by Sadie Black
"We're not walking, are we?" Ciara chose a pair of canvas sneakers over the heels she preferred, but even so, walking the streets didn't sound like a thrilling time. If transportation was an issue, she'd gladly pay for a cab if it meant they wouldn't have to wander the streets late at night. New York was a safe place, but Ciara wasn't sure she trusted it that much just yet. Not when she was so new to the area.
"Trust me," was all Luka said. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and turned his head in the same direction. The message was clear: let's go. No explanations were offered, no assurance given — either Ciara trusted him, or they'd part ways. If she wanted the exposé to go smoothly, she'd have to take a leap of faith.
Luka hitched an eyebrow and turned in the direction he'd gestured. Hands shoved into his pockets, he headed for the parking area. Without a word, Ciara followed.
Luxury cars were paired with outdated rust boxes in the lot, and she tried to locate Luka's ride. Still they walked. And as they covered more ground, the destination became clear. Luka hadn't lied about not bringing a car, because he'd brought a motorcycle.
The vehicle shone like he stole it off the lot. Crisp tail pipes curved up to meet the massive engine. Silver handlebars ending in black grips fitted with rear view mirrors were tilted just slightly to the side, tire askew. Even from a distance Ciara could tell it was no modified scooter — this was the real deal. Powerful, expensive, and dangerous.
"You're kidding," she gasped as Luka honed in on the hog.
"I need to know you trust me."
There were other ways to gain trust than to allow him to gamble her life on a bike. Ciara stopped in her tracks a good six feet from Luka's ride, as though approaching it would jeopardize her life.
"Why don't I do something equally crazy, but, you know, less likely to kill me? Would you like my credit card information? My SSN? How about I name you as recipient to my life insurance policy, and we call it a day?"
Without a protection between a body and the hard street, it was no wonder why so many people died on bikes. And she was supposed to trust other motorists to see them at night?
"That's exactly why we're doing this," Luka said. "Since I've known you, it's always been about business. Since the coffee incident, every time I see you, you're caught up in work. You're so serious. And the one time I started to lower those walls down and get at the real Ciara, you shut me down. Told me you had to stop. So I want to see what the real you is like. I want to know what happens when I take you out of your comfort zone and make you live. I want to see what you have to offer."
The way he turned to speak to her sent her heart into her throat. For a moment, all Ciara could do was look at him under the moonlight. The shadow of his nose played across his skin, eyes burning with passion and life like two fiery, earthy opals. Dressed as he was in his leather and jeans, he was gorgeous. The energy that Luka had was different when he looked like this, and she wondered if it had to do with the change of scenery, or if she brought it out in him. Ciara selfishly preferred to think the latter.
"I don't have a helmet," she argued lamely. If Luka was running for office, there was no way an argument that flimsy would ever hold up, but Ciara had to try.
"Neither do I, and I'm just fine. Now come on and trust me." With a resigning sigh, she stepped forward. Luka settled onto the bike first and helped her into position behind him. "You're gonna want to hold onto me tight," he said, "and don't be afraid to keep your eyes open. There's nothing like watching the world whip by when there's nothing protecting you from it."
A turn of the key in the ignition lit the engine, and the bike purred to life. Anticipating a quick takeoff, Ciara wrapped her arms low around Luka's waist and held herself close to his body. Two people on a bike without a single helmet between them had to be illegal. The bike reversed from its spot, taking a curve to the right before shifting into drive and jetting for the left. Ciara had been right to be worried — Luka drove fast. Too fast. The cold night air lashed at her skin, and she dug her cheek against his back to protect it. How was this a good idea? It was freezing.
Without stopping at the stop sign at the crossroads between the parking lot and the street, Luka jutted out into the heavy Manhattan traffic. Car horns blared at them, and Ciara squeaked as she closed her eyes. Luka wasn't just a bad boy — he was straight up crazy. No sane person would disregard the rules of the road so brashly while on a motorcycle. Did he want to die? Was he trying to kill her?
