Page 65 of Truck Hard

“It’s perfect.” He sets down his toolbox and moves closer, until he’s standing right behind me. “Makes your eyes look even more beautiful.”

His words send heat flooding through me. When I turn to face him, the intensity of his gaze steals my breath. How does he still affect me this way? After everything we’ve been through, everything that’s changed, one look from him can still make me feel like that teenage girl who first fell in love with the boy next door.

“Liam.” His name comes out barely above a whisper.

His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin with infinite gentleness. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs.

I chuckle. “You just saw me early this morning.”

“Too long.” And then his mouth is on mine.

The kiss starts soft, almost reverent, but quickly deepens as need takes over. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer as his tongue slides against mine.

A small sound escapes my throat as his hands slide down my sides to grip my hips. He uses the leverage to pull me flush against him, and I can feel how much he wants me through his jeans. The evidence of his desire makes heat pool low in my belly.

“We should be working on the house.” I manage between kisses, even as my body arches into his touch.

He chuckles against my lips. “This feels like work to me.” His hands slip under my shirt, callused fingers skimming across bare skin. “Very important work.”

A shiver runs through me at the contact. Every touch feels electric, lighting up nerve endings I thought had gone dormant during my years with Charlie. But Liam knows my body—has always known it—even after all this time apart.

His mouth trails down my neck, finding that sensitive spot just below my ear that makes my knees weak.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against my skin. “If this isn’t what you want.”

“Don’t you dare stop.” I breathe, tilting my head to give him better access. My hands slide into his hair, holding him close as he sucks gently at my pulse point.

That seems to snap the last of his restraint. In one fluid motion, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively. He carries me the few steps to the stairs, but I shake my head.

“Floor.” I gasp between kisses. “Need you now.”

He groans at my words, carefully lowering us both to the carpet. The synthetic fibers scratch against my back through my thin t-shirt, but I barely notice. Not when Liam is looking at me likethat—like I’m something precious and wild all at once.

“Let me see you,” he says softly, fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. “Please?”

The vulnerability in his voice makes my heart ache. I sit up enough to let him pull the paint-stained shirt over my head, leaving me in just my simple cotton bra. For a moment, I feel self-conscious—there’s nothing sexy about my workaday underwear—but the way Liam’s eyes darken banishes that thought.

“Beautiful.” He breathes, hands skimming up my sides. “So fucking beautiful.”

Before I can protest, his mouth is on mine again, stealing any words I might have formed. His kisses are intoxicating—deep and thorough, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me. When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.

“Your turn.” I manage, tugging at his t-shirt. He helps me strip it off, and then it’s my turn to stare.

Liam has always been fit, but the years have only enhanced the broad planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his arms. Scars mark his skin here and there—a testament to a life spent working with his hands—and I trace them gently with my fingers.

His breath hitches when I lean forward to press a kiss over his heart. The steady thump beneath my lips grounds me in this moment, reminding me that this is real.Heis real, solid and warm beneath my touch.

His hands come up to tangle in my hair as I explore his chest with my mouth, learning the taste of his skin. When I scrape my teeth gently across his nipple, he groans, hips bucking slightly against mine.

“Hannah.” He pants, voice rough with need. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me.”

I smile against his skin, emboldened by his reaction. “Good.”

His laugh turns into another groan as I rock deliberately against his hardening cock straining his jeans. His hands tighten in my hair, pulling me up for another searing kiss that leaves me dizzy with want.

While our mouths war, his clever fingers find the clasp of my bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. I let him pull it off, shivering as cool air hits my newly exposed skin. But then his hands are there, warm and calloused, cupping my breasts with reverent care.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peak. “You’re perfect.”

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