As I bend toward the nightstand for my phone, Ryder tortures me by kissing my neck, his face buried in my skin. I shiver at how good it feels. “Let me just tell her—” I halt when I notice the screen. CASE: Want to hang out tonight? “Forget it,” I say a little too fast. “It’s not her.” Ryder doesn’t miss the change in my tone. “Yeah? Who is it, then?” “Someone else.”
