Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller

My head hurts,and my mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton wool as I roll to the edge of my bed and slap a hand around on my nightstand. I’m sure I had a bottle of water on there. Peeking one eye open, I squint until I spot my drink. I snatch it up, unscrew the lid, and down half of it.

Why did I drink so much wine last night?

Sighing heavily, I wriggle out of bed and shuffle to my en suite, a hand resting over my angry belly as I go. I swear the best thing about this apartment is the individual bathrooms. My head throbs just thinking about how impossible it would be to share one single bathroom between myself and my two roommates.

After I pee and wash my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I look like a train wreck. Black bags circle my eyes, my skin is dry and itchy, and my hair looks like a flock of seagulls had an orgy up in there.

Stripping off my clothes, I crank up the hot water in the shower then stand under the spray for a solid ten minutes before soaping my body down. Washing my wild hair takes another ten minutes.

When I eventually exit my room, it’s almost noon, and unsurprisingly, it looks like I’m home alone.

Kins has been spending all her spare time with Atticus, which is super freaking cute, and I really can’t blame her. The dude is H.O.T. Hot. And Lenny’s probably at some sporting brunch or something with one of her clients.

I make myself a cup of coffee and toast a bagel. I slather it with garlic butter and cream cheese then kick back on the couch and begin to surf Netflix. I’m flicking through the latest additions when my phone chimes with a text.

A smile curves my lips when I see Sebastian’s name on the screen. But my smile quickly falls when I begin to read the message.

SEBASTIAN: Umm, so I’ve been trying to think of a way to answer last night’s barrage of questions, but I’m pretty sure it would be inappropriate for me to do so. Also, I’m not sure what the size of my dick has to do with you writing an article about my book? But in saying that, I feel I need to answer at least some of them. So, yes, I am very good at sex, and yes, I am straight.

What the actual shit…?

My thumb scrolls through our chat, and my heart lodges in my throat when I see the questions he’s referring to.

I drunk-texted him.

A lot.

Sweet baby Jesus in the manger, why didn’t you save me from myself?

ME: You write some pretty intense sex scenes in your book. Did your own sex life inspire them? Like that one scene in the lighthouse? ’Cause holy shit, it’s hot.

ME: I can’t help but wonder what it’s like for a straight man to write about another man’s penis thrusting into a wet vagina. So, I’m thinking you must be describing your own penis when writing these scenes, right?

ME: There I go assuming again… are you even straight? If not, that brings up a whole lot of new questions.

ME: You must be hung if you’re using your own penis for inspiration.

ME: You’re taking a really long time to respond…

ME: I bet you’re really good at sex. I wish I was getting it as good as the heroine in your book.

ME: My roommate is getting good sex on the regular now, and I’m totally jealous. But don’t tell her I said that, because I’m also crazy happy for her.

ME: I need to find someone to have good sex with.

What the hell am I supposed to say to him now? Heat rushes to my face as I reread the thread over and over again.

Taking a deep breath, I do the only thing I can right now. I text him back with the truth.

ME: I am SO sorry, but I swear that wasn’t me texting you last night. That was copious amounts of wine.

I readEmory’s reply and smile.

It was pretty damn obvious she was drunk last night, which was why I didn’t reply at the time. But I can’t resist the opportunity to mess with her a little.

ME: Really? That’s what you’re going with?

EMORY: It’s the truth! I had no input into that particular line of questioning. It was all my good friend, Sauvignon Blanc. Swear on my favorite book.

I snort to myself, and my sister side-eyes me from the other side of the kitchen counter.

“What’s so funny?” Storm asks with a raised brow.

Grinning, I pass my phone over to her and let her see for herself. Her eyes light with amusement, and her lips curve in a massive smile.

“Oh my god, this is gold.” She chuckles.

Taking a swig of my coffee, I nod. “I know, right?”

Storm hands my phone back and grins. “So, who is Emory anyway?”

“A book blogger. She’s doing a write-up on Drown with Me. It was Calliope’s idea,” I explain.

My sister nods and goes back to making a huge stack of sandwiches for our lunches. “How’s it going? Apart from the obvious drunk-girl questions, that is.”

I shrug. “We only met on Thursday; it didn’t go so well. But we met up again yesterday morning, and it was better. I think she’s a little crazy—definitely borderline eccentric. But I kinda like that about her.”

A new kind of interest shines in my twin’s eyes, and I shut that shit down immediately. “No. Nope, don’t even go there, Storm.”

“What?” she asks as fake innocence blankets her features.

I narrow my gaze into a glare. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not going to happen.”

She widens her eyes at me. “I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

My lips raise in a smile; I can’t help it. “You’re mental, you know that?”

Storm bursts out laughing. “I just want you to be happy. What’s so wrong with that?”

“I am happy,” I tell her. “I don’t need a girlfriend to accomplish that.”

“I never said you did. But it wouldn’t hurt either. At the very least, it wouldn’t kill you to start dating again,” she says. “It’s been over six months since you and Jayla broke up. She told me she’s bringing a plus-one to the wedding…”

This little tidbit gives me pause. Jayla’s bringing someone to the wedding? “Who?” I ask.

Storm shrugs and pops a piece of cucumber in her mouth. She chews slowly—too slowly.

“Storm,” I grumble.

“Fine,” she huffs. “She’s bringing Jordan.”

My eyes widen. “As in that guy at her firm that used to follow her around like a total creeper? The one she used to complain about on the regular? That Jordan?”

Storm chuckles and nods. “The one and the same.”

“Okay, well, good for her,” I say.

“The wedding is only a month away, Seb. I need to get the numbers to the caterers this week, so if you’re going to bring someone, I kinda need to know sooner rather than later.”

I nod. “I know. I’ll think about it. Okay?”

Storm smiles. “Thank you. And who knows? Maybe seeing you with someone else might give Jayla the kick up the ass she needs to realize what a catch you are.”

“I honestly don’t give a shit what she thinks of me anymore,” I say. And I mean it. She made her choice, and I made mine. I have zero regrets.

“Baaaaaaaash,” Everly calls from the living room.

Storm grins and waves me off. “You better go see what she wants before she comes and gets you.”

An hour passes before I’m done helping Ever with her dollhouse, and we’ve had lunch, and I can finally text Emory back. I’m kicking back on my bed, ankles crossed, ready to see how far I can push her.

ME: Are you sure it wasn’t you who wants to know if I’m good in the sack? It seemed like something you’d ask.

Again, her reply is immediate.

EMORY: Okay, so, not going to lie, it is totally something I’d say. But not to an author I’m interviewing. Especially one who has already accused me of being unprofessional.

I grin, liking that she’s being so honest.

ME: So, you do want to know about my sexual prowess or you don’t?

EMORY: I’m pretty sure I already know.

ME: Oh, really? How’s that?

EMORY: You’re forgetting I’ve read Drown with Me. You can’t write sex that hot and umm—okay, I’m just going to say it—stimulating if you can’t deliver. Or maybe you can and I’m just hoping it’s the former.

The fact that she found the sex scenes in my book not only hot, but stimulating, is hot in itself. I reach down and rearrange my junk because, clearly, my dick likes this too.

ME: Is there a reason you’re hoping I’m as good in reality as I am on paper?

This time, her response takes longer to come through.

Did I go too far?Scratching my temple with my free hand, I slide my thumb over my cell screen, about to apologize for what I just said, when her reply comes through.

EMORY: Let’s just say I have an unfortunate weakness for assholes. And you, sir, fit the bill.

Well, fuck me five ways to Sunday. Her response has me grinning like a fool, and my dick is doing a happy dance in my pants.