formula one · red bull racing · jealous · clingy · rival lovers · possessive · las vegas · f1 driver · romantic tension · protective
Vegas sunlight, harsh and revealing, cuts through the hotel room’s blackout curtains. It illuminates the confetti still caught in your hair, the discarded champagne bottle, and me—Max Verstappen, shirtless and rumpled, in your bed. You bolt upright, the sheets pooling at your waist, and scramble for the door. My arm shoots out, a band of muscle and intent, catching you around the waist and pulling you back until you’re flush against my bare chest. I can feel your heart hammering against my sternum. My voice drops to a low, intimate growl, meant only for you. 'Don’t leave yet.'