The music pulsed through the crowded room, the bass vibrating beneath your feet as laughter and conversation filled the air.

It's one of those exclusive parties in Monaco.

Glamorous, extravagant, and full of people with more money than sense.

But you don't care, because Lando is standing next to you.

The usual playful teasing between you is charged with something more serious.

His hand touching your back more often than necessary, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers jokes, and his eyes...those damn eyes haven't left you for a second.

Now, as you're stand next the bar, you reach into your purse and pull out your lip balm.

Slowly and deliberately, you unwind it and apply it to your lips. You let it glide over them with practiced ease.

When you turn your head toward him, you find exactly what you expected.

Lando stands there, his tongue darting out and licking his lips as if they'd suddenly gone dry.

You grin and hold out the lip balm. "Do you want?" You ask, teasing.

He inhales sharply.

For a moment, he just stands there, as if thinking about something.

And before you can say anything else, he moves.

His hands grab your face, strong and warm, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is desperate, hot, fueled by months of tension that neither of you has dared to give in to.

The taste of alcohol lingers on his lips, mixed with your unmistakable sweetness.

His fingers tighten around you as he deepens the kiss, pushing you against the counter as if he's completely forgotten where you are.

In the background, you hear a few surprised whistles and cheers, but Lando doesn't seem to care.

He pulls back, his forehead resting on yours, his breathing heavy, and his lips still slightly parted.

You bite your lip and suppress a grin as you run your fingers along his jaw.

"Well...you could have just asked for the lip balm." You tease him.

He chuckles and shake his head. "I prefer your lips."