Breathe Out (Just Breathe, #2)(81)

Biting my lip, my head bows when I say, “I’ve gotten excited at the idea a few times . . . .”

“With me?”

“Yes,” my voice shakes.

“Really?” he says, sounding a little more eager to talk.

“Yes,” I confirm.

We lay looking at each other for a few minutes not sure what to say.

“So,” I begin. “You’re not opposed to the position . . . just the name?”

“The name mostly. . .” he verifies, “. . . but, even the position bothers me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve seen some porn where the women look like they’re in pain,” he says.

“I’ve seen some where the women look like they thoroughly enjoy it,” I gently counter.

“You’ve watched porn?” he questions, shocked by my admittance.

“We aren’t discussing that right now, but yes.”

I can see the questions and desire flooding his brain by the look on his face.

“So, if I’m willing to try, are you?” I ask nervously. I still see some contention in his face and an idea pops into my head. “What if we call it something else instead of doggy style?”

“What?” he chuckles.

“What if we call it . . . bunny style,” I giggle.

“Bunny style?” Joe repeats with a smirk.

“Yeah,” I support. “Bunny style.” I laugh, saying it again.

“So, you’ve watched porn?” he redirects the conversation.

“Yes,” I proudly state. “Why?”

“I’ve never heard of a woman watching porn. How often do you do it?” he peruses.

“Many women watch it. That’s how Maggie and I got comfortable with the idea of doing it before we popped each other’s cherry,” I say nonchalantly. My hand clasps over my mouth, shocked by my willingness to reveal so much.

Joe doesn’t say anything for a moment, astonished by my sharing before he nervously chuckles. “So, you two . . . .”

“That’s not up for discussion until we’re done talking about bunny style,” I deflect.

“We’re done talking about bunny style,” he insists.

“No, we aren’t,” I contend. “Stop trying to change the subject. We haven’t agreed or disagreed about bunny style.”

Joe laughs and kisses me on the nose. “Bunny style it is.”

“Really?” I say surprised.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “If this is something you really want, I don’t mind adding another first to our list.”

“How many are on the list?” I explore.

“Don’t change the topic,” he chides teasingly. “You brought it back around to bunny style.” He leans in and kisses me.

“I don’t think I’m the only one who’s curious to try it,” I goad.

Joe smiles, but doesn’t comment. “So . . . you and Maggie . . . and porn?”

I cover my face with my arm. “Yes.”

“Good to know,” he says, not pushing further.

I wait a minute or two, but Joe doesn’t say anything — his expression says it all. He wants to know more, but is afraid to ask.

“Maggie and I were eighteen and still virgins. We didn’t want our first time being with a guy, so we went to where Sophia, one of Jared’s friends worked at the local adult shop in WeHo, got some toys and she gave us some porn sites,” I share, wincing a little.

Joe just smiles. I’m figuring that he’s trying to picture it in his head.

“I watch porn on occasion. It helps when I’ve had long stretches in between sex with guys or Maggie,” I continue.

“Have you used it in between our times?” he asks hesitantly.

Looking away, I confirm, “Yes.”

“Good to know,” Joe says, followed by a kiss.

“What about you?” I investigate.

“What about me?”

“Who and when was your first time?” I inquire.

“Why?”

“I’m doing a lot of sharing. It’s your turn,” I explain.


“It was a girl from high school,” he huffs, clearly not wanting to share. “I regretted it the next day. I was seventeen, a little drunk, her more so, and it meant nothing. The next day at school, she tried to make it into a relationship and I refused. She’s not my type in any way — never was and never will be.”

“What is your type?” I probe.

Why the hell did I just ask him that?

Joe shoots me a wicked smile. “You.”

I’m uncomfortable, yet slightly smitten with his answer.

“Joe,” I whine.

“I know, beautiful,” he comments. “Just friends. Just sex.” He kisses my hand. “For now . . . .”

“No,” I contend.

“Yes,” he says, followed by a kiss. “Besides, I know you secretly liked the fact that Taylor called you my lady.”

“No, I didn’t,” I challenge.

“Yes you did,” he claims.

I roll my eyes and move to get up, but he pulls me back down. We stay snuggled with Sadie a few more minutes before getting up to make dinner. Joe actually helps prepare our meal when his hands or lips aren’t attached to my body somewhere. His touch is soft and gentle like he craves the contact as much as I do, but doesn’t push for it to be more than just to be connected in one way or another. My body instantly responds to each of his caresses, content with the idea that he’s as tactile as I am.