Breathe In (Just Breathe, #1)(109)
“So what should we do tomorrow?” Jimmy asks. I know he’s eager to spend more time with Joe.
“You boys do what you want, I’ve scheduled spa time,” I mention.
As much as I want to explore more of this vibrant island, I need to get the kinks out of my body. Joe helped a little last night when he rubbed my shoulders and back, but the tension returned two-fold after almost getting caught by Jimmy.
“We’ll join you,” Allen insists.
“Sure, if you want. I just figured you two would want more guy time,” I explain.
Looking at Joe, Jimmy questions, “What do you think?”
“I’m good with whatever,” Joe replies. “Didn’t you want to check out more local art for the gallery?”
“When are you going to the spa,” Allen queries.
“The majority of the morning.”
“Who are you getting all sexed up for?” Jimmy teases.
“Me,” I say with half truth.
“We can easily do both,” Allen suggests.
“Then, that settles it,” Jimmy states. “We’ll join Emma for a spa morning and then enjoy the rest of the day with other local visual delicacies.”
After agreeing on our plans, I shift the conversation and start asking Jimmy and Allen how they got into the art scene and owning their own gallery. Apparently, Jimmy has been fascinated by art since a young age and was always drawing or painting. Every trip he and his family took, Jimmy would seek out the local museums and galleries. Recently, due to Allen’s influence, Jimmy has been experimenting with clay sculptures. He shows me a variety of pictures on his phone of some of his original work. They’re pretty impressive despite the fact that I know nothing about art.
Jimmy and Allen met in college during Jimmy’s sophomore year and Allen’s junior year. They were both art majors, but Allen included a minor in the theatrical arts. Interestingly, they attend Dartmouth just like Joe and Henry. Apparently Jimmy started off at Brown, but didn’t like the curriculum.
I ask Jimmy if he’s had a chance to visit any of the museums or galleries in the Los Angeles area. Coming to California with Joe after Easter was Jimmy’s first time in LA, so I recommend a few key locations for him to visit next time he comes back. Joe mentions our recent trip to the Norton Simon and his desire to visit the Getty and the Griffith Observatory.
Finishing dinner, Jimmy and Allen choose to take another stroll throughout the hotel to look at the impressive art collection for a second time. Joe and I head back to the suite.
As we make our way back through the hotel, Joe keeps his hands to himself the whole time. He’s a perfect gentleman. While walking, I vow to adhere to my earlier decision to take Sadie out for a run on the beach. I want to avoid being alone with Joe.
After getting changed, I tie my hair up and grab Sadie’s ball. Just as I’m about to leave my room, Joe knocks on the door. He’s changed too, and not into pajamas. Looks like he’s planning on joining us on the beach. Damn it. There goes my plan of reprieve from his sexiness.
I am rather impressed at how well we run together. It feels like we complement each other each time we do. Sometimes I will push a little for a faster pace and sometimes he does. Neither one of us seem unable to keep up. I’ve never been able to run with Jared, Nathan or Maggie like this. Usually, my friends drop off after the second mile.
Back from our four-mile jog, I take a shower before grabbing a book and heading out to the fire pit with Sadie. To avoid temptation for when Joe comes out, because I know he’ll be outside soon, I purposefully put on a pair of workout capris over my boy-shorts underwear. I don’t bother with a bra, but I do grab a cardigan for additional coverage.
About ten or fifteen minutes later, like clockwork, Joe is sitting down on the same couch as me. Two seconds later, Jimmy and Allen come out as well. The three of them start chit-chatting as I read. My attention gets drawn to Joe who is suddenly massaging my left foot. I don’t look up, but I’m not able to read any longer because of his touch.
“What are you reading?” Allen explores.
“Some romance novel,” I whine.
“If you don’t like it, then why are you reading it?” Jimmy questions.
“Maggie joined a book club at the beginning of the year and signed me up for it too,” I explain. “Now, I’m stuck reading stupid, erotic, romance novels each month.”
Joe chuckles under his breath.
“What’s wrong with romance novels?” Jimmy contends as if he’s slightly offended by my statement.
“The books that the group keeps picking are about a bunch of stupid virgins who end up having sex with brooding billionaires, who are dominant men in business and in sex,” I say with mild agitation. “There’s not much story and the only decent parts are the sex scenes, even though they’re far fetched in how a man can please a woman. The naivety of the women is nauseating. Plus, the depictions of BDSM are weak. Not everyone who is into BDSM has a dark past.”
“Wow! Either you’re a virgin or you just really need to get laid,” Allen announces.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I am not a virgin,” I clarify.
“Someone needs to get laid then. All that angst, she must be really horny,” Jimmy comments with a smile.
I don’t say anything, but mentally I do agree with him. I am horny. I’m always horny. So horny that I’m masturbating practically two times a day, every day, except during the few days of my period.