-POV Derby
The next morning I woke up in Jordan’s bed.
I didn’t remember falling asleep.
After he f****d me against the door, after he carried me to his bed and took me again — slower this time, deeper, whispering filthy praises while he filled me — I must have passed out from exhaustion and too many orgasms.
Now sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting his bare chest in gold.
He was still asleep beside me, one arm draped possessively over my waist.
My heart clenched.
This was dangerous.
This felt too much like something real.
I tried to slip out quietly, but the moment I moved, his arm tightened.
“Don’t,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. “Stay.”
I froze.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “I have work. And you… you have a fiancée waiting somewhere.”
His eyes
