-POV Derby
The silence in the pantry was suffocating.
I had pulled back — just an inch, just enough to stop the words from spilling out — but Jordan didn’t move. His hand stayed on my neck, fingers still tangled in my hair, thumb resting over the wild flutter of my pulse. His other palm remained flat against my waist, warm and unyielding, like he refused to let even a single centimeter of distance grow between us.
He didn’t like it.
I could feel it in the way his body tensed, in the subtle shift of his shoulders, in the way his dark eyes narrowed just slightly. The rare flicker of disappointment I’d seen a moment ago was still there, but now it was sharpening into something else.
Something more direct.
Something a little more dominant.
“Derby.” His voice was low, rough, and far too
