Breathe Out (Just Breathe, #2)(140)
“Miss?” a voice calls, startling me.
“Yes?” I answer calmly when I notice it’s a staff member.
“In here,” he directs, pointing to a door next to him.
My feet scurry across the floor, eager to find my outlet. “Thank you,” I say when I get closer.
He nods. “The view is best from this room,” he comments, opening the door for me.
The room is dark and empty except for a few candles burning off in the distance which seem to be at the opposite end of the room. The light emanating from them is not strong enough for me to see what’s in the room. As my mouth is about to open to question the man, my head jerks around when I feel something warm take my hand and gently guide me in.
“Enjoy, Miss,” the man says, closing the door behind me.
My eyes try to adjust, but it’s too dark. I don’t need the light to know who I’m with.
“I figured an escort would be better this time,” Joe comments.
“He didn’t,” I reply. “He only saw me right as I hit the hallway.”
“I knew you’d escape the party on your own,” Joe confesses.
“You know your girlfriend followed me,” I inform.
“When?” he asks calmly.
“Just when I left the ballroom,” I explain.
“What did she say?” he questions with strain in his voice.
I step into his body, taking him in as much as I can. “She said that she doesn’t like to share,” I begin. “And, I said too bad because I do and we’d all could have a lot of fun.”
“Emma?” Joe pleas, clearly not liking my joke.
“She gave me a warning to stay away,” I admit calmly.
“I hope she didn’t scare you,” he states nervously.
“No,” I reply, confident on how things stand between us.
“Good,” he says, cupping my face. I catch a flicker of light in his eye that is closest to the candles, but I can’t really see his expression. I lean in to kiss him, but his lips lift and catch my forehead.
Joe takes my hand and leads me to the table where the candles are with two wine glasses and a bottle of champagne. He offers me the first glass he pours and I gladly take it. Lifting it to my lips, I chug it in three gulps.
“Sorry,” I apologizes, wiping my lips from the excess moisture.
Joe doesn’t say anything, but he chugs his glass too. Then, he pours us each a fresh glass and leads me to a window. He sits down on the large wind sill with his back propped against the left side. He takes the glass from my hand, placing it next to his.
“What are the candles for?” I check.
“To help with the view,” he replies.
“What view?” I inquire.
“It’s the best from this window,” he comments, leading me closer.
I follow his gaze out the window and see a large, glowing orb in the distance. There’s a direct line from where we are that cuts through gaps of other buildings that allow us to see the New Year’s ball.
“And,” he begins. “I wanted it to be romantic.”
Our eyes meet and my hand lifts to his cheek. One of Joe’s hands lift to hold mine in place as he turns his face into it, kissing my palm. I lean in, needing to taste his lips on mine. Right as I’m about an inch away, Joe turns. My head snaps back and my eyes begin to water. Why is he giving me mixed signals?
A roaring sound comes up from under our feet while another one comes through the window. The cheering erupts more loudly as piercing horns cry into the night.
“Happy New Year, beautiful,” Joe wishes.
“Happy New Year, Joe,” I return, fighting back tears.
Joe holds my face as he slowly pushes his lips to mine. As if nothing else matters, Joe kisses me like there’s no tomorrow and only today, right now, sharing everything with his embrace — every emotion, every desire — all of them — all of him.
One Hundred Five
“You think you’re slick,” Joe states as soon as I answer the phone.
“What?” I ask, not understanding him. “And, Hello to you too.”
“Anna found the keys in my jacket this morning . . . with your note,” Joe mentions.
“What?!” I muse. “How did they get there?”
“So, that’s how you want to do this?” he checks.
“Do what?” I feign.
Laughing, Joe says, “Okay, beautiful. Have it your way.”
“I always do with you,” I tease.
Joe grunts into the phone at my blatant sexual comment. “I’ll spank you for that.”
“Promise?” I goad.
“Yes,” he confirms.
“I’ve got to go,” I announce. “Nathan’s waiting for me.”
“See you soon, beautiful,” he bids.
“I look forward to my punishment,” I share.
“As do I,” he returns playfully.
“I’m counting the minutes,” I say.
“Me too,” he replies.
My finger presses the end button before we give our official farewell, wanting to increase the level of pleasurable punishment that is to come later tonight.
It’s the second day after the New Year and my friends and I just finished moving all of our stuff into the hotel where we’ll be staying for the rest of our time in New York. Nathan and I got access to the room that has been allotted to him for the duration of the show all thanks to Mrs. Silkworth’s influence. Denise flew in this morning with all of Nathan’s garments for the show and the three of us are busy getting organized in the room while Nathan messes with the order that they will be appearing down the runway — I think this is the twentieth arrangement.