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Just Breathe Series (Trilogy Box Set)

Page 109

by Martha Sweeney


  He plays a few more songs, ones that I recognize like Jason Mraz, Ed Sheeran, John Legend and Maroon Five, and then snuggles back under the blankets with me.

  “Thank you,” I say, pulling up a few of his chest hairs until they fall out of my grip and repeat the affection.

  “For what?” Joe searches.

  “For this . . . today,” I explain. “For not going crazy and all.”

  “The day’s not over yet,” Joe reminds with a chuckle.

  “I know,” I agree.

  “Don’t worry, beautiful,” he says kissing my temple. “I promise it’s nothing too crazy.”

  “Good,” I reply.

  By four, Joe tells me we have to get dressed and head back to land. I pout, but do as I’m told with promises of more naked time later.

  After the boat is docked, we get back in the car and make our way to a beach house that Joe has rented for the next couple of nights. Joe and I rinse off and get dressed for dinner. I’m not sure where he’s taking me, but he did say that it would be fancy.

  With red lace panties on — one of the pairs Joe bought me — I finish getting ready in the bathroom with the door closed while Joe finishes in the main room. Wanting to be romantic, and hopefully not cheesy, I put on the red dress Anna packed for me that fits firmly to my body and stops at my knees that has cap sleeves and an open back. Once my hair is up and my makeup is on, I wait by the door to make sure Joe is ready before exiting.

  “I’m ready, beautiful,” Joe announces after my knock and inquiry.

  My hand shakes a little as I open the door. When it’s halfway open, my heart jumps into my throat at the sight of Joe turning to face me as he finishes putting on a cufflink. He’s wearing dark grey pants with matching vest, a white button shirt and a red tie that practically matches the color of my dress.

  Joe’s body freezes as he takes in the complete sight of me. “You’re so . . . beautiful, Emma,” he breathes out on a strain.

  I can’t help but smile. “Thanks,” I return. A few seconds later, after trying to compose myself, I comment, “You look pretty good yourself.”

  It takes us what feels like a whole minute to completely collect ourselves before our bodies are capable of moving.

  “You ready?” Joe asks, clearing his throat and offering his arm for me to take.

  “Yes,” I confirm even though I still feel a little weak in the knees.

  We barely say anything as we practically sit on top of each other in the back seat.

  After some time, right as the car arrives with a stop, Joe says, “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I inquire.

  “For today . . . being with me,” he comments.

  “Thank you,” I return, offering my lips.

  A few seconds later, the back door opens and Joe gets out faster than I’m able to process that we’ve arrived to our destination. I hurry over the seat, eager to see where we are since I haven’t paid attention to anything other than Joe. When my head turns in the direction of the building, my feet stop for a moment. I can feel my body shaking as I recognize our destination.

  “I figured it would be romantic to have dinner where we had our first date,” Joe whispers in my ear. “We don’t have to . . . .”

  “It’s perfect,” I announce, cutting him off.

  Joe leads me inside Spago and the maitre d’ ushers us to the exact same table where Joe and I dined the last time we were here together — the date just before Hawaii.

  “Is this a coincidence?” I ponder as Joe pushes in my chair.

  “No,” he chuckles. “I told Chef Andrews that I wanted the same table when we arrived.”

  “Of course," I muse.

  “We can change tables if you want,” Joe offers sweetly.

  “This is perfect,” I reply. “Thank you.”

  The waiter offers a bottle for Joe to look at and Joe is quick to nod acceptance. Then, the server pours our drinks and leaves us without menus.

  “No menus?” I ask, speculating that it’s the same as last time.

  Joe smirks as his only answer.

  “Hello, my dear friend,” Chef Andrew states as he approaches our table from behind me.

  “Hello,” Joe replies, standing and embracing the chef.

  “Ahh,” Chef Andrew breathes out. “It looks like things have been going well, I see.” He offers me a comical grin as if to say I told you so.

  “Hello, Chef,” I greet as he takes my hand and kisses it. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” he returns. “Or, shall I say all Joe’s?”

  “She’s with me,” Joe states with a hint of sternness behind light humor.

  “Of course she is,” the chef replies. “I saw pictures of you two in the news for a while now. I told you she’d come around.”

  I roll my eyes to his statement. Joe and the chef exchange a few manly, boastful expressions.

  “I have something special just for the two of you,” Chef Andrews announces. “Sit. Drink. Eat. I hope to delight your taste buds with every bite, making you fall even more in love with each other.”

  I take a deep breath at the chef’s charismatic way and use of the L word.

  He offers to push in my chair before returning to the kitchen.

  For the next several hours, as there are half as many tables in the restaurant that are decorated specifically for the holiday, Joe and I chat, joke and recount stories about our times together as we dine on the delicacies prepared by the kitchen.

  “I . . . um,” Joe begins, barely able to speak and seeming unusually nervous. “I wanted to give you your gift before dessert comes out.”

  “Gift?” I question with shock.

