Page 199 of Kentrell

Something bigger.

Darker, maybe.

I felt him move before I saw it.

Kentrell cut the engine… stepped out… circled the truck.

And when he opened my door, it was like muscle memory for him. Like he’d done it for me forever.

The cold slapped me first—sharp and biting against my skin.

Then the quiet.

That thick, suburban quiet that wraps around you different than city noise.

It was still.

Too still.

He reached into the backseat, grabbed my overnight bag—the one I packed before my whole life imploded.

I slid out, boots crunching against the frosted stone of the driveway.

The air smelled like pine and winter earth… with something faintly metallic lingering underneath.

Kentrell noticed the shiver that worked up my spine.

He draped an arm around me, pulling me closer, like my body belonged against his by default.

Then he ushered me toward the front steps.

The house loomed larger up close.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed in black steel.

A wide, sleek front door… matte black with no handle. Just a sensor pad and a soft mechanicalclickas it unlocked when he stepped close.

I followed him up the steps… heart thudding too fast… too light… too unsure.

Inside…

Warmth.

Dim lighting spilling from recessed fixtures.

A wide-open foyer with marble floors that looked too flawless to step on with shoes…

Custom woodwork framing the hallway like an art piece itself.

And dead center…

An abstract metal sculpture that probably cost more than my first year of law school.

The air smelled different here too.

Expensive.

Like leather… cedar… and something dark and masculine that clung to the walls.

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