Page 166 of Kentrell

Still he didn’t stop.

“I know we gotta leave this place tomorrow. But I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He rubbed the back of his neck, like he hated how vulnerable that sounded. “You locked in now, far as I’m concerned.”

I looked down, biting my lip.

“Zoe.”

My eyes met his again, and the softness in his was something I wasn’t ready for—but needed.

“I might not say a lot of shit the way you used to hearin’ it… but don’t let that confuse you. Youmatterto me. For real.”

My fork hit the plate, forgotten.

Because in all the noise, in all the heat between us…

That was the one thing I’d needed to hear most.

I got up slowly, walked around the island, and stepped between his legs where he sat on the barstool. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my forehead against his.

“I hear you, Kentrell.”

He nodded once, lips brushing mine. “Good. Just don’t forget.”

I stayed there, wrapped in his arms, bare in every way—and for the first time in a long time, I felt free.

Not just free from clothes.

Free from expectations.

Free from performing.

Just… free.

To be a woman. Soft. Honest. Wanting. Wanted.

Naked in the kitchen. Held tight by the man I hadn’t even realized I was waiting my whole life to meet.

I looked up at him, and before I could say a word, he bent down and kissed the top of my forehead.

I smiled. One of those soft, slow, heart-full smiles that bloom from the inside out.

He exhaled deeply, still holding me. “You finished?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, brushing my fingers across his jaw. “Thank you for feeding me, bae.”

He smirked, but the weight of my hand against his face made him still. I held him there—gazing.

His skin was smooth and dark, the color of hot fudge and strength. His jaw was sharp, but his lips soft. And those slanted, intimidating eyes—the ones that had once looked at me like I was a target—only softened when they were looking atme.

I knew people wouldn’t understand him.

Wouldn’t pictureustogether.

But I didn’t care.

Because if the man I had to spend the rest of my life withwasn’thim…

I’d choose a life of loneliness.

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