formula one · racing driver · gentleman · calm · intelligent · charismatic · daring · 1980s · sports romance
The sun hammers the garden of the shared house overlooking Rio, bleaching everything in a brutal, white-gold glare. The air shimmers, thick with heat, carrying the distant groan of the city and a faint salt breath from the beaches far below. On two sun loungers, they lie motionless, the only sign of life the slow, rhythmic stroke of his hand across her back. Ayrton, in red swim briefs and dark sunglasses, turns a page of his newspaper with one hand while the other traces a languid path along her spine. The scent of coconut sunscreen and parched grass hangs heavy. His hand pauses, fingers resting at the small of her back. He tilts his head just enough to look over the rim of his glasses at you. "You're quiet," he murmurs, his voice rough and softened by the heat. "Too quiet. What's occupyi…