  “Yes,” Joe affirms. “The boat and dinner aren’t the only things.”

  My lips purse, eager and anxious.

  Joe places a short, rectangular, white box with red ribbon around it on the table and pushes it toward me. “It kind of goes with the concept of our trip out to sea. I know it’s cheesy, but it made me think of you when I saw it.”

  My hand shakes a little as I reach for it. Before opening the box, my eyes bounce between it and Joe’s face several time. “I got you something too,” I admit. “But, I don’t have it with me. It’s back at the beach house and I didn’t know if . . . when . . . .”

  “Emma,” Joe interrupts sweetly. He offers a reassuring smile that has an undertone of nervousness as he reaches and touches my hand that is surrounding his gift. “It’s okay. I didn’t get you something expecting something from you. You can give it to me when you’re ready.”

  “Okay,” I say as he slides the box closer to me.

  My lips part to say something, but I’m too distracted by the beauty of the colors of the stones, crystals and shell that are the exquisite necklace.

  “It’s called the Ocean Energy Necklace,” Joe explains. “Maggie took me to Energy Muse when I asked about all of your jewelry. It’s supposed to be balancing, calming and cleansing,” Joe mentions. “There’s more to it, but I don’t remember.” Joe pauses for a second, maybe trying to remember or expecting me to say something. “Do you like it?” he checks.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” I say, feeling probably just as nervous as him. My gaze stays fixed on the necklace as I hold it delicately in my hands. “Thank you.”

  “And, for the two lovebirds,” Chef Andrews announces suddenly. “I have a lovely raspberry panna cotta.”

  Two servers, each carrying a single plate, places the desserts in front of Joe and me.

  I put the necklace back in its box before eating.

  As we finish our yummy confections, my heart flutters at the idea of giving Joe his gift when we get back to the beach. When Joe assists me with my shaw, the chef says his farewell and hands Joe a Valentine’s gift bag and a bottle of wine for us to take.

  In the car, we peer into the box from the chef and find at least a dozen chocolate covered strawberries inside, flanked by what looks like cho
colate covered raspberries an some other treats as well.

  I ask Joe to help me put the necklace on as soon as we put the dessert bag off to the side.

  “You don’t have to put it on,” Joe comments.

  “I want to,” I reply.

  A boyish grin spreads on Joe’s face while he assists me.

  Before the door to our beach house is open, my lips are on Joe’s as I frantically contemplate how to give him his gift — I guess there’s no easy way of doing this.

  “We have all night, beautiful,” Joe chuckles as my hands are quick to get his vest undone and desperate to remove his jacket as we make our way into the foyer. “There’s no need to hurry.”

  “I know,” I comment. “I . . . I want you.”

  I need to summon the courage to do this — can I do this?

  Joe pulls away a little and takes my hand, leading me upstairs to the bedroom. Joe places the bag and wine on the table, then his jacket on the chair as I groan in protest. He loosens his tie with one hand as he tries to temper me with the other and his lips gradually connect with mine.

  I huff irritation, more at myself than him because of my nerves. Turning, I head to one of my bags that rests inside of the armoire.

  The sound of music fills the air.

  “What’s wrong?” Joe asks, placing his hands on my hips. He wraps his arms around me when I stand up and starts swaying us to the music.

  “Nothing,” I sigh. I turn to face him and hide the box behind my back.

  “What do you have there?” he asks as he continues to kiss me sweetly.

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  “Is it fuzzy handcuffs?” he jokes.

  My eyes widen slightly in response.

  “Seriously?!” he checks, clearly perplexed by my expression.

  “No,” I reply timidly.

  “Then what?” he coaxes, continuing to persuade me with his mouth as we dance.

  Taking a deep breath after pulling my lips away from his, I instruct, “Sit.” My left arm extends in the direction of the bed.

  Joe’s smile widens and he takes several steps backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed.

  “Sit,” I command a little more confidently.

  Joe complies.

  My body fidgets, not sure how to begin. “Umm . . .” I stutter.

  Joe waits patiently for me.

  “Okay, here,” I say sharply, taking three large steps in his direction, forcing myself to do it before I chicken out.

  His large hands reach forward and I drop the box and move away from him. My hands feel clammy and my heart is racing. As he takes the lid off, my eyes shut and my head jerks to the side, unable to watch. A ringing goes off in my ears that drowns out any other sounds but the faint melody of the music.

  Joe is silent for what feels like several minutes which forces me to look in his direction.

  A single tear trails down the entire length of Joe’s left cheek as he stares at the metal object in his hand.

  “You hate it,” I blurt, reaching for the gift.

  Joe yanks his hand away and places it over his heart as he looks up at me and stands. “No,” he huffs with sadness in his voice. “No. I don’t hate it.” Another tear falls down his other cheek.

  “Then . . .” I begin, confused by the sight of him crying. Before I get to finish my question, Joe’s hands are cupping my face as his lips press firmly against mine. He doesn’t let go until we both need a breath.

