Page 169 of Kentrell

I giggled. “Idodo that, don’t I?”

“Uh huh,” he cracked up. “I ain’t complaining though.”

“Why would you…” I sucked my teeth as he smirked. “…youmademe like that.”

“Oh, so I made you fast now?”

I smacked his chest. “I amnotfast!”

“Yes, you is—yo mama gon’ be mad at me.”

“No she won’t…” I started, then paused. Thought about it. “Okay, shemightnot like the idea—but I’m 24. I canfuck.”

“Oooh, Zoe!” he sang, all childish and loud, like he was on a playground snitching. “Now who being crass and arrogant?”

My mouth dropped open. I threw my hands over my face, laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

Because hegotme. Threw my words back at me—my exact wordsfrom the first time he stepped into my office all smooth and smug.

“My dick gotchu talkin’ yo shit—Eeeee!” He grabbed his crotch through his sweats, drawing my attention to the very obvious, very threatening outline stretching down his thigh like it had something to say.

I dropped my hands and stared, pretending to be annoyed.

“That’s exactly what Idon’tneed right now.”

He raised a brow. “You sure? ‘Cause he lookin’ at you like he ready for round four.”

I snorted, then groaned, and fell right back into his chest. “You ain’t evenright.”

“Nah, baby. I’m exactly right. For you.”

His words hit me low… had my heart fluttering in ways I wasn’t ready for.

And before I could stop myself—before overthinking kicked in—a question slipped out. One I knew I wouldn’t sleep without asking.

“So… you’re my boyfriend?”

I peeked up at him, heart thudding too fast to ignore… too loud to drown out.

His arm tightened around me, his voice smooth and unbothered. “If you wanna put a title to it—shit, yeah.”

He said it so casually, like it was nothing. But to me, it wasn’tnothing.

And maybe he saw that on my face, because he leaned in closer and added, “I’myoman, Zoe LaShay Davis—yo homie, lover,friend.”

That did it.

I melted straight into his chest, the tension in my shoulders dissolving as the words settled over me like silk.

He poked the side of my face and grinned. “A homie lover friend is what I’m lookin’ for. A homie lover friend is what I’m lookin’ for…”

I giggled and sang right along. “Someone who can relate to what I have in store!”

“She can kick back with the homies—playin’ spades, gettin’ paid!” he added, off-key and too loud.

We both burst out laughing, collapsing into each other like teenagers sneaking in love after curfew.

Oh my God.

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