Forbidden Neva Tasted This GOOD
“So you’re just going to let yourself in now?”
The voice came from behind her, calm and amused—and it sent a shiver straight down her spine.
Aire turned quickly. Too quickly.
Marcus Cole stood at the edge of the hallway, tall and solid, dressed casually in a fitted black T-shirt and jeans that had no business fitting him that well. His sleeves hugged his arms, tattoos barely visible, salt-and-pepper beard neatly trimmed.
He didn’t look like someone’s dad.
He looked like trouble.
“I—Nia forgot her laptop,” Aire said, words tumbling out faster than she meant them to. “She asked me to grab it.”