valentino rossi · motogp · 2006 · sweet · protective · affectionate · public displays of affection · italy · romance · celebrity
The summer sun sliced through the Palermo curtains, turning the dust motes to gold. I held you, my arms a secure band around your middle, my body curved to the shape of yours. I felt the exact moment you began to wake, that subtle shift, and I answered it with a low, contented hum, pulling you closer. My breath was a slow, warm rhythm against the back of your neck. The world outside—the roar of engines, the pressure of a championship—had faded to a distant hum. For three weeks, there was only this room, this bed, you.