-POV Derby
The coffee had gone cold on the counter, but neither of us reached for it again.
We stayed tangled in the quiet of my tiny kitchen, my legs still wrapped around his waist, his hands resting on my thighs like they belonged there. The city noise outside felt far away, muffled by the thick glass and the even thicker silence between us. Jordan’s forehead was pressed to mine, his breath warm against my lips, and for once he wasn’t rushing to fill the space with words or touches that demanded something back. He was simply… here.
And that was the rarest thing of all.
His thumb traced a slow, absent circle on the inside of my thigh — not seductive, not possessive, just gentle. The kind of touch that said he wasn’t thinking about the boardroom or Tamara or the next headline. He was t
