Page 1

Chapter 1

Wet Dream

Noah

H er body ride me like a dream—literally.

Thighs locked around my waist, ass bouncing against my lap, breasts spilling out of a tank top as she moves—like she knows exactly how to grind out every drop of sanity I have left.

A hot welcoming mess for me. And I’m buried deep, desperate for her.

Soft everywhere I want to grip. Full lips, flushed skin, curves that bounce when I slam into her.

She cries out, arching into it. Head tossed back. Lips parted. The kind of woman who doesn’t hold back. Who wants everything.

Not one sharp edge. Not one bony angle.

She’s nothing like the women I’m used to in my world—the hollow-cheeked, salad-picking, “don’t touch my hair” kind of perfect.

Models. PR girls. Grid-side trophy dates with waists the size of my forearm and smiles that don’t reach their eyes.

But her?

She’s a feast. A damn storm.

And when she clenches around me, when I feel her hit that edge—

I let go. Hard.

Chest straining. Muscles locked. Her name on my tongue—

Only, I don’t even know her name.

I bolt upright, breaths ragged, sheets tangled, boxers soaked.

Wet dream. At twenty-eight.

Seriously?

I drop back into the pillow and stare at the ceiling.

“Perfect,” I mutter, palming the ache still thudding between my legs.

Eight Hours Later – Sugar Mill Lofts, Cedar Falls

I glance up at the historic brick building in front of me. Candy Jar, Sugar Mill Lofts. Cute names.

I've heard all about this place over the years—the kitchen where Lily built her empire, and the upstairs lofts she carved into modern escapes she rents out to tourists.

Levi, my college roommate, told me Candy Jar was where he first met Lily in their teens—a meet-cute wrapped in sugar and sarcasm.

Long before it became the heart of the town, it was just the place where he fell hard for his best friend.

Even back then, in our dorms, Lily was always showing up in our late-night chats—former Wall Street trader who left the game to run a candy empire. She’s brilliant, cutthroat, totally out of Levi’s league.

I’ve met her plenty of times over the years, and I was best man at their wedding two years ago. She's sharp, hilarious, a little terrifying—and exactly perfect for him.

I’m happy for them. Maybe a little envious, too.

There’s something about witnessing your college roommate build a life like that—homegrown success, married to the love of his life, having a successful career comeback in NHL, and living in a postcard town like this.

Seeing them together, this solid partnership, spark a pang of something unfamiliar in me.

Not envy exactly, but a yearning for that kind of... rootedness. And a fierce, sudden protectiveness for them, for their happiness.

And suddenly, my own world of podiums and private jets feels a little... hollow. Shiny on the surface, but nothing solid underneath, especially with no one to share it with.

Which brings me here. At Sugar Mill Lofts, where I’ll be crashing for the next few weeks while I play coach for the town’s first winter go-kart camp during my precious off-season.

Coaching kids how to take corners in a kart instead of apexes in a Formula One car. It's a downgrade in horsepower, sure—but Levi's my guy, and I owed him one.

Plus, who doesn’t want to spend their off-season in Cedar Falls? The air bites with a clean, pine-scented cold that sting your lungs good. Every breath frosts in the air, and the silence is so thick, you can almost taste the snow.

A town built inside a snow globe, alright. And I’m about to shake things up.

“Noah! You're here!” I see Lily’s head poking out of the second-floor window.

“I think I am.” I give her a big smile. “Are you spying on all your tenants, or just the hot ones?’

Her laugh echoes down the snowy street. “Please. You’re the only one who still thinks he’s hot in December.”

“Ouch.” I grin. “You wound me.”

She disappears from the window and reappears moments later at the front door, cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Noah Verelli,” she says, grinning like she’s about to roast me alive. “The prodigal speedster.”

I drop my duffel and step into her hug. She smells like chocolate and feels twice as warm in this cold.

“You always answer the door this charming?” I murmur.

“Only for guests who arrive exactly thirty-one minutes late.”

“I had a situation.”

“Oh?”

“Jet lag. Ego bruising. Spontaneous snowfall. Pick one.”

