Page 77 of Speed Crush

Then that smile spreads slow across his face. The one that makes me feel like he’s not just looking at me—he’s landing.

“How was your tour?”

I lean against the doorway, towel tucked tight. "Charming. Overpriced. A little too easy to fall for."

He laughs softly, steps closer.

“I missed you.”

I raise a brow. “I was gone for three hours.”

“I know,” he murmurs, stopping right in front of me. “That’s three hours too long.”

His eyes sweep over me—slow, deliberate, full of heat. He reaches for the towel, running one fingertip along the edge of where it meets my collarbone.

I tip my head slightly and ask—soft, but pointed, “I didn't mean to eavesdrop. But who was that on the phone?”

He blinks, surprised by the question, but recovers quickly. His shoulders roll in a shrug, eyes flicking away. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re sponsoring a kid. Aren’t you?”

He lifts one hand to rub the back of his neck. “Just someone who needed help.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I ask as he walks over to the bar for a bottle of water.

“Because it’s not about me.” He smiles.

There’s no boast in his voice. Just quiet conviction. Like doing something good is normal. Like it doesn’t need a headline.

My chest tightens. “You always surprise me,” I whisper.

“You always see me,” he answers.

I glance at him—still across the room, sipping from the bottle like he hadn’t just melted me with those four words. My chest pulls tight. He's done something incredible, and acted like it meant nothing. That kind of humility shouldn't be this hot.

A wild thought flickers through me: all good deeds deserve a reward.

And if he thinks I see him? Well… wait until he sees me.

I let the towel fall.

And then I start walking toward him. Slow. Barefoot. Damp. Bouncing with every step and loving the way his eyes lock on me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.

His breathing changes—deeper, sharper. Controlled, but just barely.

And he doesn’t move.

He watches.

“Noah?” I say softly.

He blinks. “What are you—”

I step right up to him, purring. “Come with me.”

He follows without hesitation. I take his hand, lead him toward the bedroom without saying another word, and when we step over the threshold, I finally stop and turn.

“Sit,” I command, voice low.

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