
I nod, breathless with anticipation as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my panties, drawing them down my legs with agonizing slowness. The cool air against my heated center makes me shiver, or maybe it's the hungry look in his eyes as he settles between my thighs.
"So perfect," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee, then higher, his mouth leaving a trail of fire along my inner thigh. My breath comes in short gasps as he nears where I need him most, my hips lifting involuntarily.
His first touch is gentle, almost reverent—a soft kiss against my center that makes me whimper. Then his tongue is there, hot and insistent, tracing patterns that have me clutching at the sheets. He explores me with deliberate attention, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me moan, what makes my thighs tremble around his head.
When he slides a finger inside me, curling it just right while his tongue circles my clit, I cry out his name, my back arching off the bed. He adds a second finger, stretching me deliciously as his mouth continues its sweet torture.
"Nate," I gasp, my hands finding his hair, fingers tangling in the short strands. "I need—I want?—"
He lifts his head, his eyes dark with desire as they meet mine. "Tell me what you want, Ellie."
"I want to ride you," I whisper, surprising myself with my boldness. "I want to feel you inside me."
A groan escapes him, his fingers tightening on my thighs. "Yes," he breathes, pressing one more kiss to my center before moving up my body. "God, yes."
He stands to remove his jeans and boxers, and I can't help but stare at the evidence of his desire for me, thick and hard against his stomach. My mouth waters at the sight, and I lick my lips unconsciously.
I surprise both of us by pushing gently at his shoulders. "Lie back," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
His eyes darken further, but he complies, settling against my pillows with a smile that's both tender and hungry. I move to straddle him, my thighs bracketing his hips, his hardness pressing against me in a way that makes us both groan.
"Like this?" I ask, suddenly uncertain despite my earlier boldness.
His hands find my hips, steadying me. "Just like this," he confirms, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're in control, Ellie. Show me what you want."
The trust in his gaze gives me courage. I reach between us, guiding him to my entrance, then slowly, slowly sink down onto him. The stretch is delicious, my body accommodating his size with a fullness that borders on overwhelming.
"Oh God," I breathe as I take him completely, my hands braced on his chest for balance. "Nate..."
His fingers dig into my hips, his breath coming in harsh pants. "You feel incredible," he groans, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my heart race. "So perfect around me."
I begin to move, finding a rhythm that has us both gasping. His hands guide me, supporting my weight as I rise and fall above him. The angle is perfect, hitting spots inside me that send waves of pleasure racing through my body.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice rough with desire. "Just like that, Ellie. So beautiful."
His words, the naked appreciation in his eyes as he watches me move above him, fuel something inside me—a confidence I've never felt before. I arch my back, changing the angle slightly, and the new sensation pulls a cry from my throat.
"Yes," he growls, one hand leaving my hip to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple in time with our movements. "Let me hear you, Ellie. I want to hear how good you feel."
I can't hold back the sounds he pulls from me, gasps and moans that would embarrass me with anyone else. But with Nate, there's no room for shame—only pleasure, only the building tension coiling tighter with each roll of my hips.
"I'm close," I breathe, my movements becoming more erratic as I chase my release. "Nate, I'm so close..."
"I've got you," he promises, his hand slipping between us to circle my clit with gentle pressure. "Come for me, Ellie. Let me feel you."
His touch is exactly what I need, pushing me over the edge into blinding pleasure. I cry out his name as waves of sensation crash through me, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. He holds me through it, his hands steady on my hips, his eyes never leaving mine.
Before my climax fully subsides, he sits up, wrapping an arm around my waist as he flips our positions. I find myself on my back, Nate above me, still buried deep inside. The new angle pulls another gasp from me, oversensitive nerves lighting up with renewed pleasure.
"Okay?" he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
I nod, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him deeper. "Please," I whisper, needing to feel him lose control the way I just did.
He begins to move, powerful thrusts that have me clutching at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. The sounds he makes—deep groans and harsh breaths—are the most erotic thing I've ever heard.
"Ellie," he gasps, his rhythm faltering as he nears his release. "God, Ellie, I?—"
"Let go," I urge, lifting my hips to meet each thrust. "I want to feel you."
With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep, his body tensing above me as he finds his release. The sound he makes—my name on his lips like a prayer—sends another wave of pleasure through me, another climax that has me tightening around him.
For a long moment, we stay like that, connected in the most intimate way, our breathing gradually slowing. Then he lowers himself to kiss me, a tender press of lips that says more than words could.
When he finally pulls away, easing out of me with gentle care, the loss of connection makes me whimper softly. He gathers me in his arms, my back to his chest, his warmth enveloping me completely.
"That was..." he begins, his voice soft against my hair.
"Yeah," I agree, unable to find words adequate for what just happened between us. More than physical pleasure, more than release—it felt like connection, like understanding. Like coming home.
His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer against him. "I meant what I said before," he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple. "I'm falling in love with you, Ellie. Maybe I already have."
The words send warmth blooming through my chest, spreading outward until I feel it in every part of me. I turn in his arms to face him, needing to see his eyes when I say what I've been feeling for longer than I've admitted even to myself.
"I love you too," I whisper, the truth of it settling into my bones like it's always belonged there. "It terrifies me, but I do."
His smile is slow and beautiful, crinkling the corners of his eyes in that way that first made my heart flutter. "We can be terrified together," he says, brushing a curl from my face with gentle fingers. "As long as we're together, I can handle a little terror."
I laugh softly, snuggling closer to his warmth. "Deal."
As his arms tighten around me, I realize that for the first time in years, I feel completely at peace. The doubts that have haunted me, the fear of falling short of expectations—they haven't disappeared entirely, but they've retreated to whispers I can barely hear over the steady beat of Nate's heart against mine.
Whatever happens tomorrow, or the day after, or all the days that follow, I know this: what we've found together is real. Not because a matchmaker saw potential, but because we chose each other, again and again, despite our fears and insecurities.
And that choice—that leap of faith—feels like the sweetest, most perfect recipe I've ever created.