We push through the medical center doors, leaving behind the antiseptic smell and fluorescent lighting. The stewards are still huddled somewhere, poring over telemetry data and replay footage, deciding how to handle the crash that stopped my heart mid-beat. I don't care about their verdict. All I care about is the woman walking beside me, miraculously unscathed.
As we step into the corridor, Blair appears like some ghost from a horror movie, her silver eyes bloodshot and wild. Her race suit is half-unzipped, hanging loosely from her trembling frame. Gravel dust still clings to her electric blue hair. She stares at us, no, through us, with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
"Nick," she croaks, her voice barely audible. "You need to come with me."
Ivy's fingers tighten around mine, her body tensing like a coiled spring.
"He's not going anywhere with you," Ivy says, her voice dangerously calm. "Not after what you just pulled on track."
Blair's gaze flickers between us, something desperate and unhinged lurking behind those silver eyes. Concussion, maybe? The way she's swaying slightly, pupils dilated, something's definitely off.
"Please," Blair whispers, taking a shaky step forward. "Nick, you don't understand…"
"I understand perfectly," I cut her off, surprised by the steel in my own voice. "You nearly killed her. You nearly killed yourself."
The race continues somewhere in the background, the distant scream of engines providing an eerie soundtrack to our standoff. Blair opens her mouth to say something else, but a medical officer appears behind her, clipboard in hand.
"Ms. West, we need to complete your evaluation," the woman says firmly.
Blair's shoulders slump in defeat, but her eyes never leave mine, communicating something desperate that I can't, nor want, to decipher. As the medical officer leads her away, she looks back once more, her expression haunted.
"Come on," Ivy murmurs, tugging gently at my hand. "Let's get out of here."
The walk to our trailer feels endless, the paddock a blur of concerned faces and whispered conversations that halt abruptly as we pass. News travels fast in the F1 bubble. By now, everyone has seen the crash footage, formed their opinions, chosen sides.
The moment our trailer door slides shut behind us, something breaks inside me. The fear, the relief, the lingering adrenaline, it all crashes together in a tidal wave I can no longer contain. I spin Ivy around, my hands trembling as they frame her face.
I can't stop myself. My hands move of their own accord, desperate to touch every inch of her, to confirm she's really here, alive and whole. The image of her car flying through the air replays in my mind like a horror film on loop.
"I thought I'd lost you," I whisper, my voice breaking as I pull her against me.
Ivy's eyes soften, understanding flooding her expression as she reads the naked fear on my face. She doesn't resist when I guide her backward toward the bed, her body yielding to my desperate need for connection.
"I'm right here," she murmurs, her fingers already working at the zipper of her race suit. "I'm not going anywhere."
I fumble with my shirt, yanking it over my head with such urgency that I hear a seam rip. My pants follow, kicked away with the same frantic energy. Ivy shimmies out of her race suit, her sports bra and compression shorts joining the growing pile on the floor.
When I push her onto the mattress, she goes willingly, her purple eyes never leaving mine.
"This is embarrassing," she says with a small laugh as I climb over her, reversing our usual positions. "Me on bottom?"
"Stop thinking," I breathe against her lips, pressing my body against hers, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. "Just feel me."
Our mouths crash together with desperate intensity, the kiss deep and hungry. I pour everything into it, my fear, my relief, my overwhelming gratitude that she survived. Her hands slide up my back, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us, just the reassuring heat of her body beneath mine.
"I'm here," she whispers against my mouth. "I'm safe."
Ivy arches beneath me, her body a canvas of strength and vulnerability all at once. She reaches between us, her fingers wrapping around my length with that perfect pressure that makes my breath hitch. The confident smirk I've grown to worship plays across her lips as she positions me at her entrance.
"Show me," she breathes, her voice husky with need as she guides me inside her welcoming heat. "Show me exactly how much you need me."
I gasp as she envelops me completely, the sensation overwhelming in its perfection. Her legs rise, wrapping around my waist in a gentle but unmistakable lock, her ankles crossing at the small of my back.
"Fuck," I whisper, trembling above her as the intimate connection grounds me back to reality. The terror of nearly losing her transforms into desperate passion, my hips moving with instinctive rhythm.
Her purple eyes never leave mine, holding me captive in their gaze as effectively as her legs hold my body against hers.
"I really wasn't…" My voice breaks as emotion threatens to overwhelm me.
"Shhh," she whispers, reaching up to trace my lips with her fingertip. "I'm right here. It's okay."
