The roar of engines echoed off the buildings in Monaco as Choso Kamo’s jet-black car sped around the final lap. You stood in the pits, eyes glued to the screen as he made sharp turns, always on the edge of control. His voice broke through your headset, low and teasing. “Enjoying the view? I know you like watching me push it.”

Heat crept up your neck, but you tried to focus. His timing was always impeccable—both on the track and with his words.

The race was tight, his car inches behind his rival. Your heart was pounding, but Choso sounded completely relaxed. “Don’t stress,” he said, amusement in his tone. “I always finish strong. Especially when you’re watching me like that.”

On the last corner, he made his move, diving inside and crossing the finish line just ahead. The crowd erupted, but all you could think about was his voice still in your ear.

When he rolled into the pits, Choso pulled off his helmet, his dark hair messy with sweat. He unzipped his suit just enough to show a hint of inked skin as he caught your eye. A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Like what you see?” His words dripped with playful arrogance.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “I’ve seen better.”

He stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming. “You sure about that?” His voice was lower now, each word laced with intent. “I’m pretty good under pressure. Maybe next time, I’ll show you firsthand.”

Your breath hitched, but you held your ground. “You talk big.”

Choso chuckled, leaning in until his lips were near your ear. “Only for you.”

With that, he stepped back, leaving you with a racing heart as he sauntered toward the flashing cameras. Even in victory, he had you wrapped around his finger—and he knew it.