One Night, Wrong Man

Chapter 6 — Too Close.

-POV Derby

I didn’t go to his place on Thursday night.

I told myself it was dignity. That I was smarter than this. That one night had already cost me too much.

But the truth was simpler and far more dangerous — I was terrified of how badly I still wanted him.

The weekend passed in a blur of frantic avoidance. I cleaned my apartment until it sparkled, answered emails at midnight, and tried not to replay the way his voice had dropped when he told me he could still feel me clenching around his c**k. Every time the memory hit, heat pooled low in my belly and I had to press my thighs together like I was hiding something shameful.

By Monday I was exhausted from pretending.

The office felt different now. Every hallway carried the possibility that he might appear. Every email notification made my stomach flip. I kept my head down and told myself the briefing had been a one-time slip. Nothing more.

Until 4:17 PM.

A new calendar invite appeared in my inbox.

Private Strategy Discussion – Vasquez Group Integration
Participants: J. Vasquez, D. Odellia
Time: Tomorrow, 7:00 PM
Location: Vasquez Tower – Executive Lounge (Private)

No other attendees.

My mouse hovered over the “Decline” button for a full thirty seconds.

Then I clicked “Accept.”

I hated myself the second I did it.

The next day dragged like slow torture. I changed outfits three times before settling on a simple navy dress that hugged my curves just enough to feel reckless. When I stepped into Vasquez Tower at 6:50 PM, the marble lobby felt like a trap wrapped in luxury.

A sleek assistant led me to the private elevator. “Mr. Vasquez is waiting.”

The doors opened directly into the executive lounge — floor-to-ceiling windows, soft lighting, and a single long table set for two. No papers. No presentation. Just him.

Jordan stood by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, revealing the forearms I remembered gripping my thighs. He turned when I stepped in, eyes darkening the moment they landed on me.

“Derby.”

Just my name. But the way he said it — low, rough, like he was already tasting me — sent a shiver straight down my spine.

I stayed near the elevator. “This isn’t a strategy discussion.”

“No,” he admitted, walking toward me slowly. “It’s not.”

He stopped an arm’s length away. Close enough that I could smell him. Close enough that my body remembered exactly how it felt when he was pressed against me, thick and hard.

“You came anyway,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have.”

“But you did.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower, tracing the neckline of my dress like he was remembering what was underneath. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about me f*****g you again.”

My breath hitched. The memory crashed over me — the way he’d paused right before pushing all the way in, eyes locked on mine, the slow, controlled thrust that stretched me so perfectly I whimpered. The low groan he made when I clenched around him like I never wanted him to leave.

“I’ve been trying not to,” I whispered.

Jordan took one more step. Now I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Stop trying.” His voice was darker now. “I haven’t stopped thinking about how you looked spread out on my bed, moaning my name while I buried myself inside you. How you clenched around me like you never wanted me to leave.”

Heat flooded between my legs. I could feel myself getting wetter with every word.

“Jordan…”

He lifted a hand, not touching me yet, just hovering near my waist. “Tell me to leave right now and I will. Tell me you don’t want my hands on you again. Tell me you don’t want me to push you against that window, pull your dress up, and f**k you until the only thing you can say is my name.”

My knees weakened. The image was too vivid — palms pressed to the glass, city lights sparkling below, his c**k sliding into me from behind while he gripped my hips and drove deep.

I should have said no.

Instead, I whispered, “I can’t.”

Jordan’s eyes flashed with something raw and possessive.

He closed the last inch of distance. One hand finally touched me — fingers brushing my waist, sliding slowly up my side. The touch was light, but it burned.

“Then stop fighting it,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips were inches from mine. “Because I’m done pretending I don’t want to ruin you all over again.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. My body was screaming yes even as my mind screamed danger.

His thumb brushed my lower lip.

“Tell me what you want, Derby.”

I opened my mouth, breath trembling.

But before I could answer, the elevator dinged behind me.

Someone was coming up.

Jordan didn’t move away. His eyes stayed locked on mine, dark with promise and warning.

The doors started to slide open.

And in that split second, I realized the real problem wasn’t that I couldn’t say no.

It was that I didn’t want to.

End of Chapter 6