Breathe Out (Just Breathe, #2)(30)

“I couldn’t stay . . . in the store . . . it was, distracting,” he offers.

“Distracting?” I repeat, not understanding. Ideas stir as to what he means by that. “Distracting? As in . . . ?”

Joe’s cheeks redden as it’s even harder for him to look at me.

“As in . . . turned on?” I check.

“Yeah,” he admits, hanging his head again. “I’ve never been in one before . . . a shop like that, that is. And, knowing I was in there, getting them for you . . . I . . . .”

My body relaxes, my eyes soften and a smile forms on my face. “So, how did you get them?”

Joe finally lifts his gaze back to mine. “I bought them online. I hope they’re okay. I wasn’t sure if they’d be good, or fit the same with . . . .”

My mouth connects to his, taking it with firm sweetness. “They’re perfect. Thank you,” I comment, barely taking my lips away from Joe’s.

“Should you make sure?”

“Make sure what?”

“That they fit and you like them,” he bashfully explains.

“They’ll be fine,” I state. “But, if you’d like to see a pair on, for the opportunity to rip them off, I could.”

A genuine smile returns to Joe’s face. “I’d like to seem them on, but I’m not willing to rip them off . . . not just yet,” he replies, content with my reaction.

I graciously put each pair on, allowing him to inspect each fit. He has me stand two feet away and directs me with his hands on my hip to turn until I’m facing him again. Joe seems pleased with what he ordered, especially once I admit that they are all very comfortable and that I like them. I tease him that I need to get some matching bras, which he’s quick to offer to buy. I refuse, saying that I hope that he’ll be ripping off a few more in the not too distant future.





Fifty Nine


Sunday through Tuesday, I purposefully keep focused on work, getting as much done as I can before Joe and I leave to meet up with his parents in Oregon to see the facility. Joe and I are scheduled to fly up Thursday morning, spending the entire weekend with his parents. They insist on making it both a trip for business and some added pleasure by visiting some of the local beaches and city areas.


Tuesday afternoon, I head over to Nathaniel’s with Maggie and Sadie to check in with Nathan and Jared. Jared is doing some filming at Nathaniel’s and then more tomorrow at their apartment for Naturally Me. Nathan continues to block me from seeing anything that pertains to my dress for the premier. I try to sneak off to get a peek after hearing Maggie squeal once she sees it, but my attempts are deflected by everyone. The entire winter line is complete and stunning. Several pieces have been picked up by a retailer thanks to the connections from Jimmy, Henry and Joe.

“Why can’t I see it?” I ask for the sixth time today. “I know it’s ready.”

“It’s not ready,” Nathan challenges. “Not yet.”

“You’ve got to have it done,” I accuse. “You need enough time to make alterations.”

“I’ll have plenty of time,” Nathan replies. “Now, stop bothering me. I’m working.”

“Jared?” I whine, hoping to get some bit of support.

“You heard him, Kitten,” Jared chuckles.

“Seriously?” I say in disbelief.

“Seriously,” Jared repeats.

Frustrated, I head back to Nathan’s office to resume work until it’s time to leave.

After having dinner with Nathan, Jared, Maggie and Pop-Pop, Sadie and I head home. There’s still a lot to take care of before my flight to Oregon. Maggie drops Sadie and me off by ten and I’m in bed and reading a book by eleven. Maggie would have stayed, but she’s been occupied with getting the house fully decorated before Henry gets home from another business trip since the remainder of the furniture has finally been delivered. Joe and I talk for a little bit, but I claim that I’m too tired to come over. I’m not really tired — I’m fighting the urge to show my desire for him. Instead, after he and I are finished talking, I masturbate with B.O.B. and Master P who are unable to deliver the satisfaction that Joe Covelli can.

The sound of my phone vibrating wakes me from sleep. Barely focused, my eyes do recognize that it’s Maggie calling at two thirty-nine in the morning. “Maggie,” my voice hoarsely greets.

“Emma,” Maggie sobs.

“What’s going on?” I question.

The sound of her voice has me extremely concerned.

“Emma,” she repeats sniffling. Her voice falters and I can’t make out what she’s saying.

“Maggie, I can’t understand you. What’s wrong?” I instruct as my heart fills with worry.

“It hurts,” she mumbles.

“What hurts?” I check, not understanding.

“There’s . . .” she begins, but cuts herself off with more sobs.

“What?” I say frantically.

“There’s . . . so much . . . blood,” she announces, gulping for air.

“Did you fall? What happened? Where’s your staff?” I press as I get up and start getting dressed.

“No . . .” she answers, bawling more. “No . . . .”