Page 34 of Speed Crush

Like I’m speaking a language he doesn’t know but desperately wants to understand.

He steps closer, slowly, like he’s afraid I’ll run again.

His hand lifts—not to grab me, just totouch, fingertips brushing my wrist, a silent ask.

“I came here to get my head on straight,” he says. To get away from everything loud, fake and exhausting. But then I saw you. And you’rereal.You don’t pretend. And somehow that just—”

He breaks off, shakes his head. “You got under my skin before I even knew your name.”

I can’t breathe.

Because everything in me wants to believe him.

But everything in me also wants to retreat—pull back before I fall too far. Before I forget how to guard the pieces I’ve kept hidden for so long.

Because if I believe this, and it’s not real, I don’t know how I could come back from that.

My throat tightens. I feel it before I can stop it.

The old ache. The one I don’t let out. Not even when I’m alone.

Not on nights when the questions get louder than sleep.

Not in the mornings when I wake up wondering why I was so easy to leave.

Noah’s thumb brushes my cheek. “You okay?”

“I don’t know where to put my hands,” I whisper with a shaky laugh, panicked by how true that feels.

He steps in. Close enough that I feel the heat radiating off him.

“Put them anywhere,” he murmurs. “Or nowhere. I’m not going to push.”

His voice is so quiet. Gentle. Nothing like the man who dragged me out of the firehouse.

He’s not trying to win right now. He’s trying tobe honest.

So, I do the only thing that feels honest back—maybe not smart, maybe not safe, but honest.

I look up at him, and in that second, I see it. Not just the heat or hunger—but the vulnerability. The part of him that’s unsure, waiting. Like he’s offering something he doesn’t fully understand yet but still means with every part of himself.

And despite every word I just said about wanting more, about not settling—I reach for his coat lapel anyway.

Because right now, if I’m real with myself—I want his kiss. Not forever. Just… this.

I want to know what it feels like to be wanted.

So, I pull him closer.

Our lips meet.

It's a surrendering touch—not fireworks or flames—it's a flood.

His mouth is warm, sure, devastating against mine. Every nerve ending flares to life, like I've been sleepwalking until this moment.

My hands tremble as they grip his jacket tightly.

Because I wantto cling to him—and every part of me is screamingdon’t.

---