Breathe Out (Just Breathe, #2)(44)

“Tell me when you’re going to cum,” I direct, biting his earlobe.

Joe grunts his understanding.

My hands slide down his thighs, grazing his balls, which elicits a moan and makes Joe’s eyes flutter. He gently tugs on my neck, pulling my mouth to his. Stabilizing myself with my right hand on the back of the tub, my left continues to fondle his sack while we kiss, causing Joe to grunt into my mouth. He whines when I pull away, but doesn’t seem too upset when I return to his nipples.

“God, Emma,” he says through gritted teeth.

“You better tell me when,” I demand, biting down on his left nipple.

Joe yanks my mouth back to his. After his tongue swirls with mine several times, Joe rests his forehead on mine. “I’m . . . going to . . .” he announces.

I pull to watch, but he’s got a strong hold on me, so my eyes look down just in enough time to see him cum into the water.

“Fuck, beautiful,” he whimpers.

“See . . . not sex,” I mention.

Joe laughs. “Not sex.”

He cups my face, kissing me for several long, passionate minutes before shifting his hands down to my ass and scooping me closer into him. We stay together for several more minutes, consumed by the presence of each other until Sadie walks up and drinks some of the water.

“Sadie,” I softly scold.

Normally I wouldn’t care. Epsom salt, water and essential oils won’t hurt her, but the idea of her also getting two other flavors does not make me feel good.

I push Sadie’s head back, shifting off of Joe to climb out of the tub. Grabbing her bowl that’s by the door, I fill it and she drinks it eagerly.

As the tub drains, Joe turns on the shower and we hop in. Once we’ve finished, I offer to go to his room to get some clothes, but Joe objects, saying he doesn’t mind lounging naked or in a towel. Joe helps me with my lotion and once he’s got my entire body covered, he uses some for himself. He heads out to the bedroom first, expecting me to be right behind him. I quickly close the door and lock it so I can get my menstrual cup back in without any curious onlookers.

When I open the door, I’m meet with a quizzical look from Joe. I bite my lip and shrug my shoulders as I walk past him, noticing that he’s still naked.

We turn on a movie, but we hardly pay attention to it. As I lay on my back in the middle of the bed, Joe, still naked but under the covers from the waist down, lays on his stomach between my legs with his head on my chest. I play with his hair as he kisses me occasionally and we talk about different things.


“Henry and Maggie seem to back to their regular selves,” Joe mentions.

“Yeah,” I agree with a smile.

“And, it looks like you are too,” he adds.

My lips purse together and I nod, not really wanting to talk about it.

“Are you feeling better?” Joe checks.

“Yeah,” I confirm.

“You don’t sound it,” Joe accuses politely.

“I just don’t like talking about it,” I share. “I’m sorry for how I acted.”

“What do you mean?” he asks confused.

“For fighting you when you were trying to console me. For avoiding you and everyone and . . . for leaving the way I did,” I explain.

“I don’t think you need to apologize,” Joe states. “We all deal with things differently . . . and that was pretty intense for everyone involved, even me.”

I shrug my shoulders, accepting his words to some extend.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Joe encourages. “I actually thought you would have responded differently.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask, curious by his statement.

Joe lets out a heavy breath. “Jared . . . he explained some things to me.” He pauses, waiting and watching for my reaction. “Things about your past . . . like how things were for you the first year or so when you two met.”

I wince hearing his words, but I’m not as uncomfortable as I thought I would be.

“Don’t be mad at Jared,” Joe requests sweetly. “I asked . . . and pushed to know . . . just in case I could help.”

My head bobs in reply. “What did he tell you?”

With a soft smile, Joe’s body noticeably relaxes. “Little things,” Joe begins. “How you didn’t get into a car for several years. How you’d have panic attacks when you finally did . . . having the dream all those nights.” Joe’s pauses for a few seconds. “How you like to control things . . . like it’s your way of coping with the stuff you can’t. How he believed that Maggie’s miscarriage might make you more distant . . . at least for a while.”

I look away, wanting to hide the pain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Joe searches.

“What?”

“Maggie . . . the mis . . . .”

“Don’t,” I snap a little, cutting him off. “Please. Don’t say the word okay?”

“Sure, beautiful,” Joe agrees, moving closer to console me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I answer.

“I . . . it was hard,” I share.

“I know,” Joe agrees.

“I’m sorry I left and didn’t let anyone . . . .”