The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(55)

“I’m sorry.” She wondered if anyone had seen much of this brooding, dark side of Samson Lima. Words didn’t feel like enough, so she wrapped her arms around his waist. “That must have been painful.”

He held stiff for a minute, then relaxed, putting his arms around her, engulfing her in his body heat. “I loved the game. I loved my family more.”

She lifted her chin so she could look up at him. She opened her mouth to say something. What, she wasn’t sure. Something smart and clever and kind. But the next thing she knew, his lips were on hers.

His hands slid over her back, to her butt, and rested there for a second. She pressed tighter against him, taking the kiss deeper. The energy shift between them was seamless, from comforting and pained to needy and lustful. The adrenaline that had fueled her flight to his place returned in a vengeance, channeled into lust. He pulled away to speak. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“We don’t have to think.” Better to think later. Putting her brain on a small time-out was necessary right now.

Let the anger and fear transform into mutual greed.

“I like that plan,” he muttered.

Her clothes were easy to remove. She only had to slide her yoga pants down her legs and yank off her hoodie and shirt. One of the plus sides of athleisure.

When she was naked, he surveyed her. She hadn’t worn a bra today, and her nipples peaked when he ran his gaze over them. His big hands reached up to cup her breasts and they both shuddered.

He was far too overdressed. She attacked the button on his jeans, struggling with the stiff denim. He tried to help, but his hands were more in the way than anything else. “You do your shirt,” she ordered, trying to concentrate.

She had to stop when his T-shirt cleared his head. Their hurried interludes in her car hadn’t given her enough time to appreciate his body. Not at all. His chest was so wide, the perfect size to curl up on and take a nap or pet or bite or lick . . .

Bottom line, she could do a lot to that chest.

“Bedroom,” he said, in a guttural tone, distracting her from her plans to world tour his upper torso, and she placed her hand in his, happy to comply. Their foreplay had lasted weeks now. She wanted his body driving inside hers.

They could forget, like they’d forgotten for that night in Cayucos. Forget about who she was and who he was and all of the baggage that made up Rhiannon Hunter and Samson Lima.

He tugged her into the bedroom. The sun was setting outside, but the blinds were pulled in this room, making it dark and cool, the only light spilling in from the living room. She shoved the comforter down and got in the bed while he undressed.

She might actually break her final rule and solicit pics of this dick. Pretty indeed.

Rhiannon tried not to lick her lips for fear it might come across as too lascivious, but her mouth watered when he walked over to the nightstand. He pulled a fresh box of condoms out of the drawer and ripped it open.

He donned the condom, pushing the latex over his curved, thick cock and turned to her. She’d hoped to lick him, play with him, take him in her mouth, but he moved over her so quickly, his body sliding over hers.

“Can this time be quick?” he asked, his voice rough.

This time. This time implied more times, and she squelched the surge of happiness that came with that possibility.

None of that dangerous hope nonsense. Not now, not ever.

But she didn’t want to explain that to him now, when he was so close, his body heat alone making her ache. He bent his head when she didn’t respond immediately and licked her nipple.

She gasped. “Yes. Quick. Do it.”

He pushed her leg aside and sank inside her. She groaned and arched, forcing him to speed up to a faster pace. His fingers clenched over her thigh and he moved harder, deeper, shafting her in long, fast strokes.

Delicious.

She slid her hands down over his back, slick with sweat, and grasped his pumping buttocks. He pressed his mouth against her neck and kissed her, his tongue working over her sensitive skin. “Fuck,” he moaned.

Rhiannon wound her leg over his hips. “Harder.”

He took her request, his body slamming into hers. The coil of passion inside her belly went tighter, but that sliver of a peak remained out of reach.

Until he put some space between them and his fingers went searching between her legs. He rubbed a slow seductive circle around her clit, his delicate fingers at odds with the furious pace of his cock. Again. And again. She broke, the climax washing over her.

He groaned, his body tensed for a long moment as he came. His arms caught his body weight before he could collapse on her.

Fool. Didn’t he know?

Of course not, how could he. She pressed down on his shoulders. “Rest on me. I like it.”

His breath panted against her neck. “I’m too heavy.”

“No such thing.” She tugged at him, and he finally complied, relaxing on top of her, shoving her into the expensive mattress.

Ah yes. She felt completely covered and hugged and smushed. She loved it. Like one giant sweatshirt covering her whole body, only this one was made of muscle, not fleece.

She didn’t realize she’d made the comment out loud, until he turned his head, a puzzled smile on his soft face. “I’m a hoodie?”

“It’s the same feeling, like I’m being hugged,” she tried to explain, though she wasn’t sure how. She felt loopy and punch-drunk, like a balloon that had had half the air leached out of it. “Never mind. I’m tired.”