Luka wove between cars as the bike picked up speed, and when the light ahead turned red, he made a sharp right and played chicken with the traffic. Ciara's shriek rang through the night, only trumped by Luka's exuberant laughter. As much as she hated to admit it, the rich sound of his humor rooted in her heart and put her at ease.
As terrified as she was, Ciara began to feel the thrill of the ride. Little by little, Luka was drawing the unguarded side of her out. Ciara hoped that by the end of the night she'd still have her guard up. There was a reason Luka perceived her as cold, and if she had her way, he'd never find out the true reason until it was too late.
A sharp turn chased a cry of surprise from deep inside of her, and Ciara's arms tightened around him once more. Again Luka laughed, the sound pure and uninhibited, like a child caught up in the wonders of his world. In that moment, Ciara was his wonder, and her cheeks darkened at the thought.
Beneath the light of the stars they drove. Buildings flashed by, and before Ciara knew it, they'd left the dense downtown core for a street that stretched along the waterside. She turned her head to look, captivated by the way the light of the city caught in the water to twinkle like otherworldly gems.
As caught up in the wonder as she was, she didn't notice the bike slowing until they'd come to near stop. Luka had pulled away from the main street to drift along a side street winding through a park. A row of trees, evenly spaced, led the way to a small parking lot. The darkness and the thick tree trunks made seeing anything more impossible. When they stopped, she would ask Luka what this place was. If she was lucky, he'd be straightforward.
The parking lot was empty, and Luka pulled across two spaces and shifted into park. A turn of the keys killed the engine, and for a moment they caught their breath in the silence of the late autumn. No bugs hummed a chorus to fill the silence, and no birds sang their summer songs — all Ciara could hear was the racing of her pulse in her ears.
"You made it alive," Luka congratulated her. "Any chance you enjoyed even a second of it?"
He'd turned around to look back at her, brow arched devilishly, a mischievous gleam in his brown eyes. Had Ciara's heart not been pumping from the wild ride they'd just shared, it would have beat for how stunning he looked in that moment. But a relationship just wasn't in the cards. It didn't matter that he was the first man she'd felt anything for. There'd always be other men, but there would never be another chance to launch her career like this.
"I don't want to give you the satisfaction of a yes," Ciara replied, lifting her eyebrow to mimic his expression. Luka's smirk only grew, and when she dismounted from the bike, he followed. After their high speed trip through the city streets, the frost in the air no longer felt as oppressing.
"It's not important, really," those eyes, sparkling, were locked on hers. "I got my kicks out of how you screamed and held onto me. Even if you won't admit you had fun, your reaction alone was well worth the crushing pressure on my gut."
Perhaps she'd held a little tight, but who wouldn't when the alternative was plummeting to the pavement to an untimely death?
"When you're seconds away from death, who needs to breathe, anyway?"
A moment passed between them, Luka's smirk fading in intensity but gaining something far more sensual. Ciara shifted her weight from foot to foot, attempting to draw herself from the heat quickening below. All it took was a single look to get her flustered — Luka was a dangerous temptation. No wonder he was so popular with women.
"I have something to show you," he said at last,
tearing his eyes from her to turn toward the distance. A line of trees shielded what lay beyond, but whatever it was, Ciara felt it was impressive. With Luka, nothing was dull.
Luka ahead, Ciara trailing behind, he took her across the grounds and past the line of trees. Beyond the natural barrier was a modest guard rail and a solitary bench facing the water. What the bench faced took Ciara's breath away.
In the distance stood the statue of liberty, lit up like gold by the lights at her feet. Behind her in stunning bright white lights was the Manhattan bridge. Luka swept his hand out, palm upward, to present the sight to her, then settled upon the bench with his legs spread and one arm draped over the top.
"There isn't a sight more iconic in all of New York," he said. "Most people use the parking lot for the businesses, not the view. I feel like time has forgotten this place, but it's far better than any tourist trap. Far more secluded. I thought I'd take you here, small town girl. Soak in the best sights you new big city has to offer."