Her inner muscles tighten around me, drawing a moan from deep in my chest. I drop my forehead to hers, our breath mingling as I lose myself in her. Each thrust is both pleasure and affirmation, she's alive, she's here, she's mine.
Her soft moans fill the trailer, each one sending electric currents through my body. Every sound she makes is like a secret melody composed just for me, growing louder and more desperate with each thrust. The way her breath catches when I hit that perfect spot makes me dizzy with desire.
"Harder," she gasps against my ear, her voice raw and commanding even in submission. "I need to feel you deeper."
I comply immediately, driving into her with renewed intensity. Her body responds beautifully, squirming beneath me as her powerful thighs tighten their grip around my waist.
"Like this?" I pant, adjusting my angle to hit that spot that makes her eyes roll back.
"Yes," she hisses, her fingers digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks. "Just like that."
She pulls my face down to hers again, claiming my mouth in a kiss so deep and possessive it steals my breath. Her tongue slides against mine, exploring, marking her territory even as I move inside her. Between kisses, she whispers against my lips, each word punctuated by a gasp or moan.
"I love you," she breathes, her purple eyes locked on mine with an intensity that's almost frightening. "You're mine, Nick. Only mine."
There's something in her gaze that transcends ordinary passion, something wild and dangerous and completely intoxicating. The way she looks at me makes me feel both treasured and consumed, like I'm the most precious thing she's ever possessed.
"Say it back," she demands, her inner muscles clenching around me in a way that makes coherent thought nearly impossible. "Tell me who you belong to."
"You," I gasp, the word torn from somewhere deep inside me. "I'm yours, Ivy. Only yours."
Her smile is radiant and terrifying all at once, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. She reaches up to grip my face between her hands, holding me so I can't look away.
"I would destroy anyone who tried to take you from me," she whispers, and somehow this declaration of possessive madness is the most erotic thing I've ever heard. "Anyone."
Her words ignite something primal within me. My hips snap forward with renewed purpose, each thrust deeper than the last. I feel her body tensing beneath mine, her back arching off the mattress as her inner walls begin to pulse and contract around me.
"Oh god, Nick!" she cries out, her nails digging crescents into my shoulders.
The sensation of her climaxing around me is overwhelming her silken heat, gripping and releasing in rhythmic waves, drawing me impossibly deeper. I can't hold back the guttural moan that tears from my throat as her body writhes beneath mine, her powerful thighs trembling against my sides.
"Fuck, Ivy, I'm…" I gasp, feeling the pressure building at the base of my spine, white-hot and unstoppable.
Her eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide with pleasure as she continues to shudder through her release. The sight of her coming undone beneath me pushes me over the edge. Heat rushes through me as I bury myself to the hilt, my entire body tensing as I begin to spill inside her.
"I love you!" The words burst from me mid-climax, raw and unfiltered, as waves of pleasure crash through my system.
Even in the throes of her own pleasure, Ivy's lips curve into that predatory smile I adore. Her hands cradle my face as I continue to pulse within her, her thumbs stroking my cheekbones with surprising tenderness.
"Say it again," she whispers, her voice husky with satisfaction.
"I love you," I repeat, the words flowing easier now as aftershocks ripple through both our bodies. "I love you so much it terrifies me."
She pulls me down for a kiss that's surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the desperate coupling of moments before. When we part, her purple eyes are gleaming with something that looks almost like vulnerability.
"I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you," she confesses, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my sweat-slicked back. "It's like you've rewired my brain."
The intensity of our connection overwhelms me, and I collapse against her, my head finding its natural place against her chest. My breathing comes in ragged pants, heart hammering so hard I wonder if she can feel it against her skin. I'm still trembling from the aftershocks of our lovemaking, my body limp with release.
Ivy's arms encircle me, one hand stroking my hair with a loving tenderness while the other traces lazy patterns along my spine. She cradles me against her, my ear pressed to her heartbeat, steady and strong, unlike my own erratic pulse.
"You did such a good job," she murmurs, her voice a velvety purr that vibrates through her chest. "My good boy."
Heat rushes to my face at her words, a strange mixture of embarrassment and pleasure washing over me. I've never responded to praise like this before, but something about the way Ivy says it, possessive yet tender, makes my insides melt.
She presses a kiss to the top of my head, her lips lingering against my hair as she inhales deeply.
Then she sighs, a sound that carries more weight than post-coital contentment should allow.
"Nick," she says softly, her fingers still playing with my hair. "I need to tell you something about what happened on track today. About why Blair crashed into me."
