I laughed at that and pulled her closer, gripping her ass. Goose bumps dotted her flesh, so I asked, “You cold?”

“A little,” she admitted.

I reached for my discarded bomber jacket, draping it over her back.

“Grayson Crowne is very kind,” she mused, playing with the golden strands of hair covering my eyes. “And attentive. And most certainly not a playboy.”

“Good thing no one will believe you.”

She giggled, pressing her lips between my pecs, trying to hide it. I swallowed a groan—fuck, that noise was almost as addicting as her moans.

“Are you upset I joked about your virginity?” she asked quietly after a moment. “I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

“Like some pussy?”

She coughed. “I wouldn’t ever say that.”

“I fucking love it, Snitch. Never stop joking with me. The world puts so much weight on the thing. It’s so serious for whatever stupid fucking reason. You were the only one to laugh with me.”

After a moment, she settled her hands on my chest, her chin on them, watching me with those big soul-searing mossy eyes. I think they’re my favorite part of her, because like her, they betrayed so much. Strength. Vulnerability. Fear. Courage. Right now, they’re slightly pinched, like she wanted to say something.

“Speak, Snitch.”

“The sun is coming up,” she said quietly.

I glanced out the window, where the day smudged the night a blue gray.

“And?”

She looked down, tracing circles on my bare skin. I gripped her chin, lifting her gaze back to mine. I’d gotten so fucking addicted to her stare. Big as walnuts, deeper than the ocean.

“I can’t be forgotten,” she said. “I can’t be left behind again.”

I swiped my thumb back and forth across her softly pointed chin. “Not gonna happen, little nun. That would be like forgetting the moon.”

She furrowed her brow, like what I’d said bothered her, but she didn’t say anything.

“You are the only one in my life I can trust. The only one who has actually been honest with me. I’m never letting you go, Story.”

Her brows caved. “I’m no different than those girls who lied to you.”

She was light-years away from them, from everyone I’d ever known. She’s honest. She’s quiet but strong. She doesn’t hide from her darkness.

I knew in my fucking bones this was it. Story is my girl. She’s it.

I love her. Fuck. I’ve been in love with her.

I pulled her by the wrist back against my chest, holding her tightly. “You’re the only person in my life who’s ever been honest with me, Story.”

She tensed.