Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller

“Are you sure I look okay?”I ask Lennon and Emory once again.

Len sighs. “For the hundredth time. You. Look. Hot.”

“You really do, babe,” Emory says. “Those jeans do wonders for your perky butt.”

“Mm-hmm,” Len hums. “He’s going to be all over you like white on rice.”

I snort, and a small kernel of confidence blooms in my chest. I spent the better part of the afternoon figuring out what to wear tonight and tried on no less than half a dozen outfits for the girls. If one of them were wearing this, I’d be the one telling them how great they looked.

Rubbing my sweaty palms on my thighs, I glance over at the clock in the kitchen; it’s almost six. “Wish me luck,” I say, heading for the door.

“With an ass like that, you don’t need luck,” Lennon calls behind me.

A smile erupts on my face while butterflies flutter in my stomach in anticipation of what the night will hold. With trembling hands, I call the elevator, but for the first time ever, I press the up button.

As the lift makes its climb, my mind fixates on all my faults and shortcomings. What will happen when Atticus realizes I’m really not at all interesting? That I’m mediocre at best? How long will it take him to notice my nose is too rounded at the tip? Mother’s been trying to get me to have a nose job since I was sixteen. Maybe I should have done it.

Oh, Lord, what will he think when I finally admit to him that I’m a twenty-four-year-old virgin? He’s going to think I’m pathetic and wonder what he ever saw in me. I just know it.

By the time the shiny metal door slides open on the tenth floor, I’ve worked myself into such a state it’s probably better if I text him and cancel.

Sliding out my phone, I pull up our message thread, and my thumbs hover over the screen, ready to type out an excuse.

But I can’t do it.

I want to see him.

I want to see myself the way I know he sees me.

Atticus is not a foolish man. He knows his own mind and wouldn’t have pursued me so hard if he didn’t see something in me that made him want to make a go of this.

With willpower I never knew I had, I slam an anvil down atop all my negative thoughts, draw my shoulders back, lift my chin, then stride over to his door and knock three times.

Moments later, the door is thrown open, and a wave of relief washes over me the second his eyes land on mine.

I smile shyly as heat crawls up my neck from his scorching gaze.

He reaches for me, entwines our fingers, and tugs me inside and down a short hallway into a large open kitchen, dining, and living area. He wastes no time backing me against the bench and dipping his head to my exposed shoulder. He trails his lips over my heated skin.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he murmurs as he tracks wet kisses up the curve of my throat to the edge of my mouth. My knees wobble, and he curls his hands around my waist to steady me then steals my breath in a soul-searing kiss.

Passion and desire radiate between our bodies as Atticus moves his hand up to cup my jaw, holding me in place as he explores every inch of my mouth with his tongue. A lusty moan rips from my throat, and his answering growl sends chills skittering over my skin.

My hands snake around his lower back, sliding under his untucked button-down shirt to feel his hot skin against my palms. His desire for me gives me the confidence to take what I want, what I need. And I do want Atticus. More than I’ve ever wanted another man.

He groans again and rocks his hips into me. I suck in a deep breath at the feel of his erection against my belly. Pulling back, I blurt, “I’m a virgin!”

Oh, good Lord. What did I just do?

My jaw hangs open, and I flounder for what to say to explain myself. “I—holy shitballs. I-can’t-believe-I-just-said-that.”

I flush from head to toe. If I could catch fire from embarrassment, I would be a raging inferno. At least this night couldn’t possibly get any worse …

Atticus stares at me for a whole minute, saying nothing. His gaze searches mine then flits over my body as I wring my hands together between us. He still hasn’t stepped back. He’s right in my personal bubble as he scrutinizes me.

Then, a smile that can only be described as completely wicked stretches across his handsome face, and his normally gray eyes turn molten silver. “Oh, how you tempt me, Kinsley. I didn’t think you could be any more perfect, and then you utter those words.”

My mouth slams shut.

He’s not running away or looking at me like I’m a pathetic loser.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks in a deep rumble.

Swallowing hard, I shake my head slowly as my heart skitters.

Carefully, Atticus takes one of my hands and places it over his extremely impressive hard-on. I bite on my lower lip as he murmurs, “Does this clear that up for you?”

I give him a small nod. My mind is going into overdrive. I’m feeling too much, both physically and emotionally, to make my vocal cords cooperate.

A startled yelp has our heads swinging to the kitchen entry to find Atticus’s son, Arlo, standing there with a hand over his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Atticus asks through clenched teeth.

Arlo scissors his fingers and peeks one eye open, checking if the coast is clear before dropping his hand. “I forgot my wallet. I didn’t think you’d have moved to the fun part of the evening yet,” he says, smirking at his father. “We got any bleach around here? I’m going to need it to burn the image of you getting a handy in the kitchen from my retinas.”

For the second time tonight, I wish dying of embarrassment was a thing.

“I was not getting a handy,” Atticus says, “and this is no worse than what I’ve walked in on you doing.”

