One Night, Wrong Man

Chapter 4 — The Same Room.

-POV Derby

Thursday came too fast.

I stood in front of the mirror adjusting my blouse, fingers trembling. Simple black pencil skirt, crisp white top, minimal makeup. Professional. Safe. But every shift of fabric reminded me of his hands — rough and sure — gripping my hips, pulling me back onto him while he thrust deep and slow, filling me so completely I forgot how to breathe.

I could still feel the stretch. The burn. The way he’d paused right before pushing all the way in, eyes locked on mine like he wanted me to feel exactly who was claiming me.

I grabbed my bag and left before I could talk myself out of going.

The conference room was already filling up. I chose a seat near the back, heart hammering against my ribs. Then the door opened.

Jordan walked in.

Dark suit hugging his broad shoulders, crisp white shirt, the same calm, predatory presence that had wrecked me four nights ago. His eyes swept the room once — then locked straight onto me.

Time stopped.

Heat slammed into me so hard I had to press my thighs together under the table. I remembered everything in a rush: the way he’d pinned my wrists above my head, the low groan he made when I clenched around him, the way he’d watched my face the entire time like my pleasure was something he owned.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t acknowledge me. Just held my stare for one long, dangerous second, then looked away and took his seat at the head of the table like he hadn’t just set my entire body on fire with a single glance.

“Morning, everyone. Let’s begin.”

The presentation started. I tried to focus on the charts and numbers, but every time his low, steady voice filled the room, my body reacted like it still belonged to him. Phantom touches ghosted over my skin — his fingers digging into my thighs, his mouth on my neck, the slick sound of him moving inside me while he whispered how tight and wet I felt.

I crossed my legs tighter, biting the inside of my cheek until it hurt.

Twice his gaze flicked back to me. Once during risk factors. Once when the room laughed at something. Both times the look was brief, but heavy — the same intense stare he’d given me when he was buried to the hilt and grinding slow circles against my c**t.

By the time they opened Q&A, my panties were soaked and my n*****s were painfully tight against my blouse.

“Any questions from assistant staff?”

My hand moved before my brain could stop it.

Jordan’s eyes snapped to me. His jaw tightened — just a fraction, the same micro-tension I remembered when he was fighting not to come too soon while I rode him.

“Yes?” His voice was perfectly calm.

I swallowed hard. “Regarding the integration timeline… how do you plan to handle cultural differences?”

Safe question.

His answer was professional, detailed, flawless.

But his eyes never left mine. And when he finished, the corner of his mouth lifted — that tiny, dangerous smirk I remembered right before he flipped me onto my stomach, spread my legs, and f****d me deep from behind while growling how good I felt clenching around him.

I looked down at my notebook, cheeks burning, thighs slick.

The meeting ended twenty minutes later.

I stayed seated, pretending to organize notes. When I finally stood, he was already there — close enough that I could smell his clean woodsy scent, the same one that had surrounded me when he had me pressed against his sheets.

“Derby.”

My name in that low, rough voice sent another pulse of heat straight to my core.

I looked up. His face was perfectly professional, but his eyes were dark with the same hunger I remembered.

“We need to talk,” he said quietly.

My breath hitched.

“About the acquisition?” I managed.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then slowly dragged back up to my eyes.

“No.” His voice dropped even lower, just for me. “About the way you left my bed without saying goodbye… and how you’re still soaked just thinking about how deep I was inside you.”

The air between us crackled.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

He took one small step closer, close enough that no one else could hear.

“Meet me in the private lounge on the fifteenth floor after this,” he murmured. “Or I’ll come find you myself.”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He simply turned and walked out of the conference room like he hadn’t just threatened to ruin me all over again — right here, in the middle of my workplace.

And the worst part?

I already knew I was going to go.

End of Chapter 4