I tense immediately, trying to push myself up to see her face, but her arms tighten around me, keeping me pressed against her chest.
"I think she tried to kill me," Ivy states with such calm detachment that for a moment I wonder if I've misheard her.
"What?" I gasp, struggling again to look at her, but she maintains her gentle prison, fingers massaging soothing circles at the nape of my neck.
"Stay here," she whispers. "I like holding you like this."
What unsettles me most isn't her revelation, as shocking as it is, but rather her tone. There's no anger, no outrage, just a clinical certainty that borders on resignation. She sounds like someone discussing a slightly inconvenient weather forecast rather than an attempted murder.
"How do you know?" I ask, my voice muffled against her skin. "Are you sure it wasn't just aggressive racing gone wrong?"
Ivy's chest rises and falls with another deep breath. "Before the race, I said something to her. Something that... upset her."
A cold feeling spreads through my stomach. "What did you say?"
Ivy's fingers continue their gentle caress in my hair, almost hypnotic, as if trying to soften the blow of her next words.
"I wanted her angry," she says softly. "I thought she'd race better that way. And you had told me before Suzuka that you wanted me to ruin her, remember?"
My stomach drops. I do remember saying that, but it was purely to motivate Ivy, to make her feel like we were a team against Blair. I hadn't actually meant for her to destroy Blair's psyche. Just a bit of competitive trash talk that now feels incredibly reckless.
"So I told her about us," Ivy continues, her voice steady. "About how we fell in love. About our first time together."
My heart plummets into my stomach, a sick feeling spreading through me. "You didn't tell her the whole truth, right?" The question comes out as a whisper, dread building with every heartbeat.
Ivy shifts beneath me, and I can feel a slight tension in her body that wasn't there before. "I told her I raped you."
The words hang in the air like toxic gas. I pull away from her embrace, finally breaking free to look at her face. Her expression is oddly neutral, those purple eyes watching me carefully.
I let out a long, heavy sigh that seems to drain every ounce of energy from my body. My hand comes up to rub my forehead as I process what she's just admitted.
"Jesus Christ, Ivy," I finally manage, my voice hollow. "No wonder she tried to kill you. She thinks you're holding me hostage or something."
I sit up abruptly, pulling away from Ivy completely. Anger flares in my chest, hot and sudden.
"What the hell were you thinking?" I snap, running a hand through my hair. "That wasn't just some mind game, Ivy. That was our beginning. Our story. It was private, special, and you fed it to her like ammunition!"
Ivy sits up, too, pulling the sheet to cover her chest, her expression hardening. "She'll never be able to prove it. If she goes to the press with that story, I'll just say she's lying. You can deny it, too."
"That's not the point!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "You can't just…" I stop, taking a deep breath to collect myself, unable to really stay mad at Ivy. "And second, I still can't believe she actually tried to fucking kill you over it. Like, literal attempted murder on an international broadcast."
Ivy's face softens slightly. "I know. Complete fuck up on my part. I wanted her angry enough to be at her best, to give me a real challenge. Instead, she's acting like some sort of avenging angel." She shakes her head, almost looking impressed. "I didn't think she had it in her."
A cold thought strikes me. "Did anyone else hear you tell her that?"
"No, of course not." Ivy reaches for me, her fingers brushing against my arm. "We were alone on the grid. Everyone else was busy with pre-race preparations."
Relief washes through me as I lean into her touch, allowing her to pull me back into her embrace. I wrap my arms around her tightly, burying my face in her neck.
"Thank god," I whisper against her skin. "Even if the worst happens, even if this somehow gets out and you get canceled by the entire internet, I'm staying right here. You know that, right?"
Ivy laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest and against mine. Her fingers thread through my hair as she presses a kiss to my temple.
"My loyal boy," she murmurs, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "I don't deserve you."
"You deserve every bit of me," I say, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. "But we need to fix this. We can't let Blair walk around thinking you actually assaulted me."
Ivy's eyebrows shoot up, surprise flickering across her face. "So what, we're going to lie to your ex just to make her feel better?" Her tone carries a hint of incredulity, like I've suggested something completely absurd.
I fix her with the hardest stare I can muster, letting my disapproval radiate through every pore.
"Fine," she sighs, shoulders dropping slightly in resignation. "Alright, alright."
She reaches for me, pulling me back against her chest, her lips brushing my ear as she whispers, "You're being a real brat today, you know that?"
"It's Brat Summer." I say with complete conviction.
"It's fucking April, Nick."