Chapter 1 #2
Still not sure how to get my ID from José, I weave through the foot traffic and duck into the designated smoking area closest to the front of the airport.
Eyes the color of milk chocolate root me to the spot.
My stomach drops into my toes as instincts roar through me.
Wearing a perfectly tailored suit, the most handsome man I’ve ever seen leans against the side of the building.
Everything from the top of his head to the tips of his shiny black dress shoes screams danger.
The ominous air wafting from him strikes fear deep in my heart while the intensity of his gaze wakes parts of me I never knew existed.
He lifts his hand and closes his lips around a cigarette.
Dark heat blooms to life low in my belly. Sensual hunger warms my blood as I stare at his long fingers and soft lips.
The end of the cigarette brightens as he fills his lungs with smoke. He pulls his hand away from his mouth. I swallow and force my eyes back to his. He quirks a brow.
His attention shifts behind me.
Dread overtakes my stupor. I look over my shoulder and embrace the familiar disgust flashing through me as José and his top five riders swagger toward me.
Acting on impulse, I rush forward past the man’s long legs and press my back against the wall on the other side of him.
Awareness prickles along my side at his nearness, but I ignore the conflicting urges inside me—I long to run as far and fast as possible from his menacing aura while curiosity demands I plaster myself against his side to explore his hard body—and cross my arms over my chest.
I don’t know this man and have no reason to trust him, but there’s no greater ally than an enemy stronger than your enemy, right? I don’t expect him to protect me, but his presence offers a distinct deterrent for José and his gang.
When José’s steps falter, a wave of relief flows through me, but I shove it away and dig my nails into my sides before forcing my shoulders to relax.
The stranger takes another pull from his cigarette, fully unbothered despite me encroaching on his space and the aggression pouring off José and his lackeys.
“Ven acá, lil sheep,” José demands with a snap of his fingers before pointing from me to his boots.
I swallow, but despite the lingering taste of cinnamon on my tongue, disgust and fear sour the back of my throat and words refuse to form.
José stops a few feet in front of me. Elias and the other bikers form a half circle around us, leaving little room for me to slip through and dart away.
With his body squared to mine, José turns his attention to Mr. Dark and Dangerous.
“Hey ése, get away from my whore.”
The stranger just lifts a brow and takes another drag on his cigarette.
I don’t understand how José can scoff when the nonchalance in the man’s countenance promises death.
Maybe I’ve spent too long in fight-or-flight mode, but every move the man makes, even just the steady rise and fall of his chest, carries a note of leashed violence.
“I’m not your whore, José. You’ve spent two years chasing me and never succeeded. You’re not man enough,” I say.
José’s features twist in ugly fury.
“What, and you think this pendejo is? You let him touch you?”
I turn my head and meet the stranger’s rich brown eyes. It’s not fair for me to put him in this position, but life was never fair to me and desperate times call for desperate measures.
But there’re only two people I will ever beg—my ex-best friend and my uncle—so I challenge him with my stare.
His lips curl into a playful smirk. My insides throb with decadent heat, my reaction all the more extreme from his nearness. He’s too handsome. Too intense. Even the thin white scar cutting through his right eyebrow is too tempting. My fingers itch to trail over his skin.
He lifts his cigarette, which only has two or three pulls left before it burns out, and closes his lips around the filter.
I long to rub my thighs together to ease the ache between my legs.
With his lungs full of smoke, he offers me the cigarette between two long, callused fingers.
My father has similar calluses, but this man carries himself with too much elegance to belong to the same species.
Our hands brush as I take the cigarette from him. Electricity zings through me. With my head buzzing, I bring the filter to my mouth and close my lips around where the stranger’s were mere seconds ago.
His intense brown eyes hold mine captive. I can’t look away.
I take a long, slow inhale, pulling more smoke into my lungs even though it burns. Feminine power blooms within me as his lashes dip in hooded delight.
A white wisp escapes from his nostril, adding a whimsical note to an overwhelmingly serious moment, and for the first time in my adult life, I wish I were in a fantasy novel with princesses and dragons. He’d be the dark knight on a terrifying steed swooping in to rescue me.
He takes the cigarette back from me, settles a massive, heavy arm over my shoulders, and leads our exhale. As smoke billows around our faces, my senses lock in on our differences. He’s too big. Too strong. Too masculine.
“Let’s kill this cabrón,” José spits.
He and his biker brothers pull switchblades and brass knuckles from the inside of their leather jackets as they shuffle closer.
My savior lifts his cigarette to his lips as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. Goosebumps rise on my flesh as he traces little designs on my upper arm.
He drops the cigarette butt and crushes it under his heel with a long-suffering sigh before reaching into his pocket. Despite the intensity of the moment, he moves with the slow, methodical grace of a man used to high conflict.
A distinct click sounds from his pocket. Ice solidifies in my veins as dread threatens to swallow me whole.
All the signs I ignored pile on top of my head. His expensive suit, calm mannerisms, callused hands, and the cold violence shining in his eyes all pointed to what I knew on an instinctual level.
He must be mafia.
“Maybe not today, eh?” he drawls.
His deep, accented voice burrows into my marrow, curls into my depths, and confirms my suspicions. He’s not from around here—I’d know if he were—but there’s no room for doubt.
He’s a powerful mafia figure.
Yearning fills me. I want to hear him groan my name.
I’m so fucking screwed.