She laughs and pulls back. “Come on. Levi’s in the kitchen, pretending he knows how to use a mandolin without losing a finger.”

I follow her through the door, past the shelves of glass jars and polished marble counters of Candy Jar’s back room.

“Wow, the place smells like caramel and ambition, Lily.”

She rolls her eyes at me and gives me a swat on the arm. “Welcome to my confectionery kingdom, where all the magic happens.”

Lily gestures around the room. “We upgraded everything last spring—double-deck ovens, floor-to-ceiling freezers, bigger mixers, new layout. Now we can handle both national output and custom creations—delivering sweetness without the drama of burnt toffee!"

We turn a corner and I see Levi’s over the stove, tossing something in a skillet with exaggerated confidence.

He’s wearing a black tee stretched across his shoulders, hockey-scarred knuckles gripping a wooden spoon like a weapon. I must say, he and Lily make a beautiful couple.

He looks up when he hears us. “Look what the jet dragged in.”

“Look who’s pretending he can cook,” I fire back, setting my coat on the counter.

“Excuse you, this Eggplant Parmigiana is going to be a legend.”

“In what country?”

Lily breezes past me to taste-test from the casserole pan. “Mmm. He’s not wrong.”

Levi smirks. “See? That’s how I knew she was the one—first time she moaned like that; it was over my cooking.”

Lily snorts. “It was over your abs, and you know it.”

I cringe. “Okay, let's cool it with the heart-eyes and honeymoon flashbacks. I don’t want to choke on the love fumes.”

She smirks. “Okay, F1, you hungry or just here to flex your cheekbones?”

“Little of both.”

Levi dishes up three bowls and slides them onto the counter. We gather around like it’s old times, only now there’s no dorm, no ramen, no vodka in sports bottles.

“So,” Levi says, dropping into the conversation as I take the first bite, “you ready to be our celebrity attraction?”

“Define ready.”

Lily gives me a knowing smile. “Mega Max Velocity Park opens in three days. You’re going to be the shiny thing we dangle in front of the press.”

I feign ignorance and raise a brow. “You promised peace and obscurity.”

Levi laughs. “You get that after the grand opening, Noah. Right now? We need a little F1 sparkle.”

“I’ll give you sparkle,” I mutter, then glance at Lily. “This is really happening? Mega Max Velocity Park. One track. One mile. No limits. Rain, Snow or Shine. Full mile track?”

“Yup! I’m impressed you did your homework with the marketing slogans! Yes, it's all built and it's beautiful,” she says gleefully. “Thanks to a certain goalie-turned-gold digger.”

I smirk. “I see what you did there with the gold pun.”

“So where exactly was this famous Narnia door, the source of all these fortune?” I ask, glancing around the amazing commercial kitchen.

“Right there, where our kitchen expansion starts. Knock down the walls, from the commercial sink all the way to the back wall!”

“Wow… And you found enough gold to build this huge project for the city! It’s really incredible.” I marvel.

Lily and Levi both chime in, nearly in sync. “It’s going to be the biggest change Cedar Falls has seen in generations,” Lily says, gesturing with her fork.

Levi adds, “It’s not just a track—it’s the kind of thing that’ll keep this town on the map.”

Lily nods. “Jobs, events, tourism—it’s a real economic engine.”

I smirk. “Still can't believe you two pulled a fantasy novel plot twist and funded a multi-million dollars go-kart park with it.”

Levi shrugs, “It’s more than a novelty indoor go-kart racetrack, Noah. It’s the thing that will bring people together, create jobs, and actually give kids around here something to do other than loiter outside the gas station. And it’s not just the kids. We want to attract official events, too.”

Lily smiles and beams at me. “And you—you’re the spark. The big draw. The cherry on top.”

“Yes, my friend,” Levi finishes, “You'll be the opening act that’ll light the whole thing up.”

I shake my head, “I’m still getting used to the idea that I am really here, in your beloved town, guys.”

“You’ll love our town too, Noah,” Levi says, lifting his beer with a smirk. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find something precious here as well.”

