Breathe Out (Just Breathe, #2)(24)

Joe pulls me into him. “If you stay,” he announces.

“I’m not staying,” I rebut. “But, we could still have more.”

“Perhaps . . . if you’re good,” he muses.

“I’m always good,” I quip.

Joe seizes my mouth with his. “Sometimes.”

“Always,” I argue. “You’re the one who doesn’t behave.”

Joe shakes his head in protest, locking his mouth to mine again.

I accept his concession, even though it really isn’t one.


Joe and I make our way down the hall and into the kitchen with Sadie on our heels. While Joe spoons out some ice cream, I take a nervous detour into his living room, still not used to hanging out with a guy after sex. How can it be relaxed and awkward at the same time?

“Ready?” Joe asks, sliding his body behind me.

“For what?” I play.

Joe’s free hand slips over my hips and across my belly and a guttural chuckle escapes his throat and into my ear.

“What’s that?” I question, pointing at something near the piano.

“What?” Joe responds, not wanting to look with his lips stuck to my neck.

“That,” I inform.

Laughing, Joe comments, “A guitar.”

“I know it’s a guitar,” I reply.

“Then, why did you ask?”

“Is it yours?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You didn’t tell me you play the guitar too,” I accuse.

“You never asked,” Joe returns, squeezing me tighter around the waist.

“Huh,” I breathe out.

“What?” he checks.

“Nothing.” I turn and give him a wicked smile.

“What?”

“Nothing . . .” I remark, seizing his lips. “It just explains your finger dexterity.”

Keeping his mouth locked to mine, Joe chuckles at my statement. “Really?”

“Yes,” I seductively answer. “How often do you practice?” I slide out from his grip and move toward the couch.

“I would hope you would know the answer to that,” Joe says in the sexy voice, following me.

“No complaints,” I offer with a smile.

“Good to know,” he replies, gliding his fingers over my sex.

Fluid drips from my mounds, ready and eager for more of him. “Looks like you made your mind up about having more later,” I lightly pant.

“Maybe,” he teases, pulling his fingers away and taking the first bite of ice cream.

My eyes narrow at the removal of his hand from my sex and his attention turning to the ice cream instead. Joe tries to stifle a laugh at my response. He takes another mouthful of ice cream and I lean my head toward him, opening my mouth, hoping he will offer the spoon. He reaches forward with a large scoop, but playfully snatches it away just as the tip of my tongue touches the bottom of the utensil. By Joe’s third attempt to tease me, I get a hold of the spoon with my mouth and keep my jaw clenched around it. Snatching the bowl from him, I run around the couch and into the hall. My bare feet slap against the solid, marble floor as I scurry down the hallway to his bedroom with Sadie close behind. When Joe rounds the corner, I see a devious grin on his face as he nonchalantly walks toward me. I’m able to get two large mouthfuls of the dessert before Joe gets close enough, trapping me between him and the wall.

“You’re hogging the ice cream,” Joe announces playfully.

“Serves you right,” I contend.

Joe presses his body more into mine, blocking me from being able to get more ice cream. Our eyes stay locked as we have a battle of wits. Joe cups my face and lowers his lips to mine, and before I know it, he’s gotten a hold of the spoon. He sticks the spoon in his mouth while trying to get a hold of the bowl. My hands shift it back and forth behind his back, toying with him until he captures both of my forearms. I relinquish the bowl, not wanting to drop it.

To my surprise, Joe takes a scoop of the chocolatey confection and offers me some. I hesitantly bob my head forward, not sure if he’ll tease me again. Joe gently presses the spoon into my mouth as I reach out a third time, releasing a satisfied moan in my throat. While my mouth manipulates the cold item, Joe takes a bite for himself. It doesn’t take long for the two of us to finish our dessert, obviously both eager for a second helping of each other.

“Time for my favorite dessert,” Joe announces, taking my hand and pulling me into his bedroom. He places the empty bowl and spoon on his dresser. As if we’re dancing, Joe spins me, cradling my body into his. His mouth finds my neck, his left hand slides up my shirt, cupping my breast and his right hand rubs over my underwear, exciting my clitoris. My body immediately falls under his spell, eager to please and be pleased.

“Should I make you wait?” he playfully asks, removing his hand from my sex.

“No,” I object, desperate for his touch. I instinctually move to face him, but he blocks me from turning.

“Hmmmmm,” he hums into my ear. “Maybe, I should tie you up.”

“No,” I mildly protest.

The idea of being tied down excites and frightens me at the same time. He willingly let me tie him up — should I do the same for him?

“Would you like me to tie you up?” he sinfully inquires. Joe’s hand slides back down between my thighs.