Instead, I looked back at his attractive frame sliding through the room and hurried to catch up.
We passed through the crowd, back toward the bathrooms. He pushed open an unmarked door and we walked into a storage room. There were boxes and racks of food, spices, and drinks all over. Toward the back, there was another door. He walked directly toward it and pushed it open.
We stepped out into the alley behind the bar.
“It was getting hot in there,” he said.
“What were they arguing about?”
“The same thing they always argue about,” he said. “Business.”
“What kind of business?”
He stepped toward me. I backed up until my back pressed against the door. There was no handle on the outside. I could feel the cold metal against the bare backs of my legs.
“You ask a lot of questions,” he said. “I’m tired of questions.” He stopped inches away from me, and my heart was pounding in my chest.
“What are we doing out here?”
“I thought you’d like a breath of fresh air.” He smirked, and I knew I should run away, but I was frozen.
It was his eyes. Both mocking and intense, I couldn’t look away from them. I realized that I was leaning closer to him, tipped in toward his body almost as if he had some kind of gravity yanking me closer. I wanted to touch his muscles, feel the hardness of his arms and trace the tattoos along his skin. I wanted to touch his lips.
Oh my god, I realized. I wanted to touch his lips.
“Thanks,” I said lamely.
“Don’t thank me yet. If you want, I can give you something to thank me for.”
“Maybe I should go.”
His lips grazed my neck. I stood completely still.
“Maybe,” he said. “I bet you want to run away. But you’re not moving, are you?”
“No. I’m not moving.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“I know. It’s because you want to know what it would feel like.”
“Like what would feel like?”
And then he kissed me.
I spent a lot of time thinking about my journalistic ethics. I knew that kissing someone who could be a subject of my story was crossing that ethical line, and that there was no going back.
That didn’t stop me. I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him against me.
He crushed his lips against mine, kissing me hard, pressing my body against the metal door. I wanted him to push hard as his hands grabbed my hips, pulling me against him. Our tongues rolled through each other, and I loved his taste, loved his strong hands, the way he grabbed me and took me. I realized that I was dripping wet and completely, totally, utterly out of my mind.
The kiss felt like it lasted forever. Until I felt the door behind me start to open and I stumbled forward.
Rafa pulled me against him, stepping back. The door swung open and a man stood there, blinking out at us.
“There you fucking are,” he said. “Ernesto wants us.”
“The fuck does he want?”
“Boss said we have somewhere to be.” He glanced at me. He was heavier, with dark hair and dark eyes. “Who’s the fucking girl?”
“How about you don’t fucking worry about it. Yeah?”
The guy shrugged. “Whatever. Get your ass in here. Get rid of the fucking slut.”
Rafa pushed me aside gently and stepped toward the guy. “Fuck off now, Jimmy, before I fucking break your neck.”
The guy turned and quickly walked inside. Rafa jammed his foot in the door before it shut completely.
He turned toward me, holding the door open. “Give me your number,” he said. He handed me his phone.
I nodded and quickly typed my number in. I had no clue why, but I gave him my real number.
“Good. See you later, Jessica.” He slipped his phone into his pocket and then disappeared back into the bar. The door clicked shut behind him.
I stared at it for a second and then released a breath. I shook my head like I was coming out of a dream.
What the hell had just happened?
I came to the bar to try and do some research for a story on human trafficking. I knew these men were mobsters, and I knew they were my enemy.
But Rafa seemed different. I barely knew him, and yet I’d found myself following him into a dark alley and making out with him.
It was totally crazy. But the way he looked at me, the way he talked to me, it pushed me over the edge. I went from rational and professional to a total, crazy mess in only a few seconds.
I needed to stay away from that man. Instantly, I regretted giving him my real number, but it didn’t matter. I was going to leave and forget about him. There were other ways to try to get some insider information.
I quickly walked down the alley, feeling strangely disappointed.