Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller

Nope.No way, no how. Archer cannot live here.

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Bates. He knew about this and didn’t say a word.

Archer releases his hold on my brother and steps toward me. “Len, it’s let me live here, or I’m homeless.”

“Homeless.” I scoff. “Arch, you’re worth millions.”

“But that didn’t stop me from forgetting to resign my lease after I pulled out of the contract on Valentina Drive,” he says, shrugging.

My eyes narrow. “And this all just so happened to coincide with Emory moving out. You expect me to believe that? You two planned this,” I accuse, my pointer finger going from Archer to Bates and back again.

Archer’s grin is downright sinful, and he doesn’t even bother denying it.

“Assholes,” I hiss under my breath as I spin around and stalk to my room where I slam the door shut.

Well,that could have gone better, but it also could have been a lot worse, so I’m not going to complain.

“She’ll get over it,” Bates says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Now let’s finish putting this shit together. I’ve got plans tonight that don’t involve your sweaty ass.”

I arch a brow. “And who are you bestowing the pleasure of your company on tonight?”

“Tami, I think. Or maybe it’s Taylor?” he says, scratching the side of his neck. “It starts with a T.”

“You don’t even know her name? Dude, you gotta slow down with the cleat chasers.”

He shrugs. “I got needs, man. What do you expect me to do?” He picks up the next piece we need for the bed, and we get back to work.

“You could get a steady girlfriend, you know,” I suggest.

His eyes lift to mine. “Look how well that worked out for you,” he says, referring to the disaster that was my relationship with Jess.

“Not all women are like her.”

“Most are,” he shoots back.

I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I could say right now to change his mind. Then, what he said the other night about a chick convincing him he was having a baby comes to mind. There’s more to that story, but now’s not the time to delve into it, so I let it go for now.

We shoot the shit for another half hour while we finish the bed, then Bates disappears into his room to get ready for his date. I flop on the mattress and stare at my new ceiling, my thoughts going to Lennon and the look on her face before she stormed out of here.

This better work, ’cause I’m out of ideas.

When I pry my eyes open again, it’s dark outside. I glance at my watch. I’ve slept the last two hours away. I roll off the bed and rummage around in my duffel. Grabbing a fresh change of clothes, I head for the shower.

This place is freaking awesome. The rooms themselves are huge, and there’s a bathroom in each. After turning on the faucet, I shuck my dirty jeans to the side, then I step under the spray. I press my forehead to the tiles and enjoy the sensation of the water pounding into my shoulders.

I could stay in here forever, but I’m starving, so I wash down then rinse off fairly quickly. Tugging on a pair of gray sweats, I forgo my shirt and head out of my room at the end of the hall. Lennon’s door is open as I pass, and I have to resist the urge to look inside.

Stepping into the main living area, I’m surprised to find her sprawled in her favorite armchair in the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen. I stop dead in my tracks, gaping at her. “Holy shit,” I breathe.

Her head spins my way, her eyes narrowing the instant they land on me. She wastes no time flicking her gaze back to the TV.

I clear my throat. “What you watchin’?” I ask, unable to stop myself from taking in every inch of her in a simple black tank, tiny bed shorts, and knee-high, black-and-white striped socks. Her hair is in a messy-bun thing on top of her head, and a pair of glasses I’ve never seen her wear before are perched on the tip of her nose.

She doesn’t answer my question, so I ask another as I move toward the kitchen. “Since when do you wear glasses?”

Still, she remains silent.

Great. She’s ignoring me.I tug the fridge open and scan the empty shelves. Okay, Uber Eats it is. Grabbing a beer, I look over my shoulder at Len. “You want a beer?”

Her head lifts, and she glances over to me. “Sure.”

I grab one for her, too, pop the tops, drop them in the trash, then join her in the lounge area. She takes hers from me without removing her eyes from the TV. I pull my phone out of my pocket then drop onto the couch on the end closest to her. “You hungry? I’m ordering in,” I say.

Lennon’s eyes flit to me, and she nods.

I arch a brow. “What are you in the mood for?”

To my absolute shock and delight, her eyes rake over my body in a way that tells me she’s in the mood for me. But just as quickly as the look appeared, it vanishes. “Whatever you’re having is fine,” she says, going back to watching her show.

