Chapter 1: Last Call for Lust
The Miami summer clung to the air like a lover who wouldn’t let go, heavy and hot, the kind of heat that made your skin beg for a touch of cool. Inside The Rusty Anchor, a dive bar on the edge of the city, the AC sputtered like an old man on his last breath. Mia, the bartender with a smirk as sharp as a switchblade, wiped down the sticky counter, her dark eyes scanning the thinning crowd. Her black tank top hugged her curves, damp with sweat, and her denim shorts barely contained the fire of her hips. She wasn’t just pouring drinks—she was serving trouble, and she knew it.
Jake pushed through the door, his construction boots scuffing the worn floor, his tanned forearms glistening from a long day under the sun. His faded tee stretched over a chest that looked carved from stone, and when his hazel eyes met Mia’s, a spark flared hotter than the asphalt outside. He slid onto a barstool, the wood creaking under his weight, and flashed a grin that promised mischief.
‘Rough day, hardhat?’ Mia teased, sliding a cold beer across the counter before he even asked. Her voice was honey with a bite, and she leaned forward just enough to let him catch the glint of challenge in her gaze.
‘Rough enough to need somethin’ stronger than this piss-water,’ Jake shot back, his voice a low rumble. He took a long pull from the bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and didn’t break eye contact. ‘But I’ll settle for whatever you’re servin’ up, darlin’.’
Mia laughed, a sound that cut through the hum of the bar like a blade. ‘Careful, big guy. I don’t pour cheap shots, and I don’t play easy. You think you can handle the burn?’
Jake leaned closer, the scent of sawdust and sweat rolling off him, intoxicating in its rawness. ‘Oh, I can handle heat, sweetheart. Question is, can you keep up when the fire starts?’
Her lips curled, a predator’s smile, as she poured herself a shot of tequila and knocked it back without flinching. ‘Stick around ‘til closing, and you might find out just how much fire I’ve got.’
The hours bled away, the bar emptying until it was just the two of them, the tension between them a live wire ready to snap. Mia locked the front door with a deliberate click, her eyes never leaving Jake’s as she sauntered back to the bar. The air was thick, electric, and she could feel the heat pooling low in her belly, a hungry ache she didn’t bother to hide.
‘Backroom. Now,’ she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. Jake’s grin widened, and he followed her through the narrow hallway, the dim light casting shadows over the hard lines of his jaw.
The backroom was a cramped mess of crates and empty bottles, but Mia didn’t care. She turned on him, her hands fisting in his shirt as she yanked him close. ‘Don’t waste my time with sweet talk,’ she growled, her breath hot against his lips. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’
Jake’s hands were on her in an instant, rough and sure, gripping her hips as he crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss was a battle, all teeth and tongue, and Mia gave as good as she got, her nails raking down his back. She could feel him, hard and insistent against her thigh, and a wicked thrill shot through her. This was going to be a ride worth taking.
‘Fuck, you’re trouble,’ Jake panted, his voice rough as gravel as he spun her around, pressing her against a stack of crates. His hands slid down to her ass, squeezing with a hunger that matched her own, and Mia arched into him, daring him to take more.
‘Less talk, more action,’ she snapped, her voice dripping with command. She was already wet, aching, and she wasn’t about to wait for him to catch up. The night was young, and they were just getting started.
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