Page 69 of Kentrell

And ruined.

Because I knew right then… I wasn’t waiting until the weekend.

Whatever this thing was…

It had already started.

The kiss deepened again before I even realized I’d leaned into it. Like my body was answering for me.

His hand stayed right where it had been—on my thigh… firm… claiming. And then it moved. Slow. Purposeful. His fingers crept under the hem of my skirt… inch by inch… like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t pressed about the risk. Like he knew damn well I wasn’t gonna stop him. And the worst part? He was right.

When his fingers grazed the silk lining of my panties, my breath caught. I could feel my pulse in places it had no business showing up during lunch. Then he slipped under. One slow swipe. Right across the center of me—wet, warm, shamelessly ready. I gasped into his mouth.

That’s when he pulled back. Just slightly. Just enough for me to see the smug satisfaction in his eyes. His mouth still close, lips still tingling against mine. He chuckled low.

“Yeah,” he said softly, cocky and sure. “That’s what I thought.”

I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe right. I reached for my wine glass with a hand that barely felt steady and downed the rest in two gulps. Didn’t even care if it looked uncivilized. The heat in my face had nothing to do with the alcohol.

And of course… the waiter approached.

I scrambled to sit upright, crossing my legs fast, tugging my skirt down like it hadn’t just been pushed up by a man who clearly gave zero fucks about table manners.

The waiter smiled politely. “Ready to order?”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

Kentrell leaned back, casual as hell. “We’ll take the grilled lamb with roasted garlic mash and the crab-stuffed mushrooms to start.”

The waiter nodded. “Excellent choice.”

I nodded too. Like I had anything to do with it.

When he walked away, I tried to slow my breathing. Tried to collect myself. I could barely think. Flustered. Thrown. Still throbbing between my thighs.

What the hell was I doing?

I folded my hands in my lap, staring at the wineglass I’d just emptied, replaying every second of the last five minutes. This man had me coming undone in a public place. And I’d let him.

My brain spiraled. Because I was not built for this. Because I’d never—Because?—

What the hell did you just sign yourself up for, Zoe?

And then… Mars.

WWMD.

What Would Mars Do?

Mars wouldn’t fold. Mars would lean in.

I took a breath, real slow. And when I was sure the waiter wouldn’t pop back up again, I made my move. One foot slid out of my pump. Deliberate. Smooth.

Under the table, I stretched my leg toward him. Felt the shift in the air before I even made contact. The tip of my toes brushed his ankle first. Then his shin. Then higher.

Kentrell’s eyes snapped to mine, jaw tightening just slightly as I dragged my foot across his thigh, slow and teasing. And then—right there. The heat of him… thick and hard under his jeans.

I pressed the arch of my foot into it.

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