“Ryder, come on, man. Some of us actually want to see the game. It’s almost 4 p.m.,” Nate called from the other side of the door.

Ryder exhaled slowly, his patience hanging by a thread. His forehead dropped to mine, his breath hot against my skin, the frustration rolling off him in waves.

He sighed. “He’s annoying me.”

I bit back a smirk. "Just answer him." I whispered.

With a final groan, he pulled away, just slightly, his fingers still brushing against my waist. “Wait ...