Sneak Peek:
The southern air held a different type of humidity. Or maybe it was an internal projection, because Julz felt like the air was suffocating him. His tongue chased his lip, and his fingers rubbed the skin at his jawline. The brick house stood only a few feet from him, but it felt miles away. In the middle of this East Atlanta neighborhood, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His feet were covered in a pair of Dior tennis shoes. His body dripped down in an essential set, and his lining was harsh enough to kill. Julz was a bitch’s wet dream, but a nightmare in the same breath.