My mouth curves up in a grin. So, what they say about sweatpants must be true . . .

I order a large pepperoni pizza then drop my cell on the coffee table and kick my feet up on the edge. “Is this how it’s going to be?” I ask her. “You pretending I don’t exist unless I’m feeding you or supplying you alcohol?”

Her eyes dart to mine for the barest of seconds, then she takes a long pull from her beer. Lowering her bottle slowly, she licks a drop of liquid off her lip, and I harden instantly.

“It’s not like that,” she says.

I smirk. “You sure about that? You won’t even look at me, Len.”

“That’s because you’re practically naked,” she snaps, glaring at me.

At least her eyes are on me. “I’m not even close to naked, but I could be. If that’s what you want . . .”

Her glare turns lethal. “Don’t you dare.”

I slide my free hand over my abs to the band of my sweats, her eyes following the movement. “Why not? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

She swallows as I drag the band down an inch. The heated look in her eyes stokes my ego and forces the rest of the blood in my body straight to my dick.

“Arch,” she breathes.

I love the husky way she says my name. I release the band and flatten my palm, gliding it over my aching cock. My eyes stay locked on her face; hers stay locked on my hand as I continue to slide my palm up and down my length. Being in this moment with her feels so fucking good.

She hasn’t told me to stop, so I keep going. Her chest rises and falls in rapid succession, drawing my gaze to her peaked nipples. Fuck I want to touch her. I’m dying to feel her again. But if I push too much, she’ll walk away. So, I content myself with this.

My cock throbs, and I increase my pace, stroking faster, harder. Len’s eyes darken, and she squeezes her legs together. A bolt of lust shoots through me as her teeth sink into her plump bottom lip. “Len,” I groan.

I’m going to come in my pants like a teenager, but I don’t fucking care. This feels too good—her eyes on me, her nipples hard, her thighs rubbing together as she watches me . . .

I grit my teeth as my balls draw tight. “Fuck, spitfire, I’m going to come,” I growl seconds before I do just that.

Her eyes are glazed with lust, and she shoots to her feet. She’s going to run.

“Len,” I start, but a knock sounds from the front door, and her eyes dart toward it. I glance at the wet spot on my sweats then back to her. “You mind getting that? It’ll be dinner. I can’t exactly answer it like this . . .” I say, gesturing to the outline of my still semi-hard dick.

She looks where I’m pointing, shakes her head, then crosses her arms over her chest and arches a brow. “It’d serve you right for pulling that little stunt.”

I stand, moving into her space. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” I murmur against her neck. “Now get the door. I’m hungry.” I slap her ass as I move past her, heading for my room to clean myself up and grab some fresh sweats. She grumbles something unintelligible under her breath behind my back, and a satisfied smile spreads across my face.

When I return to the living room, she’s back in her armchair. The pizza box sits open on the coffee table as do two fresh beers and some napkins. “Thanks,” I say, tipping my beer toward her then taking a swig.

She doesn’t respond. Okay, I guess we’re back to the silent treatment then.

Given what I just did, and the fact that she’s still sitting here with me, I’m going to count tonight as a win. Even if she isn’t speaking to me right now.

I grab a slice from the box then settle back on the couch, stretching my legs out and resting my heels on the coffee table. Lennon flicks through the movies in her iTunes library, coming to a stop on The Italian Job. She selects it then tosses the remote near my feet, grabs a slice, and takes a massive bite.

“Nice movie selection.”

She side-eyes me as she chews then swallows and says, “Can’t go wrong with Marky Mark.”

So, she’s not not talking to me. I can’t keep up. One minute she is; the next she isn’t.

Don’t take it personally, man. She’s sorting out shit in her head. Give her time.

We don’t talk again until the movie credits start rolling.

“Thanks for the pizza,” she says as she stands. “Goodnight, Arch.”

“Night, spitfire,” I murmur quietly as she walks away. I run a hand through my hair then get up to put the leftovers away and our empty beer bottles in the trash.

Walking down the hall, I pause outside her room. The sound of music playing softly inside filters through the door. Is she in there thinking about what I did earlier? Is she touching herself?

“Fuuuck,” I curse under my breath and force myself to continue down the hall to my room.

For the second time tonight, I take my dick in my hand and stroke it until I come with her name on my lips.