Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller

Heat poolslow in my belly as my body bows toward his, desperate for his touch.

Nobody has ever made me feel the way he does. The frenzied look in his silver-laced gaze makes me squirm with need. I know what he said is true; he will be the only man to touch that part of me. And when he does … It. Will. Be. Glorious.

“I’m trying really hard to behave and take this at a speed you’re comfortable with, but you’re not making it easy on me.” Atticus groans right before he presses his lips to mine.

His tongue slides in, a tantalizing dance with my own, as his hands glide down my sides to land on my hips, and he tugs me forward until my core is lined up with his hard length. I moan at the contact and arch my back, pushing my breasts into his chiseled chest.

“Fuck dinner,” he murmurs, his hands sliding under my ass, lifting me. He carries me to a couch, laying me on the cushions and bringing his delicious weight down on top of me.

His pelvis grinds against me, and pleasure coils deep within me. “Atticus,” I whimper as he thrusts against me, hitting just the right spot. His mouth never leaves mine for longer than a second.

“Yes, baby. Tell me what you need,” he demands, pushing himself up on his elbows to stare down at me.

I can only imagine what I look like right now. A hot mess. But the lust, adoration, and desire in his gaze makes me feel beautiful and in control. If I asked him to stop, he would.

My chest rises and falls rapidly as I find my voice. “Touch me,” I beg. “Make me feel good.”

Relief washes over his features, as if he was expecting me to put the brakes on. Then he smiles so devilish and determined it makes my toes curl in anticipation. “Can I open your jeans?” he asks, tracing his knuckles over the button and zipper of my pants.

I nod, then my teeth sink into my bottom lip as he does just that.

His nimble fingers make quick work of lowering my fly, then his hands move to my hips. “Lift for me,” he instructs, and I obey immediately. He tugs my pants and panties down my legs then settles between my thighs. His gaze holds mine as he dips his head to run the tip of his tongue between my folds.

“Holy shitballs,” I squeak as exquisite pleasure sweeps through me. He does it again and again, lapping at my core.

I can’t stay still. My body jolts and quivers as tension builds inside me. Then, he sucks my clit into his warm mouth and slips a finger inside me, making my back lift off the couch and my hands dig into his thick, dark hair. I come hard and fast.

I’m panting for air when Atticus finally sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied smirk on his gorgeous face. My eyes drift down his body to the outline of his hard dick pressed against his pants, and I swallow; that thing is a monster. It’s never going to fit inside of me.

“Eyes up here,” he says, his tone sharp and demanding. My gaze darts to his, and he raises a brow. “Don’t worry, my secret seductress. I’ll warm you up good and proper before we even think about having sex, okay?”

I sag with relief at his promise. “Okay,” I murmur, smiling up at him. “Do you want me to do something about that for you?” I ask, pointing at his straining erection.

Heat swirls in his eyes, and it gives me the boost of confidence I seriously need. I tug my pants back up, but don’t bother refastening them, and focus on popping the button then lowering the fly of Atticus’s jeans.

His cock springs free, not confined by underwear beneath his pants, and I reach out a shaking hand to wrap my fingers around his girth. His body goes rigid at my tentative touch, and my eyes go to his. I have no idea what I’m doing here. Sure, I’ve watched enough porn to understand the mechanics, but this is the first time I’ve ever touched a penis properly.

At my hesitation, he trails the back of his knuckles over my cheek and says, “You don’t have to do this, Kinsley. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for, my sweet girl.”

I shake my head. I’m so very ready for this. “I want to,” I tell him. “I’m just not sure how to make it good for you.”

His jaw tenses at my admission, then he closes his eyes. “Then let me show you,” he rumbles, wrapping his hand over mine in a firm grip. He begins stroking up and down his long, thick shaft.

My thighs clench together at the erotic sight of his much larger hand directing mine, showing me how to bring him pleasure. My own need ignites again. I never imagined deriving so much pleasure from giving it.

Feeling bold, I shimmy closer, drop my head, and lick the crown of his cock. He stills our hands at his base then squeezes as I do it again, keeping my eyes on his.

“Fuck, sweet girl, the way you’re looking at me right now … just … fuck,” he groans, and his hips thrust up, encouraging me to keep going.

I lower my head farther, this time wrapping my lips around the tip and sucking gently. Atticus’s eyes blaze then roll back inside his head as he moves our joined hands in a sensuous glide up and down his length while I continue to suck.

“That hot little mouth of yours feels so goddamn good. Too good,” he says between clenched teeth. “If you don’t want to swallow, you need to stop right now, ’cause I’m close, sweet girl. So fucking close.”

I’ve never felt more powerful in all my life. I double my efforts, sucking harder until Atticus tips his head back and groans in pleasure as he spills inside my mouth.

He collapses, dragging me with him so I’m lying on his firm chest, and he strokes a hand through my messy hair. “Fuckin’ A, Kinsley. That was incredible.”

My smile is so damn wide it hurts my cheeks.

It takes us a good twenty minutes to be bothered pulling ourselves back together, then we return to the kitchen.

“Another wine?” Atticus asks, gesturing to my empty glass.

