The bathroom was as luxurious as the rest of the penthouse.

Marble floors, a massive walk-in shower, sleek counters, dim lighting that made everything feel expensive.

Ryder was already at the sink, grabbing a towel. “Sit,” he said, motioning toward the black vanity stool beside the counter.

I ignored him, leaning against the doorframe instead. “I’ll stand.”

He shot me a look but didn’t argue.

Then, without hesitation, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Fuck.

I forced myself to keep my eyes on his face. Not on the well-defined abs. Not on the firm chest. Not on the deep V-line disappearing beneath the...