Fluir

He left cold Massachusetts for Atlanta. He builds perfect trips for other people — curated, researched, confirmed in triplicate — to places he's never quite let himself fully feel. He has rules. Good ones. Sensible ones, built after a Croatian bartender named Luka taught him at twenty-five exactly what it felt like to think you were seen and find out you weren't.

The rule is simple: don't get involved with hospitality workers in other countries. He's kept it for six years. It has served him well. He is keeping it in Colombia.

Then Mateo Salazar pulls up on a motorcycle outside a hotel in Medellín and says his name, and something about the way the vowels land — warmer than they've ever been in anyone else's mouth — tells Camden this particular rule is about to have structural problems.

Mateo is their guide for sixteen days across Colombia. He is warm in the specific way of someone for whom warmth has never required effort. He notices things without being asked. He moves through Cartagena like a man who grew up in its streets, which he did, and through every other city like a man who loves his country more than he knows how to say in English, which he also did. He has tattoos Camden keeps cataloguing and a smile that does things to Camden's carefully maintained composure and an absolute refusal to acknowledge that any walls exist, which is its own specific problem.

Sixteen days. Medellín, the Coffee Region, Cartagena, Tayrona National Park. One FAM trip that was supposed to be about work.

Camden's rule survives approximately seven days.

Fluir is the first book in the Fuego series — a slow burn MM romance set across the most beautiful country Camden has ever stood inside, for readers who like their heat high, their burns slow, and their endings warm and completely earned.

Colombia breaks everyone. That's what Mateo says.

Camden is starting to think he doesn't mind.

Explicit content. 18+.