Chapter 1: Last Call
The Miami night was a sultry beast, the kind of heat that clung to your skin like a lover who wouldn’t let go. Inside the dimly lit bar, ‘Neon Waves,’ the air was thick with the scent of cheap tequila and expensive perfume. Mia Torres, the bartender with a smirk sharp enough to cut glass, moved like a predator behind the counter. Her black tank top hugged every curve, and her hips swayed with a rhythm that could stop traffic—or a man’s heart. She knew the power of her ass in those tight leather pants, and she wielded it like a weapon.
Jake Malone sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a beer that had gone warm an hour ago. His construction worker’s frame—broad shoulders, rough hands, and a jawline that could hammer nails—made him stand out even in the haze of drunken regulars. His eyes, dark and hungry, hadn’t left Mia since he walked in. She felt the weight of his stare, a heat hotter than the Miami summer, and she reveled in it.
‘Closing in ten, cowboy,’ Mia called out, her voice a low purr as she wiped down the counter, her gaze flicking to Jake. ‘You planning to stare all night, or you gonna say something?’
Jake’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin. He leaned forward, elbows on the bar, his voice rough as gravel. ‘I’m just wondering how a woman like you handles all this heat without melting.’
Mia laughed, sharp and biting, tossing a rag over her shoulder. ‘Oh, I don’t melt, sugar. I burn. Question is, can you keep up with the flames?’
His eyes darkened, a spark of challenge igniting. ‘Try me, darlin’. I’ve been hauling steel all day. I got stamina for days.’
She arched a brow, stepping closer, her cleavage just inches from his face as she leaned over the bar. ‘Big talk for a man who’s been eye-fucking me for hours. You gonna back it up, or just keep dreaming?’
Jake’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the beer bottle. ‘Keep talking like that, and I’ll show you exactly what I’m dreaming about.’
The clock ticked past closing. The last stragglers stumbled out into the humid night, leaving the bar empty except for the electric tension between them. Mia locked the front door with a deliberate click, her eyes never leaving Jake’s. She sauntered back, hips rolling, and jerked her head toward the backroom. ‘Come on, tough guy. Let’s see if you’re all talk.’
He followed without a word, the air between them crackling as they stepped into the cramped, dimly lit storage room. Cases of liquor lined the walls, the faint hum of the bar’s AC the only sound—until Mia turned, her gaze molten, and shoved him against the wall with a strength that surprised him.
‘You’ve been watching me all night,’ she hissed, her hands sliding down his chest, nails scraping through his worn T-shirt. ‘What do you want, Jake? Say it.’
His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him, his voice a low growl. ‘I want you, Mia. Every damn inch of you.’
She smirked, her fingers dipping to the waistband of his jeans, feeling the heat of him already straining against the denim. ‘Good answer.’
Their lips crashed together, a collision of need and defiance, tongues battling for dominance. Mia’s hands were everywhere, tugging at his shirt, while Jake’s rough palms slid under her tank top, gripping her bare skin. The heat of their bodies mingled, the room growing smaller, hotter, as their breaths turned to desperate gasps. She could feel how hard he was, pressing against her thigh, and it sent a thrill through her, a challenge she was more than ready to meet.
‘Fuck, Mia,’ he groaned against her mouth, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her tighter. ‘You’re gonna kill me.’
‘Not yet,’ she shot back, her voice dripping with wicked promise. ‘I’ve got plans for you first.’
She dropped to her knees, her eyes locked on his as her fingers worked the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper echoing in the tight space. The anticipation was a living thing, pulsing between them, and as she freed him, the raw, hungry look in her eyes told him she was in control—and he was about to lose his damn mind.
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