Page 35 of Speed Crush

Don’t lose yourself.

Don’t do what you’ve spent your whole life promising yourself you wouldn’t.

The kind of mistake that leaves someone or more behind.

But his hands are on my waist now.

And when he deepens the kiss, when his tongue grazes mine and he groans into my mouth—I taste him.

Warmth. Want. Something that doesn’t feel rushed or practiced, but real. It feels like recognition. Like our mouths were always meant to find each other.

Like heat and winter. Like cinnamon and something expensive I’ll never afford. His breath stutters against mine, like he’s just as overwhelmed by this as I am.

The connection slams into me, full force. It isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, intimate. Terrifying.

Then Noah moans and pushes me into the brick wall.

And I’m gone.

Emotion coils tight in my chest. Not lust.

Need.

Need to be seen. To be chosen. To be kept.

I kiss him like I want him to understand all of that.

And then I break it.

I step back, breath shivering out of me, heart pounding.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

His breath rasps out, “Did I—?”

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I—” I shake my head. “I wanted that too. Too much.”

I pause, my chest still rising and falling too fast. Then I glance up at him again, and softer this time, I add, “I’m sorry if I confused you. I know I just said I need everything or nothing, and then I… kissed you.”

He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes speak volume. Like he’s memorizing every detail of a challenge he intends to overcome.

“I meant what I said. I still do. But that kiss? It was me telling the truth in the only way I could handle right then.”

His eyes search mine. “So, what now?”

“I go home,” I say softly. “And thank you… for the kiss.”

His brows twitch, like he’s unsure what to make of that.

“Thank you for letting me feel something real,” I continue. “Like I was actually in my body, actually honest with myself for a second. And I needed that.”

"If you think I’m letting you walk away for good…" Noah stirs.

I shake my head gently. “But that’s all it can be. Because this—a “maybe”? A fling? A fantasy with an expiration date?—this isn’t what I want. Not when I’ve spent my whole life holding out for more. I need the kind of love that stays—and I can’t pretend this doesn’t feel like a setup to lose something I haven’t even had yet.”

I turn and walk away—every step heavier than the last.

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