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Miami Heat: After Hours

Miami Heat: After Hours

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 Coral Dive, a gritty little bar on the edge of South Beach, the air was thick with the scent of cheap tequila and desperation. Mia Torres, the bartender with a tongue sharper than the lime wedges she sliced, moved behind the counter like a panther stalking prey. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands sticking to her sweat-slicked neck, and her tank top hugged curves that could stop traffic. She knew every eye in the place was on her—and she reveled in it.

Jake Malone sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a beer that had gone warm an hour ago. A construction worker with hands rough as gravel and a jawline that could cut glass, he hadn’t taken his eyes off Mia since he walked in. His tight jeans did little to hide the bulge straining against the denim, a silent testament to the thoughts running wild in his head as he watched her sway her ass while pouring shots. He shifted in his seat, trying to ease the ache, but it was no use. She had him hooked.

“Last call, boys,” Mia shouted over the din of slurred laughter and clinking glasses, her voice a smoky purr that could melt steel. Her dark eyes flicked to Jake, catching his stare like a challenge. “Unless you’ve got something better to offer than warm Budweiser, handsome.”

Jake smirked, leaning forward, his forearms flexing on the sticky bar top. “Oh, I’ve got plenty to offer, sweetheart. Question is, can you handle it?”

Mia arched a brow, wiping down the counter with a rag, her movements slow and deliberate, making sure he caught every flex of her toned arms. “Handle it? Sugar, I’d break you before you even got started.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Jake’s voice dropped low, gravelly, the kind of tone that sent a shiver down Mia’s spine despite the oppressive heat.

She leaned in close, her lips curling into a wicked grin, the scent of her coconut lotion mixing with the tang of lime on her fingers. “Stick around after closing, and you’ll find out.”

The next hour crawled by, the bar emptying out until it was just the two of them. Mia locked the door with a click that echoed like a gunshot in the quiet. She turned, her gaze pinning Jake to his stool as she sauntered over, hips rolling with purpose. “So, big guy,” she said, stopping just inches from him, her breath hot against his ear. “You gonna keep staring, or are you gonna do something about it?”

Jake’s hands were on her in an instant, rough palms sliding up her thighs, pulling her closer until she was straddling his lap right there on the barstool. “Fuck, woman, you’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he growled, his cock hard as steel beneath her, pressing against her through the thin fabric of her shorts.

Mia laughed, low and throaty, grinding down against him just to hear him groan. “Good. I like my men a little unhinged.” Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard as she crushed her mouth to his, all teeth and tongue and raw hunger. The heat between them was electric, the kind that could burn a city down.

She slid off his lap only to drop to her knees, her eyes glinting with mischief as she tugged at his belt. “Let’s see if you’re as big a talker down here,” she teased, her voice dripping with promise. Jake’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the edge of the bar as she freed him, her gaze locking with his, daring him to look away. The night was just getting started, and they both knew it was about to explode.

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