Stunned by what lay before her, Ciara approached the bench on slow footsteps. Luka's gaze was set out at the sights before them, his hair ridiculously windswept. Had Ciara not been so impressed at his thoughtfulness, she might have made fun of it. Instead, she approached the bench from behind and ran her hand through his dark hair, soothing it back into place.
"And how is it that a big city boy found a place like this? I don't imagine you're overly impressed with New York landmarks, since you've lived here your whole life."
The intimacy of the gesture did not escape either of them, but Luka kept his eyes set on the horizon. In the distance traffic passed, but the trees muted the noise from the nearby streets. Cars crossed the Manhattan bridge, nothing but pinpricks of light in the distance. In all her glory stood the statue of liberty, a transplant from France. A lady separated from her roots, come to New York to find a better life. Ciara felt her struggles, and cherished her successes.
"Just because you're born in a place doesn't mean you don't appreciate its beauty. When I love a place, I love it forever. New York is more than my home — she's my life. I want to pour myself back into her, make her shine like she did beneath my father's guidance. Knowing all of her most beautiful corners, and all of her ugliest nooks, is vital to that."
Luka had stripped away her defenses through his reckless driving, and in return, he had exposed a side of himself Ciara had never expected to find. The child he'd proven himself to be had taken the backseat to an ambitious man. Ciara's fingers stopped in their tracks, and she withdrew them from his hair as she considered his words.
"You really are serious about this whole thing."
"About the city? About being mayor? Yeah. Yeah, I am."
Ciara slipped around the bench and sat next to him. The cold seeped from the grain of the wood planks into the denim on the backs of her thighs, and she shivered. In response, Luka's arm slipped from the back of the bench and pulled her close, sharing his body heat with her.
Ciara nestled comfortably beneath his arm, Luka staring out at the iconic sights before them. Finally, the cold crept into her bones, and the shivers would not stop. As much as she hated to admit it, Luka's presence contributed as much as the cold did to the tremble that ran down her spine.
"You're cold," he said simply. "Come back to my place. We'll have some drinks to get warm."
Every fiber of her being said yes, except for Ciara's lips. Guilt struck. In the most organic way, she wanted to let him take her home, but there was business tainting the encounter. At his place, she'd have access to parts of his life few saw. It was exactly what she needed professionally, but the thought of taking advantage of him in his own domain felt low.
"I'd like that," she mumbled, eyes downcast. It was the truth, but the nuances behind it were hard.
A firm hand found hers, and with a tender touch he drew her from the bench and guided her back to the motorcycle. Soon they'd settled once more upon it, and the machine hummed to life in the quiet parking lot. Ciara nuzzled against his back, arms wrapped around his waist, and when the bike took off, this time she found the drive less threatening. For as quick as he was to anger, Luka was a man of ambitions and higher callings, and his kind heart was one she felt she could trust.
New York passed around them, little more than a blur as they wove around traffic to the disgruntled honks of other motorists. Ciara's heart raced, but her adrenaline was partnered with lofty feelings of budding adoration. What was it about Luka that made her feel this way? Maybe she'd never know. The way they played off of each other was powerful, startling, and wonderful. When at last the bike came to a stop outside of an upscale condo building, she had yet to ride that feeling out.
Like dancers working their way through a practiced routine, Luka helped her off the bike. Together they took the elevator to the top floor, and Luka unlocked the door to an upper story unit with wide glass windows making up its back wall. The living space overlooked New York in all her beauty. The lights of passing cars and office buildings glittered like sequins on the city's dress. Ciara approached the windows to get a better look, and as she did, Luka went to a small liquor cabinet and fixed their drinks. The clinking of glass flavored the moment, the quiet of the city surreal from their perch.
"What a view," Ciara murmured. Luka's footsteps approached from behind, and he pressed a drink into her hand. A half inch of amber liquid occupied the bottom of a shallow lowball glass, likely scotch.
