“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Her breath stalls and maybe mine does, too. But even though I should take the words back, shove them deep inside and never let them see the light of day, I find I don’t want to. I’ve made her declare herself to me, give me her everything, and I’ve taken every piece for my own. But if there’s one person in the cab of the truck who owns the other, it’s her. I belong to Story Austin. And I’m pretty sure I always have.