“Please and thank you,” I reply, still smiling like a madwoman. I am so unbelievably happy right now, and it’s all because of this tall, dark, and brooding man before me.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of good conversation, scrumptious food, and delicious wine.

I’m sated in every way possible when I finally return home late that night, where I drop onto my bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Emory,Lennon, and I are in our favorite comfy sweats and hoodies, watching Lucifer, when there’s a knock at the front door.

“You expecting anyone?” I ask the girls.

Both shake their heads, then Lennon gets up to answer it. She swings the door open then turns back to look at me. “It’s for you,” she says, a very unlike-Lennon smile on her face.

I quirk a brow at her weird expression. Then, she steps back, allowing whoever is on the other side to enter. Warmth radiates through my entire body as Atticus strides in, a panty-melting grin on his face and a beautiful bunch of flowers in his hand. I jump off my seat and rush to him.

His grin widens, and he opens his arms to me, wrapping them around my waist as I crash into him. He nuzzles his face into the curve of my neck. “Hey, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

Tipping my head back to look up into his face, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Another day, another apology, another bouquet of flowers,” he says, shrugging.

I chuckle. “What do you need to apologize for?”

He quirks a brow. “The unfortunate appearance of my son last night.”

“Oh, that.” I flush. “Yeah, that was … awkward.”

“What was awkward?” Emory asks from behind me.

I shift, tucking myself into Atticus’s side, and face the girls. My cheeks are on fire. “I met Atticus’s son, Arlo, last night.”

Lennon’s eyes bug out of her head. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to be there?”

Atticus clears his throat, glances down at me, then back to the girls. “I think this story is best told with alcohol.”

“Already sorted,” Lennon says, lifting the half-empty bottle of wine from the floor beside the armchair she’s lounging in.

“Okay, where are the glasses? I’m going to need some of that,” he says, grimacing.

“Go sit down. I’ll get you one,” I tell him, giving him a light shove in the direction of the couch. I fetch a glass and another bottle of wine from the fridge then wander into the lounge area. Dropping down beside him, I snuggle into his side.

After last night, all the nervous energy that would normally assault me the second I was confronted with someone as attractive as Atticus is gone. I don’t know how it happened, but I feel free to be myself with him, and it’s liberating.

“This is super weird,” Lennon points out, her finger wiggling between Atticus and me cuddled up together.

I grin. I can’t help it. Because I totally get where she’s coming from. I have never been so comfortable with a guy before, and these girls have known me since we were in high school. Atticus’s arm tightens around my shoulders; I tip my head back, glancing at him, and he looks down at me, returning my smile.

“It’s not weird. It’s beautiful,” Emory defends.

I snort at the most romantic woman in the world. “It is weird, Em. Admit it.”

She rolls her eyes, nudges her glasses up her nose, and sighs. “Okay, it’s a little weird, but it’s beautiful too. You’re practically glowing with happiness, Kins. Now I wanna get me some of that.”

Atticus’s brows jump to his hairline. “Ah, thanks, but I’m a one-woman kinda guy.”

Emory bursts out laughing. “Oh, God, that’s not what I meant. What I was trying to say is I want to find a man who makes me as happy as you make Kins. You’re hot and all, and yeah, I’m not gonna lie, you were a favorite in my flick files, but any interest I had vanished the moment you and my girl started talking.”

“Your what files?” Atticus asks, a perplexed expression on his face.

“Her flick files,” Lennon says matter-of-factly.

He frowns. “What is that?”

I shoot the girls a scalding glare then pat Atticus’s arm. “I’ll tell you later.”

Em and Len chuckle but let it go, and Atticus and I tell them about our Arlo encounter.

Thank the Lord for small mercies.

* * *

The followingweek passes with more coffee dates, lots of heated looks when we have to share the elevator with other people, and toe-curling kisses when we don’t.

It’s Friday night, and we’re doing dinner at Atticus’s place again. I sit at the kitchen counter and watch as he comfortably moves around his kitchen, preparing something that smells incredible.

When his back is to me, I can’t keep my eyes off his phenomenal ass. His chuckle has my gaze darting up to find him grinning at me over his shoulder. “What?” I say, pretending like he didn’t just catch me checking him out.

He shakes his head and goes back to stirring something in a pot on the stove.

“What are you making?” I ask. “It smells great.”

“Chicken pesto gnocchi,” he says. “I used to cook all the time when Arlo was little, but then I got too busy with the firm, and something had to give. Our housekeeper, Petra, does most of the cooking for us these days.”

“You know I could cook for you; you don’t have to do it if you don’t like it,” I offer.

Placing the stirring spoon aside, he adjusts the heat on the burner then faces me, leaning against the counter beside the stove. “I actually like it, and I’d do it more if I had the time. But it’s after six by the time I get home most nights, and it’s handy having something already prepared for Arlo and me.” He shrugs and smiles at me. “I like being able to do this for you.”

“I like it too,” I admit.

I set out the cutlery and bowls on the table as Atticus puts the finishing touches on the meal. When he’s done, he places a white serving dish and ladle on the table then pours us both a glass of white wine.

We eat in companionable silence for a while until he asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

My shoulders curl in on themselves at the reminder of brunch with my mother and sister.