Page 125 of Truck Hard

“Speaking of…” I carefully fold the document and tuck it into my shirt pocket, right over my heart. “I should go tell Hannah. She’s off today, working on the house.”

“Go, go.” Grams waves me toward the door. “But remember what I said about dinner!”

“I won’t forget.” I promise, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Love you, Grams.”

“I love you too, now get out of here before you explode from excitement.”

Her laughter follows me out the door, along with Mac’s shouting. “Tell Hannah I said hi!”

As I open the front door, my hand drifts to my chest where I can feel the edge of the document through my shirt pocket. My son. Officially, legally, irrevocably my son. No one can ever take that away from us now.

Cameron James Mutter. It has a nice ring to it.

I start down the road and right for Hannah’s house, my heart full to bursting. I can’t wait to see her face when I show her. Can’t wait to tell Cam when he gets home from school. This calls for a celebration—maybe I’ll go by the store and pick up stuff for Cam’s favorite dinner. Or maybe…

The possibilities spin through my mind as I cross the boundary of Hannah’s driveway. Whatever we do, we’ll do it together. As a family.

Myfamily.

I take the porch steps two at a time, barely containing my grin as I rap my knuckles against the wooden door. The sound of footsteps approaches from inside, followed by Hannah’s voice calling out. “Coming!”

When she opens the door, my breath catches. She’s dressed in old jeans and one of my t-shirts that she stole, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, with a smudge of paint on her cheek. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“Liam?” Her brow furrows in confusion. “What are you doing here? I thought you had work.”

“I did. Do.” I can barely string words together, too eager to share the news. “But this couldn’t wait.”

I pull the letter from my pocket with trembling fingers, holding it out to her. She takes it hesitantly, unfolding theofficial-looking document. Her eyes scan the text, widening as comprehension dawns.

“Oh my God.” Her voice catches. “Is this—”

“Check your mail.” I urge, gesturing toward her mailbox. “You should have gotten one too.”

She practically flies down the porch steps, yanking open the mailbox. Sure enough, there’s an identical envelope waiting inside. Tears well in her eyes as she reads her copy, one hand pressed to her mouth.

“It’s official,” she whispers, looking up at me with shining eyes. “He’s really yours now. Legally.”

“Ours.” I correct, closing the distance between us in two long strides. “He’sours.”

I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing away the tears that spill down her cheeks. The love I feel for this woman overwhelms me—this strong, incredible woman who’s fought so hard for our son, who’s rebuilding her life piece by piece.

She rises up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that steals my breath. What starts soft and sweet quickly turns heated as a lifetime of emotion surge between us. My hands slide into her hair, tugging the elastic free so I can tangle my fingers in the silky strands.

Hannah moans into my mouth, her body melting against mine. The sound shoots straight to my groin, making my jeans uncomfortably tight. When her hands slip under my shirt to rake her nails down my abs, I growl.

“Inside.” I manage between kisses. “Now.”

We stumble through the front door, barely breaking apart long enough to kick it closed behind us. Hannah’s hands are already working on my belt as I back her toward the living room. The need to touch her, taste her, claim her burns through my veins like wildfire.

“Wait,” she gasps as I start to take control. Before I can process what’s happening, she drops to her knees in front of me. My breath catches at the sight. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Her eyes meet mine as she finishes unfastening my jeans, tugging them down along with my boxers. “I want to taste you.”

Fuck. Just her words have my cock throbbing. When she wraps her small hand around my length, stroking slowly, my head falls back with a groan. The first touch of her tongue against my tip nearly brings me to my knees.

She takes her time, alternating between kitten licks and long strokes of her tongue before finally wrapping her lips around me. The wet heat of her mouth is heaven as she slowly takes me deeper and deeper. My hands find their way into her hair, not guiding, just needing something to hold onto as pleasure courses through me.

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