Chapter 1: Sparks Behind the Bar
The Miami heat clung to the air like a lover who wouldn’t let go, thick and heavy, making every breath feel like a tease. Inside The Coral Dive, a gritty little bar on the edge of South Beach, Mia Torres ruled the night. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, sticking to her bronzed skin as she slung drinks with a smirk that could stop a man dead. She was no damsel, no pushover—Mia was a force, a hurricane in tight black shorts and a crop top that left just enough to the imagination.
Jake Malone sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a beer, his rugged frame hunched over the counter like he owned the damn place. A construction worker with hands rough as gravel and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, he’d been watching Mia all night. His tight jeans did little to hide the bulge growing beneath them, his cock already hard just from the way her ass swayed as she poured shots. He didn’t even try to disguise the hunger in his hazel eyes.
“Keep staring like that, Malone, and I might charge you for the show,” Mia quipped, sliding a fresh beer his way without breaking eye contact. Her voice was a low purr, laced with challenge.
Jake grinned, leaning forward, his forearms flexing under the dim bar lights. “Worth every damn penny, sweetheart. But I’m thinkin’ I’d rather get a private performance.”
Mia arched a brow, wiping down the counter with a rag, her movements deliberate, teasing. “Oh, you think you can handle me? I don’t play nice, big guy. I bite.”
“Darlin’, I’m countin’ on it,” Jake shot back, his voice rough with want. He took a long swig of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Mia couldn’t help but notice the way his throat worked, imagining other things he could do with that mouth.
The bar crowd thinned as midnight crept closer, the sticky heat driving even the hardiest drunks out into the night. Mia flipped the ‘Closed’ sign on the door, her pulse kicking up as she caught Jake’s gaze again. He hadn’t moved, still perched on that stool like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
“Last call was twenty minutes ago,” she said, crossing her arms under her chest, pushing her curves into view. “You plannin’ to camp out here all night?”
Jake stood, his height towering as he stepped closer, the scent of sweat and sawdust rolling off him in waves. “Only if you’re joinin’ me, Mia. I’ve got a few ideas on how to pass the time.”
She laughed, sharp and bold, but there was a flicker of heat in her dark eyes. “Oh, I bet you do. Question is, can you keep up?”
“Try me,” he growled, closing the distance until the heat of his body pressed against hers, the bar counter the only thing between them. Mia’s breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Backroom. Now.”
They didn’t waste time. The narrow hallway to the storage room felt like a gauntlet, every step charged with raw, electric need. The door slammed shut behind them, and Mia was on him, her hands fisting his shirt as she shoved him against a stack of crates. Their mouths crashed together, all teeth and tongue, a battle for control neither was willing to lose.
“Fuck, you’re trouble,” Jake panted, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her flush against him. She could feel how hard he was, the heat of his cock pressing through his jeans, and it sent a thrill straight to her core.
“Damn right I am,” Mia shot back, her voice dripping with defiance as she nipped at his jaw. Her fingers worked his belt, the metal clinking in the quiet room, and she dropped to her knees, her eyes locked on his as she tugged his jeans down. The sight of him, thick and ready, made her mouth water, her lips already wet with anticipation.
Jake groaned, his hands threading through her hair, not to control but to hold on for dear life. “Mia, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”
She smirked up at him, her breath hot against his skin. “Good. Let’s see how long you last.”
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