I step through the door. The old brass bell is gone. Replaced by something heavier. Something that sounds like a promise. The air hits me first. Sugar. Warm yeast. Bourbon vanilla. Him. Oak. Sandalwood. *Daddy.*
I stop breathing.
The counters are gone. The cracked laminate is gone. The faded pink paint is gone. In its place: polished marble. Brushed gold fixtures. Matte black shelving. Fresh paint that smells like money and care. I run a hand along the edge of the new display case. Smooth. Cold. Real.
“Like it?” His voice rolls out from the back hallway. Low. Rough. Possessive.
I turn. He’s leaning against the doorframe. Dressed in charcoal slacks. A white shirt unbuttoned at the throat. Sleeves pushed to his forearms. Eyes dark. Hungry. *Mine.*
“You bought it,” I whisper.
“I bought it for us.” He crosses the room in three long strides. Boots silent on the new tile. Hands find my waist. Pulls me flush against him. Solid. Unshakable. “You gave me donuts and a reason to live, sweetheart.”
My chest cracks open. I press a hand to my stomach. The bump is undeniable now. A hard, perfect curve under my sweater. Three months. Three months of him. Three months of *us.*
I look up. He’s already looking down. Like he’s mapping every inch of me. Like he’s memorizing the way my lips part. Like he’s claiming me all over again.
“You renovated it in two weeks,” I manage.
“Three weeks,” he corrects. “You were sick the first week. Couldn’t keep food down. Made me take sick days. Sat on the couch while I hired contractors.” He brushes a thumb over my cheek. “Worth it. Every second.”
I lean into his touch. His skin is warm. Real. My knees go weak. They always go weak for him.
I kiss him. Slow at first. Then deeper. His tongue slides against mine. Tasting. Claiming. I melt. Always melt. For him. Instalove wasn’t a thing I believed in. Until him. Until this. Until now.
His hand slides down. Over my ribs. Over my belly. He stops. Presses flat. Feels the life inside me.
“Ours,” he murmurs.
“Could be a boy,” I whisper back.
He chuckles. Low. Dark. “Doesn’t matter. She’s ours. Mine.” His grip tightens. Possessive. Absolute. “I’m going to breed you until you’re carrying again. You hear me, sweetheart?”
Heat floods my core. Instant. Overwhelming. I wrap my legs around his waist. He catches me. Steady. Unshaken. Carries me to the back office. Sets me on the desk. Doesn’t break the kiss.
He undoes my sweater. Pushes it up. Over my head. Leaves me in my bra. His hands are everywhere. My breasts. My nipples. He pinches. Sucks. Marks.
“So pretty,” he growls. “So wet. Already dripping for me.”
I arch. A moan escapes. “Daddy.”
He curses. Drops to his knees. Yanks my pants down. My panties follow. I’m bare. Exposed. His mouth is on me before I can breathe.
“Fuck,” I gasp. “Yes.”
His tongue is relentless. Deep. Rhythmic. Mapping my pussy like he’s claiming it. Like he’s breeding it. I clutch his hair. My hips thrust. Desperate. Needing.
He pulls back. Stands. Unzips. My cock is already out. Thick. Veined. Hard as stone. Pre-cum slicks the tip.
He lines up. Pushes in. Slow. Deliberate. Stretching me. Filling me. Claiming me.
“Mine,” he groans. “All mine.”
I wrap my legs around his waist. Pull him deeper. “Yours. Forever.”
He bottoms out. Buries himself to the hilt. My stomach presses against his. Our bodies lock. Breathless. Connected.
He starts to move. Slow at first. Then harder. Deeper. Each thrust hits my cervix. Each thrust breeds me. Fills me. Marks me.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I do. His eyes are dark. Feral. Possessive. Full of love. Full of need.
“I’m going to cum inside you,” he grits out. “Gonna fill you up. Gonna make sure you’re carrying my heir. You hear me, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I whimper. “Do it. Daddy, please.”
He grinds. Slams. Fucks me like he’s trying to merge our souls. My climax builds. Fast. Violent. I shatter. Screaming his name. Clenching around him.
He follows. Groaning. Thrusting. Emptying himself inside me. Hot. Thick. Breeding. Claiming.
I collapse against him. He holds me. Tight. Safe.
He rests his chin on my head. Breathes me in.
“Home,” he murmurs.
I smile. Press a kiss to his jaw. “Our home.”
He shifts. Keeps me on the desk. One hand on my back. The other on my belly.
“I’ll buy this block if I have to,” he says. “I’ll build you a bakery empire. You’ll never work a shift again. You’ll just be my wife. My mother. My everything.”
I cup his face. “I don’t need a bakery. I just need you.”
He kisses me. Soft. Slow. Sweet.
“You’ve always needed me,” he corrects. “Now you finally know it.”
I laugh. Soft. Happy.
He lifts me. Carries me to the couch in the corner. Sets me down. Lies beside me. Pulls me against his chest.
I listen to his heartbeat. Steady. Strong. *Mine.*
“Still dreaming about donuts?” he asks.
“Dreaming about you,” I admit. “And the baby. And this. Us.”
He kisses my hair. “Always you. Always us.”
I close my eyes. Let the warmth wrap around me. The shop is quiet. The past is gone. The future is bright.
He’s here. The baby is safe. We’re together.
HEA isn’t a fairy tale. It’s real. It’s him. It’s us.
He traces patterns on my stomach. “Our daughter,” he says again. Like a prayer.
I cover his hand with mine. “Ours.”
He chuckles. Low. Rich. “I’m already teaching her how to run the place. How to drive me crazy. How to keep you.”
I pinch his side. “Don’t spoil her before she’s born.”
He catches my wrist. Brings my hand to his lips. Kisses my knuckles. “Can’t help it. I’m already obsessed. With you. With her. With this life.”
I lean up. Press my lips to his. “I love you, Daddy.”
He freezes. Just for a second. Then pulls me tighter. Presses his forehead to mine.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispers. “So fucking much. I was lost before you. Now I’m found. You gave me donuts and a reason to live. And now? You gave me a family.”
I cry. Happy tears. Soft. Quiet.
He wipes them away. “No more sadness. Just us. Just this. Forever.”
I nod. “Forever.”
He shifts. Rolls us onto our sides. Keeps me trapped against him. One arm around my waist. The other on my belly.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “Inside and out. Especially when you’re carrying my child. Especially when you look at me like I hung the moon.”
I do. I do. I’ve been doing it since day one.
“Let’s go home,” I whisper.
He stands. Offers his hand. I take it. He pulls me up. Doesn’t let go.
We walk out together. Past the gold-trimmed counters. Past the fresh pastries cooling on the racks. Past the sign that reads *Kane & Jessa’s.*
He opens the door. The afternoon sun spills in. Warm. Golden. Perfect.
I step out. He follows. Wraps an arm around my shoulders. Pulls me close.
“My shop,” I say.
“Our shop,” he corrects. Sucks on my neck. Leaves a mark. Possessive. Proud. “Always ours.”
I smile. Press my hand to my stomach. Feel the life inside me. Feel his hand over mine. Feel his heart against my back.
This is it. The end of the waiting. The end of the doubt. The start of everything.
He kisses my temple. “Ready for the rest of our life, sweetheart?”
I turn in his arms. Look up. Meet his dark, devoted eyes.
“Always, Daddy.”
He grins. Feral. Happy. Mine.
Then he carries me to the car. Still kissing me. Still promising forever.
And for the first time in my life… I know it’s true.