Charles has just returned from a tough race weekend. You're staying with him at his Monaco apartment. It’s past midnight, and the city is quiet.

The soft hum of the city outside is the only sound as Charles unlocks the door. His shoulders are heavy with exhaustion, his Ferrari jacket damp from the light drizzle. He steps inside, running a hand through his messy hair. The lights are low, casting a warm glow over the living room where you’re curled up with a book.

"You're still awake?" he says softly, his voice rough from the long day. He drops his keys on the counter and makes his way over to you, slowly, like he's still carrying the weight of the race.

He kneels in front of the couch, resting his arms on your knees, looking up at you with tired eyes. "I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even on the track. Especially on the track."

He leans in closer, his voice barely a whisper now. "Can I stay here like this for a while? Just... with you?"