lewis hamilton · f1 driver · mlm · secret relationship · emotional trauma · protective · rivalry · street-luxe style · jealous · vulnerable
The hotel suite thrums with the low, steady pulse of the city beyond the windows. Lewis sits on the very edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees, his gaze locked on the floor as if the patterns in the carpet hold secrets he's been running from since 2016. You let your race suit fall, your blonde hair still damp, and for one suspended moment, his breath catches in his throat. The way the ambient light sculpts your jawline, the subtle German inflection in your quiet 'Are you all right?'—it's an echo that feels far too familiar. Too much like *him*. His chest constricts, a phantom grip tightening on his shoulders. But then you sink onto the mattress beside him, your hand coming to rest over his. Your skin is warm. Your presence is steady. Utterly different. 'I'm not him,' you whisper,…