The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(56)

“Me too.” He pressed a kiss against her neck. “Stay here and keep warm.” He rolled off her and she admired his back and that stupendous butt as he moved away.

Seriously, that butt could launch a thousand ships.

She lay there for a second or two as he did whatever he needed to do in the bathroom, but relaxing wasn’t her style, even if she was in a postcoital glow. She sat up. This room was as impersonal as the rest of the apartment, but there were more signs of Samson here. He was neat, she was happy to note, his open closet showing her his clothes hung up and organized by style and color.

The only mess were his jeans on the floor. She rose from the bed and picked them up, tossing them and his boxers on the armchair. A slip of paper fell out of one of the pockets.

She didn’t mean to look at it when she picked it up, but the phone number, smiley face, and words scrawled on the napkin were impossible to miss. Janet. Call me.

Oh.

She held the napkin for a second while the faucet turned on in the bathroom. She didn’t know what this feeling was. Disappointment. Jealousy, perhaps. Sadness.

Okay, she knew what the emotions were. This was a cliché, wasn’t it? The lover finding another woman’s number in her man’s pocket.

Only she wasn’t his lover, and he wasn’t her man. These emotions didn’t belong to her.

The reason they were seeing each other was, ostensibly, to prep him to date other women. She was the one who had told him ten million times this was temporary. She had no right to be jealous of Janet, whoever she was. Even if Samson had deemed the woman worthy enough to keep her number.

Rhiannon’s fingers tightened over the napkin. Was Janet sweet and loyal and kind?

The faucet shut off in the bathroom and it galvanized her into action. She shoved the napkin back into his jeans and went to the living room. She had her T-shirt and panties and pants on by the time he came to the door. He’d donned his boxers and was scratching his beautiful, perfect, smooth chest. His expression of sleepy satisfaction faded as he took in her fully-dressed appearance. “Are you leaving?”

“I’m sorry, I have to go into the office. Dating emergency,” she half joked and put her hoodie on, making sure to zip it all the way up.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not a sick cat this time?”

“I do have a cat, for your information. That wasn’t a lie.” Well, it had been at the time, but she’d made it true.

A frown appeared on his forehead, one she didn’t like. His sadness had vanished while they’d had sex. She may not like that he was collecting other women’s phone numbers, but that wasn’t his issue to deal with. It was hers. She took a step forward. “I really have to go. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Still, he puffed out his cheeks.

His visible disappointment was so cute, she had to come closer and slip her arms around his waist and press a kiss on his chest. “I’ll see you soon. Thanks for everything. This was really great.”

He returned her hug. “Thank you. Uh, was this why you came over here, or did you need something else?”

Ack. How had she forgotten? She almost slapped her forehead. The man had some kind of magical power over her, addling her brain. “Right. Are you going to talk to Annabelle soon?”

“I told you, she should be home any day now.”

She thought for a second, grateful the sex had cleared her head. She couldn’t tip Samson and Annabelle off to other buyers if Peter really didn’t have any intention of going after Matchmaker. The last thing she wanted to do was bid against herself. “I really need to speak to her, is all. It would be good if we could get together soon. I would love to do a deal that helps both of us out.”

If Samson thought it was weird that she’d raced over here to impress upon him how badly she wanted to speak to his aunt, he didn’t say so. “The second she’s stateside, I will tell her you want to talk to her. Promise.”

His promise shouldn’t carry so much weight for her, but it did. She allowed him to walk her to the door. His bare chest and thick thighs called to her, but she tried to ignore them, because she couldn’t go curl up in his bed and cuddle.

Janet. Think of Janet.

He bent down to kiss her and she almost swayed into another hot, wet kiss. It was only the knowledge that it would lead to other hot, wet things, all with the undoubtedly lovely Janet’s number sitting firmly in his pocket, that gave her the strength to pull away and walk.

She’d reaffirmed Samson would talk to Annabelle without tipping her hand, and gotten sex in the bargain. What more could she ask for?

Rhiannon closed her eyes and rested her head against the mirrored wall of the elevator, trying not to think about the delicious ache in her sex and inner thighs. Probably best to avoid answering that question.





Chapter Sixteen


SAMSON HAD never been much of a coffee drinker, but sleeping had come hard after his uncle’s death, and he’d learned to appreciate the glory of caffeine. He’d set up the fancy coffee maker’s timer in his loaner apartment the first night.

As was his new habit, he padded out of his bedroom, grabbed his full mug, and took his first sip in front of the giant windows overlooking the downtown skyline, the freeway traffic in the distance already bumper to bumper though it wasn’t quite six. He liked this view. Matchmaker had furnished him with a nice little spot, even if it was one he’d never have thought to choose on his own.