Chapter 1: Last Call
The Miami summer clung to the air like a lover who wouldn’t let go, hot and heavy, pressing against every inch of exposed skin. Inside The Coral Dive, a gritty little bar off Ocean Drive, the AC sputtered like an old man on his last breath, doing little to cool the sweat beading on Mia’s neck. She moved behind the bar with a predator’s grace, her tight black tank top sticking to her curves as she poured shots of tequila for the late-night stragglers. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her sharp, defiant eyes—eyes that caught everything, including the rugged man at the end of the bar who hadn’t stopped staring since he walked in.
Jake. She’d seen him around before, always in those damn tight jeans that left little to the imagination, his construction worker’s tan glistening under the dim neon lights. Tonight, though, his gaze was a fucking inferno, burning straight through her as she bent over to grab a bottle from the lower shelf, her ass swaying just enough to make him shift in his seat. She smirked to herself, knowing exactly what she was doing.
“Keep staring, hardhat, and I might start charging for the show,” Mia tossed over her shoulder, her voice dripping with honeyed venom as she straightened up, a bottle of bourbon in hand.
Jake grinned, leaning forward on his elbows, his biceps flexing under his worn T-shirt. “Darlin’, I’d pay double just to see what else you’ve got up your sleeve. Or down those shorts.”
She laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a jolt straight to his groin. “Oh, sweetheart, you couldn’t handle what’s in these shorts. I’d break you before sunrise.”
“Try me,” he shot back, his voice rough with challenge, eyes darkening as he took a slow sip of his beer. “I’ve got stamina for days, and I’m not afraid of a little... demolition.”
Mia arched a brow, sauntering over to his end of the bar, her hips rolling with every step. She leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, “Careful what you wish for, Jake. I don’t play nice, and I sure as hell don’t play fair.”
The last customer stumbled out at 2 a.m., leaving the bar empty except for the hum of the flickering neon sign and the tension crackling between them. Mia flipped the ‘Closed’ sign on the door, her eyes never leaving his as she locked it with a deliberate click. The air was thick, charged, and she could feel the heat radiating off him even from across the room.
“Last call, big boy,” she purred, resting her hands on her hips. “You staying or going?”
Jake stood, his boots heavy on the sticky floor as he closed the distance between them. “I’m staying. Question is, can you keep up?”
Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she stepped closer, her fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. “Oh, I’ll do more than keep up. I’ll have you begging before I’m done.”
His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she could feel just how hard he was already, pressing insistently through his jeans. Her pulse raced, a thrill of power surging through her as she tilted her head up, her lips hovering just out of reach. “You’re already halfway there, aren’t you?” she teased, her voice a sultry taunt.
“Keep talking, Mia,” he growled, his grip tightening. “I’m about to show you how much I can handle.”
She didn’t wait for him to make the first move. With a swift, confident push, she backed him against the bar counter, her hands sliding down to his belt as she sank to her knees, her eyes locked on his. The hunger in her gaze was undeniable, and as she tugged at his jeans, the promise of what was to come hung heavy in the air—wet, wild, and utterly untamed.
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