Dirty (Unexpected Lovers #3) - J.B. Heller Page 0,38

jacket off the bed. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later,” I call on my way out the door.

“Be safe and use protection!” he calls after me, laughing at his own joke.

It’s quarter past six when I walk into the restaurant. It’s pretty busy in here tonight. Hopefully, we’ll just blend in with the crowd, and nobody will recognize Arch.

I spot him. He’s at the bar, drinking a beer like he said he would be. Only, he’s not alone. A perky blonde is plastered to his side. Her boobs are practically hugging his bicep. My jaw locks, and the urge to rip her tacky extension out consumes me.

Chill, Len. Chill . . .

I take a deep breath, flex my fingers a few times, then approach them.

“I’ve been following your career since the beginning,” she purrs. “You’re the best pitcher in the league in my opinion.”

Okay, so she’s not just hitting on him because he’s hot as fuck. So much for the anonymity of being in a crowd.

She leans even closer, whispering something in his ear, and my fists clench on reflex.

I glower as I step behind her, tapping on her shoulder. She turns her head, eyeing me over her shoulder, then dismisses me with a, “Get in line, honey.”

Archer shifts on his stool, looking around her. His gaze darkens the moment it lands on me. “The line begins and ends with her,” he tells the blonde, sliding off his stool and tugging me into his big, hard body. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs, lowering his head and brushing his lips over mine, once, twice, then three times.

I sigh, and he takes the opportunity to glide his tongue into my mouth, coaxing another contented sigh from me as he deepens the kiss. My arms curl around his hips, gripping the back of his shirt, and I push onto my tiptoes, following his lips when he goes to pull away.

He chuckles, kissing me again.

The next time he pulls away, I let him.

We stare at each other, smiling like fools. I’m sure we look like one of those couples that I usually gag at the sight of, and I don’t even care.

“Hungry?” he asks.

I nod. “Starving.”

He slides his big hand to mine, entwining our fingers, and tugs me through the crowd to the hostess station. “Reservation for Austin,” he says, and we’re led to a table in the back.

Arch pulls my chair out for me, and I drop into it, fighting a laugh when he sits across from me.

“What?” he asks.

“Quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” I tease.

He shrugs. “I know how to treat a woman.”

A waitress appears, and we place our orders then go back to staring at each other.

“This is weird, right?” I say. Surely, he feels it, too.

He nods, humor crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. “So weird.”

“Why are we being weird? We’ve eaten together a thousand times. The only difference is now we do”—I clear my throat—“other stuff, too.”

Arch throws his head back, laughing. “Other stuff? Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“Well, what would you call it?” I ask, widening my eyes at him.

He grins, shaking his head. “Other stuff works. It’s not like we’re fucking.”

“No,” I agree. “Umm, why is that, by the way?”

“Why is what?” he asks, picking up his beer and taking a swig.

My cheeks heat. Oh, my freaking God, I’m blushing. I do not blush. Ever. What the hell is wrong with me? I clear my throat. “Wow, this is awkward.”

Archer smirks, tipping his head to the side as he rakes his gaze over me, then goddamn it, he bites his bottom lip.

“Why-haven’t-we-had-sex?” I blurt out in a rush.

“Oh,” he says, “that.”

If we weren’t in a public place right now, I’d punch him. “Yes, that,” I whisper-hiss.

His lips curve in a devilish smile, and he shrugs. “The timing hasn’t been right.”

I stare at him. What the hell does that mean?

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and taking my hand from around my water glass to link our fingers. “Babe, I’m not sinking inside of you for the first time in nearly two years with your brother down the hall.”

“Oh,” is all I can muster. I can’t argue with his logic. But we all live in the same apartment, sooo . . . what are we supposed to do?

“Stop frowning so hard, Lenny,” he says, giving my fingers a squeeze. “It’ll happen. And when it does, it’ll be . . .”—he closes his eyes and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip—"fucking magical.”

Well, okay then.