The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(96)

He didn’t hesitate. His fingers flew over the screen. It’s okay. Yes, of course. See you then.





Chapter Thirty


WHAT WOULD he say to her? What could he say?

There were about a million things that ran around his brain for the next six hours, even as he drove slowly through the packed evening LAX traffic.

He saw her sweatshirt first. It was a soft lavender, the same one she’d worn when she’d walked into a bar in central California months ago. If she hadn’t been wearing that, he might have missed her. She stood on the curb with big sunglasses on, her hoodie pulled over her hair.

He didn’t blame her for the impromptu disguise. He assumed, after Helena’s show, those people who hadn’t known the owner of Crush now would.

Samson maneuvered his car through the traffic and pulled up to the curb. Before he could get out and open the door for her, she opened it herself. “Hey,” she said, her voice hoarse, and tossed her bag in the back seat.

“Hey.”

She avoided his gaze as she slid in. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“No problem.” His fingers twitched on the steering wheel. He didn’t want to spook her by grabbing her close and hugging her. But he also . . . really wanted to touch her.

Once she was buckled in, he settled for resting his hand over hers and squeezing it. “Am I taking you to your place?” He hadn’t been to either of her homes yet. He knew the one she shared with Katrina was farther away, but he’d happily drive her there, let her out, and return. Whatever she wanted.

He was so gone.

She twisted her hand over so they were palm to palm. “Can we go to yours?”

“Yeah.” He left his hand where it was, even if it made maneuvering through traffic one-handed a little difficult. Sorry, other drivers. My girl’s got her hand in mine.

He glanced at her a couple of times, but she was silent, head against the window, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling like she was asleep.

It was so late the roads were relatively traffic free, and they pulled up in front of his condo in no time, which was both good and bad. Good because he wanted to get her in his home so they could talk. Bad because he didn’t want to let go of her.

She stirred when he did release her and she lifted her head. He usually self-parked, but he tossed his keys to the valet this time and grabbed Rhi’s bag before she could.

She kept her head bowed as they walked inside, and he used his larger body to block her from view of anyone in the lobby. Rhi kept inching closer to him in the elevator, until he finally pulled her to his side. She belonged there anyway.

She must have thought so, too, because she melted against him. He didn’t let go of her even when they walked to his door and awkwardly shuffled inside. “I can order Thai for you,” he said. “It’s supposedly the best place in L.A., according to about three thousand reviews on—” He dropped her bag, and grabbed her, because what else was a man supposed to do when a woman he liked this much leaped on him?

She pressed her lips against his, and Samson’s grip tightened on her ass. Her long legs twined around his hips and he turned them around and stumbled farther into the living room. He fell on the couch with her straddling him.

He ran his hand up her sides and yanked on the zipper of her sweatshirt. It was hard to get her undressed without separating their mouths much, but he managed to get her sweatshirt and top and bra off.

Finally, he paused. “Wait,” he panted.

Her fingers were busy on the buttons of his shirt. “I don’t want to wait.”

“No.”

Her fingers immediately halted, and she peered down at him. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk first.”

“About what?”

It was so hard to think when her breasts were in his line of vision. They were so full and lovely, the nipples perked up, waiting for his hands and mouth. “Uh.”

She grabbed his ears and pulled him close. “Samson. I need this.”

Well, fuck. What was he supposed to say to that?

He wrapped his arms around her waist and came to his feet. He carried her into his darkened bedroom, their lips fused together until he laid her on his bed. His blinds were open, and the city lights painted silver and gold across her body. He stripped off all his clothes and her jeans, then started at her breasts and kissed down her body, licking and sucking her flesh.

He wanted to consume her, but that was a bad idea. If he consumed her, there would be nothing left, and he wanted all of her. For a long, long time, no expiration date.

That was scary, the thought of indefinitely being with someone. But also . . . kind of lovely.

He pressed her thighs wide and licked her until she cried out. She tasted so good, her legs straining on either side of his head. He knew she enjoyed it, but he also didn’t want to torture her.

He rose up on his knees and slipped his fingers inside her. “Fuck me,” she breathed, and he nearly did exactly that before he remembered.

“No condoms,” he said, regretfully, and withdrew his hand.

Her eyes flew open. “You don’t have any here?”

“I’m moving soon and I don’t see the point in stocking condoms if there’s no one I want to have sex with. I bought that box for you.”

Her lips wavered into a smile. “That’s kind of sweet.”