Ciara wasn't one to usually drink, but there was something about the moment that warranted it. She raised the glass to her lips and sipped. The alcohol burned the back of her throat for but a moment before going down smooth; Luka had excellent taste.
"For years this is what I've seen every day, and as beautiful as it is, sometimes I forget its importance when life bogs me down." Luka's hand slipped comfortably along her side until it came to rest on her lower back, just high enough to remain innocent.
The gesture was executed with confidence, Luka sure of himself as he touched her. The dominant man inside of him was in control. "But with you here, everything is new and exciting again. I'm glad you decided to give me a second chance — this time around, I'll prove to you what a real gentleman I can be."
The drink held loosely at waist level, her eyes on the city, Ciara's mind focused on his words as her skin felt his warmth drawing nearer. The tip of his nose brushed her neck, and he pressed a brief, hot kiss against it.
"Let me take your coat," Luka whispered.
"A small town girl doesn't come to the big city expecting to find a man with manners." Ciara shrugged the coat from her shoulders, passing her drink from hand to hand as she worked her arms free. Luka held it from behind and took it from her once she was done.
"Just because she doesn't expect it," he replied, "doesn't mean she doesn't deserve it. Don't get me wrong — I know a girl like you deserves way better than a guy like me, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to keep trying for you. Just because I'm not perfect doesn't mean I can't keep striving to be better, and for you, I think I'm just about ready to try anything."
The words he said made her heart flutter, and in that instant Ciara forgot about digging through his dirty laundry. There was only him, and the warmth of his adoration, and her own stirring impulses.
"How about we meet half way, then?" The tone of her voice had dropped just a little, the stirrings of arousal mellowing it. "You work your way up to perfect, and I'll kick it down a few notches," she turned to face him, hooking a playful finger around the button of his jacket to undo it. "And we'll meet in a playground both of us feel comfortable in, away from expectations and obligations."
From the way Luka's eyes widened and his jaw fell slack, Ciara knew she had him wrapped around her little finger. On the battlefield of romance, she refused to stand idle; if he could flirt, then so could she. She never had any reservations about making her desire for a man known.
"If you're looking for comfort, I know just the place." The hand on her lower back s
lipped lower yet. The gesture served as more than just a possessive move — it allowed her a chance to back down, should she want to. Ciara did not want to.
"Where's that?" she asked in a sweet whisper, letting her hand run down his chest above his jacket.
"Now why would I want to ruin the surprise?" he whispered back with a smirk. A slight inclination of his head brought their lips together, and the sight of New York was no longer the only thing to steal Ciara's breath away.
Luka plucked her from the floor to spirit away to the bedroom and within moments, he was lying her on the bed, his gaze scalding. As his mouth found hers once more, he tore at her shirt.
He reached out almost reverently to cup her modest breasts in their black lace bra before burying his face in her neck to lathe the flesh there with hot, ravenous kisses. Luka bit down gently at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and she arched against him with a moan. Luka reached for her jeans, undoing the button to help him rid her of the thick denim. Her panties came next, without the slightest hesitation, and then her bra, dropped carelessly off the side of the bed.
And then it was just her, the sheets, and the moonlight. Ciara’s heart pounded against her ribs.
“Fucking beautiful.”
She came out of her head to Luka’s almost reverent whisper, and her entire body warmed as his hands wrapped around her waist, rising her higher on the bed. The position settled his mouth just above her straining nipples and he took full advantage of the position.
A shuddering moan escaped Ciara's lips as he took the tip of her breast between his teeth. His slight stubble scratched against the sensitive expanse of her dark nipple as his tongue flicked against the captive bud, making her gasp. Her fingers immediately tunneled through his hair as a low groan of satisfaction escaped him. Luka suckled firmly, drawing on her until she was biting her lips against a threatening cry.
No man had ever paid her breasts such attention before. She’d had no idea it might feel so good. Already her thighs were slick, and there was a dull throbbing between them that made her lightheaded.