I crack a smile and raise my glass with his.

Precious isn’t even in my vocabulary. But maybe... maybe it is time to learn a new language.

With food, this good and company this easy, maybe a little treasure of my own wouldn’t be the worst thing.

A few weeks off the grid after Mega Max Velocity Park Grand Opening? Fishing, camping, even sky-diving. Honestly, it's already starting to feel like the smartest move I’ve made for my off-season schedule.

Lily sets her knife down and looks at me earnestly. “Thanks again for agreeing to help out with the indoor winter camp, Noah. I mean, you’re a literal Formula One world champion—international circuits, champagne podiums, the whole glamorous package. And now you're here, helping us launch our Mega Max and then volunteering to coach at its first event, a winter go-kart camp for the older teens.”

“Yeah, buddy. I really appreciate you spending your off-season here,” Levi pats me on my back. “The whole town's been waiting for this. We wanted someone the older kids could actually learn from—and they’re excited as hell to have a real Formula One driver coaching them.”

I nod. “Go-karts are where it all begins. One of these kids could be the next Formula One driver. And I’ll be honored to be the one who inspire him or her.”

Lily tilts her head. “Did you start with go-karts too?”

"Yeah. I was ten. Tiny outdoor track just outside Milan—my parents flew us in to see where my grandfather used to race. The sound of the engine, the way the kart responded—I was hooked. After that, they basically dropped me off at that track for the next two summers while they worked in California. I mean… I had the best time. It was just me, the karts, and the mechanics. I didn’t mind."

I glance at Levi. “Back then, it was just karting—no data feeds, no engineers watching throttle traces from halfway across the world. Just me, the kart, and whatever instinct I had. That’s what I loved. What got me hooked—long before F1 ever entered the picture.”

“And now?” Levi asks.

"Well, F1 racing is another different animal altogether. We've got wind tunnels, tire degradation, battery management systems, energy recovery systems, DRS zones, complex aerodynamics, so on and so forth."

“But still, I’m very curious to check out your modern, indoor go-kart facility." I say.

Levi leans forward. “You still think about the F1 classics?”

I pause, a wistful smile tugging at my lips.

“Every time I get behind the wheel,” I admit.

"Honestly, I miss the sexy roar of a proper V12. Nothing sounds like it. And now, with the shift towards electric, that visceral growl is becoming a thing of the past."

“Back then, the engine sang. Now it hums politely. Efficient, quiet. A tad boring.”

Lily grins. “You’re sound like an old man at twenty-eight.”

“Careful,” I warn. “Next thing you know, I’ll be rambling about how fuel mapping used to be an art form before the algorithms took over.”

“Please don’t,” Levi mutters into his glass.

Lily laughs. “Anyway—fair warning. The media is sniffing around about you. We tried to keep it focused about the track, low-key, but…”

“...you invited Noah Verelli, Formula One world champion,” I finish. “Yeah, I get it. Low-key was never really in the cards. But hey, that’s kind of the point of launching the world’s first one-mile indoor kart track.”

“We appreciate it, Noah. Really.”

"Buddy," Levi adds, "after the Grand Opening appearance, you'll have the whole go-kart camp to ease into small-town life. Fishing. Snowfall. Bowling. And maybe a chance to sway a population that still thinks I'm the town celebrity—when they get a load of you."

“Don't listen to Levi,” Lily grins. “You, Noah Verelli, are all everyone’s been talking about lately.”

I raise a brow. “You mean the town knows who I am?”

“The whole town’s pretty invested in making Mega Max a success, so I’m sure they’ve done their research on who’s who. More importantly, they know you drive fast, win big, and look good doing it,” she says.

“And they’re very excited to meet you,” Levi adds, deadpan. “Especially Amy Bello, my physiotherapist. She asked if you’re single. She also asked if you moisturize.”

“Tell her I exfoliate, too,” I say with a grin.

They laugh. The kind that fills the space like it belongs there.

I finish my eggplant parm dinner, lean back in my chair, and exhale slowly.

