“It’s done then,” he said. “I will come back for you.”

That was the first promise Philip Batiste made to her.

SHE LET OUT a long sigh as she cleaned the last table. It had been a long workday at Anna’s, her uncle’s small restaurant. The idea of the only daughter of two wealthy individuals working at a restaurant was unheard of in their community, as were a lot of other things, which was why all of her neighbors’ houses contained more secrets than a confessional. All of Amara’s friends were inheritance babies. She was no different in most aspects. In fact, the main thing that set her family apart from others in their Westchester, New York neighborhood was that her family’s secrets were a little darker than most. Or so she thought. Either way, working part-time with her Uncle Vlady was the last thing her parents needed to worry about.

Amara slid in the booth, taking a moment to close her eyes as she rested her head on her arm. The restaurant was closed and mostly quiet, save for the chatter and pans clinking in the back. Genevieve was probably out back taking her smoke break, or busy nagging Kyle, one of the cooks, in the kitchen. The circular motions she was making with her cleaning hand slowed to a halt as she fell into a light slumber. A loud bang on the now-locked door of the restaurant startled Amara awake. Sitting up quickly, and disoriented, her knee hit the underside of the table,. She let out a string of curse words as she rubbed it and stood and walked to the door, her heart was beating wildly as she did so. Using the rag in her hand, she wiped the condensation from the glass and looked into a familiar pair of brown eyes. Light brown with tiny specks of green that seemed to flicker in the light, they always made her feel like she was looking into a kaleidoscope. Amara turned the lock as Colin flashed his megawatt smile at her.

“You’re early,” she said, holding the door open for him.

In one swift motion, he stepped in, closed the door with his foot, and grabbed both sides of her face, placing a hard kiss on her lips.

“I missed you,” he said, still holding her face in his hands. He looked at her as if she was a priceless work of art, always managing to sizzle her with a level of passion that made shocks run through her body when he was near.

“It’s only been… seven hours,” she said, looking at the clock behind him, as she ran a hand through his soft, wavy hair. She ruffled it, massaging his scalp when he closed his eyes and leaned into her.

“Seven hours too long. It felt like a lifetime,” he murmured, opening his eyes and meeting hers once more. His eyes were always so direct, so intense, that she felt speared by them. Her knees always weakened and her blood thundered inside of her when he looked at her that way. Amara rolled her eyes and drew her hand away, turning around to wipe the counter of the bar.

“You exaggerate.”

“Maybe,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her so that her back was flush against the hard plains of his chest. Amara’s breath caught at the contact, and by the memories from that morning that, for the thousandth time today, stole her attention.

“I did miss you, though. I just want you to finish up here,” he whispered against her ear, kissing the back of it.

She gulped for air as her breath quickened, her body igniting by his touch.

“So that I can take you home and get you naked again.” He licked the shell of her ear slowly.

She tried to shimmy away from him, but he held her tighter.

“Or I can bend you over right here and lift up that dress your wearing. Tell me, are you wet, Mara?” he asked, in a low, seductive voice. “Are my words turning you on? I know you love it when I talk dirty.”

“Colin,” she said breathlessly, shaking her shoulders to move away.

He pinned her stomach to the counter and unwrapped his arms, placing his hands on either side of her as he ground his hips against her bottom.

“Colin,” she warned, looking around to make sure nobody could see them. “People can see us…outside…if anybody walks over here…” her mind played out all the different scenarios—none of them ending well. He ignored her, dropping his hand to trail it upward along her inner thigh, gently pulling her legs open. He traced circles on her soft skin as her breath quickened in anticipation. Amara pushed her bottom back against his hips and stifled a moan, as Colin began to massage her through her thin panties.

“Hmmm,” he said, his breath tickling her ear. “Silk…you wore these for me?”

“Who else would I wear them for?” She inhaled sharply as two of his fingers pushed inside her.

“Have you been wet all day? Thinking about me?” he murmured. “Have you been thinking about me pounding into you from this position again?”

Amara couldn’t answer; she could only circle her hips in response.

“Answer me, Amara,” Colin said as he withdrew from her.

She gasped. “Yes, dammit. Yes,” she answered, pushing his hand back under her dress.

He chuckled from behind her, and damn if his laugh permeating through her didn’t turn her on more. “Uh-uh,” Colin tsked, shaking his head slowly. “You need to finish your work.”

He stepped away from her so suddenly, she had to grab on to the counter in order to stay upright.

“What?” She pivoted her body toward him. “Seriously?” she seethed, and then groaned loudly when she saw the amusement painted on his face. “I hate you,” she said as she began to walk away from him with the dirty rag in her hand.

Colin’s hand shot out and latched onto her arm, stopping her forward momentum. She didn’t want to turn around, she wanted to continue walking to the back of the diner so that she could clock out and go, but she turned around, nevertheless.

“You don’t hate me, baby,” he said, giving her a lopsided smile. His eyes were soft as he looked at her, and she knew she couldn’t stay mad.

She exhaled. “I kind of hate you.” She looked at the floor between them.

Colin laughed softly and lifted her chin, stepping in and kissing her slowly and thoroughly, until she was weak in the knees.

“You so don’t hate me,” he said, his voice husky and full of desire. “Now hurry up so I can finish what I started.”

At twenty-four, Colin was two years older than Amara. Already settled in his job and working on his master’s degree in finance, he worked for his father at Wolfe Investments Group, a huge company that represented equally large clients. If you had money, you were investing with Wolfe. Amara’s own parents consulted with Wolfe and used their services.

Colin and Amara’s families had been neighbors for as long as she could remember, and they’d gone to the same school and even hung out with the same crowd. Attracted to each other for years, they flirted on and off before they’d decided to act on it.

She smiled as she followed Colin toward the back exit, switching off lights as she passed them. Everybody was gone by the time she finished wiping down all of the counters and setting the tables with tomorrow’s special menus. Amara paused when she reached the back room, where Colin stood among the rows of extra plates and silverware. She switched off the lights, figuring he would follow her, but he pulled her into his chest instead.

“What are you—?” she started to ask, but was cut off by his kiss. The way his mouth claimed hers always made her stomach drop. He was always so passionate, so enthralled with her, that it almost made her feel uncomfortable. Sometimes it was too much too soon. They were too young to feel that intensely about one another. Or maybe it was just hormones. Either way, he always swept her up in the force that was his adoration for her.

“I was dying for you to finish,” he said. It was a pant against her lips.