Ray's POV
She's already there when I pull into the parking lot.
Leaning against her bike like sin incarnate. Jet-black monster of a thing—sleek, custom, matte like gunmetal, the kind of machine that growls when she rides it. She matches it—jet-black hair falling like ink down her back, eyes hidden by sunglasses she doesn't need after sunset.
One leg bent, boot pressed against the concrete. A cigarette between her fingers, smoke curling lazy loops around her knuckles. And in the other hand? A fucking Diet Coke.
Not a coffee. Not water. A Diet Coke.
Sky Valen, in all her menace and madness.
I slide into the space next to her, kill my engine, and watch.
She doesn't look up. Just exhales like she's bored of breathing.
"Didn't think the Maddox prince had the balls to park next to me," she mutters. "What's next? You gonna ask to share my lighter too?"
I grin, propping my elbow on my own handlebar. "Nah. You'd probably set me on fire."
She takes a long drag. "Only if you beg."
I watch the cigarette burn down to the filter. She flicks it like it insulted her and crushes it under her boot.
The Coke can hisses when she opens it. She takes a sip, lips wrapping around the metal edge like she's trying to torture me.
"You know that shit'll rot your insides, right?"
"So will kissing you, but I did that anyway."
I laugh. "Touché."
She finally turns. Pulls off her sunglasses. Her eyes flash like they always do—violent storm one second, velvet night the next.
"Wanna race?" she says, just like that.
My head tilts. "What, now?"
She kicks off the wall, swinging a leg over her bike. Hair whips around her waist like black silk. "You scared?"
Of course I'm scared.
But not of the road.
Of her.
Of how badly I want to lose to her just to see her smile.
I swing onto my own bike. "Where to?"
She zips up her leather jacket. "Brooklyn Bridge. Back and forth. No helmets."
"No helmets?"
"No rules."
I grin. "Now you're speaking my language."
She revs the engine. It howls under her like it was made to worship her. I rev mine back, matching her beat for beat.
She leans in, eyes locked on mine.
"You ready to eat my smoke, Maddox?"
I smirk, leaning just as close. "Only if you promise to kiss me after."
She scoffs, throws her head back, and lets out a laugh—real, unfiltered, wild.
And just like that, she takes off.
No warning. No countdown.
Gone.
We burn through Brooklyn like two devils in heat. Wind in our faces, tires screaming against the asphalt. She's fast. Too fast.
But I'm not trying to win.
I'm chasing her because there's nowhere else I'd rather be than in her rearview mirror.
The bridge glows like gold beneath us, and for a second—just one—I swear she looks back.
Hair flying. Eyes wild. Mouth open in a silent dare.
And then she speeds up.
Fuck.
She's gonna kill me.
Or worse—
Make me fall harder.
When we finally pull back into the lot, engines gasping, she skids to a perfect stop, rips her helmetless hair tie out, and whips around.
"I won."
I nod, breathless. "You always do."
She blinks, just once, like she wasn't expecting that.
And then she grins, slow and dangerous.
"You're not as cocky as you pretend to be."
I slide off the bike and walk toward her, slow and sure. "And you're not as heartless as you want me to believe."
She crosses her arms. "Try me."
I step into her space. Our chests almost touch. Her breath catches.
So does mine.
"No helmets. No rules," I say softly. "But Sky? If we keep doing this…"
She doesn't move. Doesn't blink.
I lean in, close enough to brush her jaw with my lips.
"…I'm not gonna want to stop."
Her voice is barely a whisper. "Then don't."