I slink farther into the kitchen, using Atticus’s large frame to hide behind. I just had to go ahead and tempt fate by thinking things couldn’t get worse, didn’t I? I wish both men weren’t standing in the path to the front door, or I’d have sprinted out of here already.

“So, are you going to introduce me? Or are you going to regale your girlfriend with my masturbation story so we’re all on equally embarrassing ground?” Arlo asks.

For the love of God …

And that’s the very moment my brain decides to scream—Atticus caught his son—this boy asking for an introduction—masturbating to Miss Sadie … to me.

Why hasn’t the ground opened up to swallow me whole yet? Why?

Atticus clears his throat and, without turning to face me, slides a hand around his back, offering it to me. I clutch onto it like it’s the last life raft on the Titanic.

Slowly, he steps aside, revealing me, and says in a deep, calm tone, “Arlo, this is Kinsley. Kinsley, this is my son, Arlo.”

His son looks exactly like him, from the color of his eyes to the cut of his jaw. Swallowing down my apprehension, I take Arlo’s extended hand and shake it. “Hi,” I mumble.

He smiles brightly and gives my hand a small squeeze before letting go. “Hey, Kinsley, it’s nice to meet you, even if it is under disturbing circumstances.”

I cringe, and if I wasn’t already beet red, I’d flush from head to toe.

“How about this?” Arlo goes on. “I figure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other from here on out, so I propose a do-over, and we’ll never speak of this emotionally scarring night again.”

“Deal,” I blurt, eager to take him up on his offer. “I like that plan. A lot.”

His smile grows. “Me too. Next time we meet will be our official first meeting. Agreed?”

I nod a good half dozen times. “Excellent.”

Once he retrieves his wallet, he says a quick goodbye and vanishes down the hall.

Atticus leans his ass against the cupboard beside me, staring down at me, and I find our height difference in this moment unsettling. Bracing my palms on the benchtop, I hoist myself up so that I’m sitting on it and we’re closer to eye level.

Breaking the silence that has fallen over us since Arlo went in search of his misplaced wallet, I say, “Well, that was mortifying.”

“Are you okay?”I ask, because that was an epic disaster.

Kinsley takes a moment to answer, seemingly thinking it over. Then she smiles, lifts a shoulder, and shocks the shit out of me by replying, “It could have been worse.”

I blink at her, astonished by her response. “How?” I ask. “That was not part of how I envisioned this night going. Or how I hoped you’d eventually meet my son.”

“Obviously.” She chuckles. “Because that was a terrible introduction. But he could hate me, and I don’t think he does. I was extremely relieved when he suggested that we have a do-over.”

“A do-over is a good idea. Hopefully, it will go better than this first meeting did,” I murmur.

She nudges me with her shoulder and smiles. “How about that wine I was promised? I could do with a glass or two right about now.”

“Good idea. Let’s get this night back on track,” I agree, striding to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of red that will go perfectly with the lasagna that’s in the oven. I pour us both a glass then prepare the salad.

Kinsley sits on the bench as I work, her eyes remaining on me the whole time. I smirk over at her. “Like what you see?”

Her gaze drops to inspect her shoes as she says, “I’ve never had a man cook for me before.”

Which makes my mind jump back to her earlier confession. “What else has a man never done for you?” I ask, watching her from the corner of my eye as I thinly slice a red pepper. The ever-present pink tinge to her cheeks is fucking adorable. And the way her breath catches at my question makes my heart squeeze in my chest. “You don’t have to answer that,” I tell her.

She shakes her head, takes an impressive swig of her wine, then brings her eyes back to mine. “I already dropped the virgin bomb on you. It would honestly be easier to tell you the things a man has done for me than what he hasn’t.”

I stop slicing, turn, and raise a quizzical brow. “Okay, forgive me for my bluntness, but when you say you’re a virgin, are we talking in every sense, or just in a penetrative sense? Because oral sex is still sex, if you know what I mean?”

Raising her glass, she downs the rest of the contents then clears her throat. “Nobody has touched me …” She pauses, swallows hard, then whispers as her cheeks darken, “Down there.”

Holy fuck.

The knife I held clatters to the chopping board, and I rake my hand through my hair. The possessive beast inside of me roars to life, and I move to her, forcing her thighs apart as I step between them, then cup her jaw in my palm, tilting it up, compelling her to look at me. Tremors wrack her body as she tries to look away.

“Hey,” I cajole. “Look at me, Kinsley.”

She’s biting her cheek, and I stroke her jaw with the pads of my thumbs.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not shocked, because I’m honestly floored. I don’t even know how it’s possible for someone as incredibly beautiful and ridiculously talented as you to be single, let alone untouched.”

Her bottom lip quivers as I speak, but I continue. “But I’m fucking glad for it.”

“What?” she gasps, surprise shining bright in her eyes.

My lips curve into a predatory smile. “Do you know what it does to me knowing I’m going to be the first and only man to touch, possess, own that part of you? Because I will, Kinsley—that’s a promise.”