Page 56 of Truck Hard

What? I don’t know how to accept his help? How to say thank you for this act of kindness? How to explain to him just how much this means to me yet it still scares the shit out of me?

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice tentative. “I hope I didn’t overstep.”

“No.” A tear escapes my eye and I quickly wipe it away. “I am such a mess, Liam. I wish I could see beyond this darkness, but it’s suffocating me.”

I let my true feelings flow out of me. Mostly because I don’t know what else to say, but also because I need him to know how much this darkness consumes me.

He crosses the room slowly, telegraphing his movements like I’m a spooked animal. When his hand lands gently on my shoulder, I have to fight the urge to lean into his touch.

Our eyes meet, andGod, I see everything in his gaze—understanding, concern, a depth of feeling that makes my chest ache.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says softly. “We’ve come this far. Just take it one step at a time.”

His gentleness breaks something in me. Before I can second-guess myself, I surge forward, cupping his cheeks, and press my lips to his. He makes a surprised sound but doesn’t pull away.Instead, his hand slides from my shoulder to cup the back of my neck, drawing me closer.

The kiss deepens, and suddenly I’m drowning in sensation. The rough scrape of his stubble against my skin, the taste of him on my tongue, the solid warmth of his body pressed against mine. It’s familiar and new all at once, awakening parts of me I thought had died under Charlie’s cruelty.

“Hannah,” he whispers my name. “I’m filthy. Probably stink.”

“Don’t care.” I pull him closer. “Just don’t stop.”

Liam backs me against the wall—not the one Charlie damaged, but the opposite one—and my body comes alive at the contrast. Where Charlie’s touch brought pain and fear, Liam’s brings heat and want. His hand slips under my shirt, callused fingers skimming my ribs, and I gasp into his mouth.

“Hannah,” he breathes against my lips. “Tell me if this is too much.”

“No.” I manage, arching into his touch. “Please, I need... I need to feel good again. Make me feel good.”

His eyes darken at my words. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing kisses down my neck. “Let me show you how beautiful you are.”

His hand slides lower, dipping beneath the waistband of my jeans. I bite back a moan as his fingers find me through my underwear, already embarrassingly wet. He groans at the discovery, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Can I touch you?” he asks roughly. “Really touch you?”

“Yes.” The word comes out desperate, needy. “Please, Liam.”

He captures my mouth in another searing kiss as his fingers slip past the barrier of my underwear. The first touch of skin on skin makes me whimper. It’s been so long since anyone touched me like this—with reverence instead of ownership, with the goal of giving pleasure rather than taking it.

His fingers explore slowly, relearning what makes me gasp and shake. When they finally slide inside me, I have to break the kiss to muffle my cry against his shoulder.

“That’s it.” He encourages, his voice rough with desire. “Let me make you feel good, sweetheart. You deserve to feel so good.”

His thumb finds my clit as his fingers curl inside me. I struggle to hold back the cry from how good this feels. My hips rock against his hand, chasing the pleasure building low in my belly. He reads my body perfectly, adjusting pressure and speed until I’m trembling on the edge.

“Liam.” I gasp, clutching at his shoulders. “I’m—”

“I know.” He kisses me hard, swallowing my moans as his fingers work me higher. “Come for me, Hannah. Let me see you fall apart.”

The command in his voice pushes me over. My orgasm crashes through me in waves, leaving me boneless and gasping against the wall. Liam’s free arm around my waist is the only thing keeping me upright as aftershocks ripple through me.

When I finally come back to myself, I find him watching me with such tenderness it makes my heart ache. He withdraws his hand slowly, pressing soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers against my skin. “So fucking beautiful when you come.”

I should feel exposed, vulnerable. Instead, I feel...cherished. Safe in a way I haven’t felt in years. Tears prick at my eyes, and I bury my face in his chest to hide them.

His arms wrap around me, holding me close as I shake with emotion. He doesn’t try to fix it or make it better—just lets me feel what I need to feel, anchoring me with his presence.

Above us, the sound of Cam’s game drifts down the stairs, and reality slowly seeps back in. We’re standing in my livingroom, clothes disheveled, the evidence of what we just did written all over us. Heat floods my cheeks.

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