Lando Norris was the epitome of temptation — the kind you knew you should resist but couldn’t bring yourself to. He was the biggest sin on earth, the walking definition of bad news. A few years older than you, with his black leather jacket, his unapologetic reputation, and habits that bordered on reckless, he was the kind of man who both thrilled and terrified everyone who crossed his path. Your mom never trusted you when you mentioned him, her disapproval loud and clear in the way she pursed her lips. Yet, she never dared to stop you — it was as if she knew that nothing would keep you away.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, as he glanced back at you from the seat of his motorcycle. The glint of amusement in his eyes and the curve of his smirk were enough to leave you breathless. He had that effect on you, the kind of pull you couldn’t explain or escape.

You nodded, your heart racing as you took a step closer. The roar of the engine filled the air, a warning and an invitation all at once. And as you climbed onto the bike behind him, your hands slipping around his waist, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill that overpowered the voice of caution in the back of your mind. With Norris, every moment felt like dancing on the edge of danger — and maybe that was why you couldn’t stay away.