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, the air was thick with the scent of cheap tequila and expensive cologne. Mia, the bartender with a smirk sharper than a switchblade, moved behind the counter like she owned the joint—and hell, she might as well have. Her black tank top hugged every curve, and her denim shorts barely contained the sway of her ass as she poured shots with a flick of her wrist.
Jake sat at the far end of the bar, a rugged construction worker with hands calloused from hard labor and eyes that burned hotter than the asphalt outside. His tight jeans did little to hide the bulge straining against the fabric as he watched Mia work. He’d been coming here for weeks, nursing beers and trading barbs with her, but tonight felt different. Electric. Like the air before a storm.
“Another beer, hardhat, or are you just gonna stare at my ass all night?” Mia quipped, sliding a coaster his way with a raised brow. Her voice was honey laced with venom, and it hit Jake like a punch to the gut.
He grinned, leaning forward, his forearms flexing on the sticky counter. “If I’m staring, darlin’, it’s ‘cause you’re givin’ me a hell of a show. But I’ll take that beer—if you throw in a smile.”
Mia snorted, popping the cap off a bottle and setting it in front of him. “Smiles cost extra. You got the cash, or just that cocky attitude?”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty to offer,” Jake shot back, his voice dropping low, rough like gravel. “Just say the word, and I’ll show you.”
Her dark eyes flicked down to the obvious strain in his jeans, and a wicked smirk curled her lips. “Big talk for a man who’s been sittin’ there all night. You gonna make a move, or just keep that hard-on as a souvenir?”
The bar was emptying out now, the last stragglers stumbling into the humid night. Mia flipped the ‘Closed’ sign on the door, her gaze never leaving Jake as she sauntered back to the counter. The tension between them crackled, a live wire waiting to spark. She leaned over, her cleavage teasingly close, and whispered, “Last call, stud. What’s it gonna be?”
Jake didn’t hesitate. He stood, towering over her, his breath already heavy with want. “I’m done talkin’,” he growled, stepping around the bar. “How ‘bout you show me what that mouth can do besides cut me down?”
Mia’s laugh was sharp, daring. “Oh, honey, you’re in over your head. But I like a challenge.” She grabbed his shirt, pulling him close, her lips hovering just an inch from his. The heat of her body, the scent of her skin—vanilla and sweat—drove him wild. She pushed him back against the bar, her hands sliding down his chest, fingers teasing the waistband of his jeans.
“You think you can handle me?” she purred, her voice a dangerous promise as she sank to her knees, her eyes locked on his. The bar was silent except for the hum of the neon sign outside, and the air between them was thick with horny anticipation. Mia’s fingers worked his zipper, her gaze never wavering, and Jake’s breath hitched, his hands already itching to tangle in her hair.
This was just the beginning, and they both knew it. The night was about to get a whole lot hotter.
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