She laughed and shook her head. It really hadn’t been that long since they’d seen each other. He wasn’t normally that crazed over being with her, but Amara had to admit she was flattered. Colin placed his warm lips on her neck and drew his kisses downward as he scooped her up behind her knees and deposited her on the edge of the sink. It was a sink that was rarely used, and Amara wondered absently if it was sturdy enough to hold her.

“I thought you wanted to go home?” she asked in a whispered pant.

“I did, but I wanted you more.” Lick. “And more.” Suck. “And the longer I waited for you—watching you move your hips the way you do—and those legs…you know what your legs do to me.” The hands that were massaging her calves were working their way up the insides of her legs.. Amara was proud of her legs. They were the payoff of years of cheerleading and dance she’d been in. The short denim dress she wore showed off every curve of her defined legs, and gave her just enough room to open them a little wider for Colin’s eager hands.

“Show me,” she said, throwing her head back.

“Show you what?” he teased.

“Show me what my hips do to you—what my legs do to… oh God.” It was the last coherent thought she had before he hooked his long fingers inside of her. His fingers were an oxymoron, callused and soft, depending on what side he let you feel.

“Feels good, right?”

She nodded rapidly.

“Tell me how good it feels, Mara,” he rasped, his mouth against her ear.

“It’s good… it feels good…oh God, just don’t stop.”

“I’m not.” He said, as he withdrew his hand. Before she could even think to complain, Colin pulled his boxers down and pushed his length into her with such force that Amara’s head hit the wall behind them with a thump.

“I could never stop,” he said. “Not when you feel this good.”

She moaned her agreement, wondering idly if it would always be that good. They’d been doing this: meeting in places, going home with each other, messing around in public for almost a year and still, every time they got together, it felt like they were weaving magic. They couldn’t get enough of one another.

They were frenzied, like mating rabbits. Any place, any time, they were always frantic to touch the other. Colin pushed inside of her slower, grasping for control, and she knew he was close, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he snaked an arm around her and another in between them. He hated finishing before her. He always made it a point to make her orgasm before his bellowed through him. As he pressed and circled his hips against her, tiny, uncontrollable spasms worked their way through her. Amara bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out loudly and opened her eyes to find Colin looking right at her, right into her soul.

She wanted to look away as he impaled her one last time, but couldn’t. His eyes were raw, honest, and way too wise for his age. She always thought she could see the truth in her own reflection when she looked at him. It was hard to keep feelings at bay when he looked at her that way, like they belonged to one another. She had to remind herself they didn’t. It wasn’t like that between them.

As if on cue, the hallway light flickered off just as Colin slid out of her and helped Amara to her feet. Everything was dark as they collected their scattered clothes. Using their cell phone lights to re-dress, they laughed as they bumped one another.

“Have you seen my other shoe?” she asked as she hopped on one foot and slipped on her right shoe.

“Nope. Have you seen the condom wrapper?”

She gasped. “That’s not good. We need to find that.”

They laughed as they stumbled around, cleaning up all evidence of their backroom romance. All items accounted for, Amara locked up the restaurant and Colin he ushered her into the back seat of his SUV. His driver, Sean, was waiting to take them back to Colin’s place. Amara said hello and thanked him for waiting before she scooted across the seat. Colin sidled up next to her and tucked Amara into his chest as he ran his fingers down her arm.

“Jasmine,” he murmured, his face in her hair. “You always smell like Jasmine.”

“Lilies,” she murmured as her eyes closed. She was so exhausted.

“What?”

“I smell like lilies, not Jasmine.”

“Yes, lilies. Lilies, Jasmine. Same thing,” he said with a chuckle.

She felt him shift beside her and opened her eyes, noticing they were already in front of Colin’s building.

“We got here so fast.”

“You slept the entire way.”

“I needed that,” Amara said, smiling as she leaned up to kiss the stubble on his chin.

“You know how old I turn this year?”

“Twenty-five.”

Her lips twisted into a smile. She knew where he was going with this. He always found a way to bring up the magic age. To Amara, turning twenty-five would be just another birthday. For Colin, it meant taking on more responsibility in his dad’s company —something he was actually excited about.

As Amara stepped out of the car, her smile faltered and a shiver ran through her. The feeling of being watched prompted her to turn and scan her surroundings as she held on to Colin’s hand a little harder.

“You okay?” he asked, searching her face. He placed one hand on the small of her back as he held her other one.

“Yeah…” she said slowly, searching the shadows.

The neighborhood his apartment building was in was definitely safe, but in that moment she felt anything but.

“You’re overworking yourself. I don’t understand why you won’t—” Colin’s argument fell on deaf ears as Amara’s distraction and increasing anxiety tuned him out..

Her eyes wandered to the building beside them, where she saw a group of people in dress clothes getting into a limousine. That’s when she saw him. Philip.

“Okay, Amir, here is what we’ll do, I will pay all of your debt, you can keep your damn house and your luxurious cars, and in turn, you give me your daughter,” Philip said.

Amara’s mouth dropped open, but she covered it quickly to make sure no sound escaped that would give away her eavesdropping.

“My daughter?” her father asked, outraged. “We’re not exchanging cattle!”

“How old is Amara now? Seventeen?” Philip asked, ignoring her father.

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“Too young... in American standards,” Philip said.

He spoke with a thick French accent that Amara had always thought was funny, until that day. This time it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Please, just give me time. I’ll pay you back every cent. With interest.”

“Every cent,” Philip repeated with a rueful laugh. “Old friend, you’ve just told me that you gambled your savings account away, there is a lien on your property and cars that the bank is ready to repossess. To make matters worse, your wife is now sick, and I’m sure she knows nothing of this. Did I get everything?”

Amara’s heart was nestled in her throat so tightly that she couldn’t even gasp. She couldn’t believe her father would put their family in such a situation—especially knowing her mother’s health was so poor. Amara wondered what would happen if they lost everything they owned. Where would they go? This was the house she grew up in. Amara never wanted to move out of Westchester, she’d dreamed of taking her kids to visit their grandparents in that very house someday. And their cars? They could just go and take their cars? What would her mother say? She’d be heart broken. Her mother was always keeping up appearances for her sake, always trying to show her own father that she was fine without his help. She would be devastated if they lost everything.

“Please,” her father pleaded; he sounded like he was crying, which only made Amara worry more. “I only need some money up front. Anna will need the money. I will sell my house—I will sell my cars to pay you back—but I cannot give you what you want. My daughteris not for sale.”