Lila

Heat flooded my face, my chest, everywhere. The word echoed in my ears like a gunshot, vulgar, defiant, mine for the first time in years. And hearing him call me “his girl” after it did something to me. Something dangerous. My body betrayed me again. My hips twitched forward, chasing the fullness even as tears of overwhelm pricked my eyes.

I grabbed his wrist, not to push him away this time, but to hold him there, trembling. My breaths came in shallow pants. The truck felt too small and too hot, the air thick with the scent of us, sweat, arousal, and pine from outside drifting through the cracked...