Page 40 of Kentrell

Too exposed.

With quick, nervous hands, I reached beneath my dress, brushing the edge of my underwear, bracing for a different kind of discovery. When my fingertips came back clean, a breath of relief left my lungs. It wasn’t that. But what it was… was worse. It meant my body wasn’t sounding some kind of false alarm.

It meant this ache was real.

And one night might not be enough.

I sat up straighter and reached for the Café Verve bag balanced on the edge of my desk, trying to distract myself with espresso and sugar. The scent of rich roast hit me as I opened the top, revealing two slices of tiramisu nestled like temptation. I reached for a napkin, leaned forward to open the drawer, and knocked the bag clean off the desk.

“Seriously?” I groaned, stooping to retrieve it—only to freeze at the sight of a pair of familiar pumps under my desk.

My spine straightened immediately.

“Mars.”

“Yeah. What the hell were you on last night?” she asked, her voice teasing and suspicious all at once.

I blinked at her, caught somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed. She smirked, chin tilted up, eyes narrowing as she took a dramatic sniff of the air.

“It smells like sex in here.”

“It does not.” But I laughed, because I couldn’t help it.

“Nah,” she shrugged, grinning. “But it does smell like a man’s been in here.” Her gaze swept the office, full of theatrics. “Mmm. And his scent is divine.”

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back like she was melting into a fantasy. My jaw tensed as I watched her put on her little show. Deep down, something stirred in me—something sharp and ugly.

Jealousy.

I had never felt it around my friends. Never needed to. But hearing her moan over his scent like that twisted something in my chest. It hit fast and uninvited, like a slap in the dark. I bit down on my bottom lip, willing the feeling away, guilt slipping into the space it left behind.

This wasn’t who I was. I didn’t get jealous. I didn’t need to. I kept my head down, stayed in control, and played by the rules. But those rules were unraveling now, thread by thread, and I didn’t know how to stop it. The kiss had stripped something from me—some sense of detachment, some thin armor I didn’t even know I’d been wearing.

And now I was exposed.

Mars studied me in silence for a moment, her smirk fading. “What’s wrong?”

I glanced down at my hands, fingers tightening around the napkin I still hadn’t used. I could lie. I could brush her off with something sarcastic or dismissive. But we didn’t do that—notwith each other. Mars had always been the one person I could count on to see through my performances. She could call out every silent scream I swallowed behind a composed face.

I lifted my eyes to hers and inhaled slowly.

“He kissed me.”

Her brows shot up, but her expression didn’t explode into the kind of teasing I expected. Instead, she leaned back on her heels and whispered, “Finally.” Then her whole face lit up like she’d just found the last piece to a puzzle.

“Oowee!” She grinned wide, fist pumping the air like she’d won a bet. “Iknewthat man wanted a taste! You been looking like a fresh-baked blessing ever since he walked into your life. But Iknewit was mutual.”

I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, trying not to drown in the whirlwind her energy kicked up.

Mars’s grin only grew. “Just say it.”

“Say what?” I asked, feigning innocence.

She narrowed her eyes and took a step closer. “Say what you really want to say. What your thighs been whispering since yesterday. Go on. Let it out.”

I let out a long breath, slumping back into my chair. I spun once. Then twice. Trying to ground myself. When I finally stopped, I looked at her.

“Is it bad to want more?”

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