Yeah.

This break might not be so bad after all.

Later that night, restless and wired from too much nostalgia and eggplant, I drive back out. Snow’s lighter now—just flurries spinning under the streetlamps.

Cedar Falls is quiet. The kind of stillness that makes a man’s mind wander.

From the distance, Mega Max is glowing—massive and modern with lights like it’s alive.

The glass-paneled exterior catches the snowflakes like a prism, and through the walls, I can see the faint outlines of ramps and rails, curves, and climbs.

Four tracks. Multiple levels. Like someone took a video game and dropped it into real life.

They must’ve left the lights on in the garage after prep for the Grand Opening.

As I park my rental in front of the behemoth building, I can't help but marvel at its sheer size and modern design.

It’s not just a go-kart facility. It’s going to be a cathedral for speed junkies.

And even after everything I’ve seen on the F1 circuit... this makes my palms itch in the best way.

I tell myself I’m just checking in—getting a feel for the place. But really, I just need to move.

Burn off the twitch in my chest. Find something solid to grip.

I step into the side bay. The heat’s on low, humming through the ducts.

The smell hits first—fresh rubber, warm plastic, and that faint electric charge you only get from high-torque motors and new track polish. Oh, how I missed the new track smell.

I round the corner past a stack of tires—and stop.

There’s sound and movement in the far garage where I see a number of parked karts.

Moaning.

Low. Rhythmic. Obvious. The kind of sound that says they’re not just breaking in the track—they’re christening it.

So, there’s at least one adventurous couple in sweet little Cedar Falls. Good for them.

I was still chuckling when I see her.

She’s crouched behind a kart about thirty feet from me. Hoodie pulled tight, frozen in place like she’s walked in on something she really didn’t mean to see.

And from the way she’s clutching that rag like it might save her soul, she looks like she’s hoping she can teleport out of there.

At first, I think she’s a kid—tiny frame, doesn’t look to be barely up to my shoulder, hidden in the shadows, distracted by the "live" action going on.

Then she shifts, and the hoodie stretches over a silhouette built to tempt. Soft hips. A full chest. Woman, not girl.

Legs tucked neatly beneath her, hips curved. A thick braid slipping forward over one shoulder.

Small frame or not—there’s no mistaking the shape beneath the fabric. And absolutely no chance I’m ignoring it.

I can’t see her face yet. At least, not until she moves again. Just enough for the overhead light to catch her profile.

A flash of cheek, the bow of her full lips, the edge of something delicate, stubborn, and stunning.

And suddenly I want more. Not just a better look—I want to know what she sounds like when she says my name.

My pulse kicks.

She lifts a hand to push the braid back but pauses halfway, frozen.

I can almost see her dilemma—bolt for the exit and risk interrupting the couple mid-lap of their Animal Kingdom routine, right here in the temple of speed, or stay frozen and hope invisibility’s a real option.

I snigger quietly. Sweet Cedar Falls, you really do deliver.

One-part late-night romance, one-part thriller. Maybe, a mystery too if I keep checking her out.

I mean, who is she?

So, I step forward—slow, quiet, instinct in overdrive.

I don’t want to spook her, but I can’t stay back either. Something about her has me locked in.

Like she’s all heat and hesitation in a hoodie.

Maybe that’s more of my imagination. Doesn’t matter.

But there’s certainly a pull. A slow, magnetic draw.

Which, I know—makes me sound like a stalker with a nice jawline. And maybe I am.

Because the way she looks? Like her whole body’s at war with itself—mortified, turned on, trying to vanish?

It’s the hottest thing I’ve seen off the track in a long time.

Before I even know her name, before I see the color of her eyes or hear her voice—something about her already has me hooked. It wasn't purely physical, not entirely. I just know I’m already drawn in.

I haven’t been this keyed up in months.

Maybe it’s the dream from this morning—the kind that scrambles my wiring and doesn’t let go. But whatever it is, I’m tingling. Tight.

And this beautiful stranger crouched in the shadows—feels like the only way to ground this live wire energy surging through me.