Page 65 of Speed Crush

Noah leans in and kisses my face—gentle, like a vow.

He kisses the corner of my mouth, then rests his forehead lightly to mine. His eyes find mine—steady, searching, like he’s making sure I really see him.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he says, voice low and warm. “I know how much it took for you to come to me. I don’t take that lightly.”

He doesn’t make it sound fragile. He makes it sound sacred. Like he sees my courage, not my fear.

“You’re still you, June. And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

And just like that, I stop bracing for the fall.

Because I’ve already landed. Not in fear. Not in doubt. But in him.

And for the first time, I believe this could be more than a fling.

I feel chosen. Wanted. Steady in a way I didn’t know I could—until now.

Chapter 12

Parental Consent

Noah

Juneisinthepassenger side of my car, arms wrapped around herself, lips swollen from what we just did.

All I can do is look at her.

Cedar Falls is quiet tonight. The kind of stillness you feel in your chest. Houses glowing with string lights, wreaths on every door. Somewhere, someone’s playing an old Christmas carol, and it drifts through the street like the soundtrack of a perfect, romantic movie.

"Cold?" I ask, voice softer than I mean it.

She shakes her head. “No. Just… full.”

“Full?” I blink, misunderstanding. “You’re still feeling it…?”

That makes her snort softly. “Not like that.”

She glances over, her expression unreadable. “Full, like… Of feelings. Thoughts. I don't know.” Her smile is small. Barely there.

I nod, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Yeah. Same.”

I start driving. The silence stretches for a few beats. The heater hums. The town rolls by outside the windshield in soft shadows and Christmas lights. It feels like the world’s holding its breath for us.

When I finally pull in front of her place, I don’t park right away. Just idle in front of June’s family auto shop, Mack’s garage—Cedar Crest Customs.

The sign over the bay doors looks new and professional. The windows glow faintly from a back office light someone forgot to switch off. Or was left on for June.

It feels settled and serene, filled with the weight of this moment—of her life. Her roots. Her people. Her world.

I should be tired. Wrung out. At least a little smug.

Instead, my chest feels tight in a way I’ve never felt after sex.

I’ve been with other women, more than I care to count. But the intimacy I felt with June? It lingers, unfaded, even now. If anything, it’s blooming and surging as my body remembers every breath she took. The way her eyes held mine. How she trembled—not from nerves, but from letting me in.

And she did. She let me in.

The question I asked, about trust… she has more than shown me her answer. I didn’t earn it lightly. I’m still carrying it like something sacred.

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