  “I didn’t mean to make you upset,” I say as we stay connected.

  “I’m not upset,” Joe reveals with a slight chuckle.

  “Then . . . .”

  “I’m happy,” he shares. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” His mouth takes mine again. “Thank you.”

  The sharp edges of the metal press into my cheek more as Joe refuses to let me go. “Don’t get too excited about it,” I say, dismissing the level of meaning behind the item. I gently peel back his hand that is holding it so I can see his gift.

  “Sorry,” he apologizes as he brushes his fingers over my skin. “I didn’t mean to . . . .”

  “I know,” I agree, feeling the small indentations on my face.

  “Will you put them on?” he asks sweetly, handing them to me as he retrieves his keys from his pocket.

  “Sure,” I confirm. My hands nervously add the set of my apartment keys I had made just for him.

  I had Taylor go get them made first thing in the morning when the store opened.

  “Beautiful,” Joe calls, gliding his fingers down my face and kissing my head as I struggle to get the keys on. “Thank you so much, beautiful.” Just as I get the keys on, Joe steps in and delivers one of the most fervent kisses he’s ever given me.

  The sound of the metal clinks as Joe steps closer — echoing like they’re back in his pocket. He presses me against the amour and slowly begins to take off my dress, guiding it past my shoulders as he kisses my now more bare body and lets the dress fall to the floor. As I stand wearing nothing but my panties and heels, Joe meticulously removes his tie, unbuttons his shirt and removes it along with his vest, all while not letting me touch him. He moves closer, surrounding me with his arms as his lips reconnect with mine. He allows me to undo his belt as he takes off his undershirt. His pants fall to the floor in a hurry and Joe is quick to scoop me up with my legs wrapped around him.

  With one arm tightly curled around my waist, Joe uses his other to guide us effortlessly to the bed. His mouth gradually explores my lips, neck, shoulders, chest, bouncing around several times before drifting south. His warm, wet tongue trickles over my skin, evoking goosebumps.

  A low, hearty chuckle releases from Joe’s throat as he buries his face between my legs. “One of mine?” he inquires.

  With a smirk, I nod confirmation.

  “To rip . . . or not to rip . . . that is the question?” Joe hums as he inspects the see-through lace, gently pushing his lips against them several times to kiss me.

  I laugh but do not comment — I don't care what he does.

  Capturing the right side with his teeth, Joe tugs them down a few inches and then moves to the other side. Back and forth, he gradually removes them. “Time for my favorite dessert,” he says, licking his lips.

  Joe returns his tongue to my body, kissing, licking and nipping at my ankles all the way up to my inner thighs after he removes each of my shoes. My fingers get lost in his hair as he brings me close to release.

  As my body finishes shuddering from my first orgasm, Joe creeps up my body and offers his mouth to me. My legs wrap around his waist, excited for penetration. While we kiss, Joe slides one of his hands down my body and starts to whirl his fingers over my clitoris before sliding inside my hole. He brings me close but doesn’t let me reach full satisfaction.

  Once shifted over me, Joe dips the tip of his penis inside several times, teasing us both. I groan in protest, but Joe continues to move at his lackadaisical pace. As if we’ve got all the time in the world and no one else matters in the universe other than the two of us, Joe and I get lost in each other’s embrace. Our bodies move as if they have a mind of their own, knowing what to do at each precise moment for optimal pleasure.

  When my fourth orgasm begins to surface, Joe laces our hands together as his forehead rests against mine. As we climax simultaneously, Joe grunts, “Emma . . . I love you.”

  My throat begins to swell and my breathing becomes a little erratic.

  He studies me for a second. “I don’t expect you to say anything . . . I . . . I just . . .” he pauses, “. . . I just need you to know how I feel.”

  My throat clenches and tears begin to form in my eyes as he stares at me, patiently watching and waiting for my reaction.

  “Emma?” Joe searches. “You okay?”

  Unable to speak, my head nods as I yank his head down and press my lips to his.

  My usual urge to run is non-existent. Why?

  Not wanting to focus on my confusing reaction to Joe’s words, I u
se my body to distract myself — to distract him. Our bodies entwine for another glorious round of pleasure and it dawns on me when Joe utters those three little words again that all this time, when our bodies have played this beautiful symphony together, it’s been his way of telling me that he loves me — why haven’t I realized it before?

  One Hundred Eighteen

  “Beautiful,” a low, sexy voice calls.

  “Hmm,” I barely answer.

  “Beautiful,” it repeats.

  “Hmmmm,” I reply, keeping my eyes closed.

  “I love you,” Joe whispers in my neck.

  “Mmm hmm,” I hum.

  Joe chuckles at my reply.

  Sadie snuggles up to us more.

  “Anna came in about a half hour ago and took care of Sadie,” Joe mentions.

  “Go figure,” I comment.

  “Do you want to sleep more, or should I get up and make us breakfast?” he inquires.

  “You didn’t have Anna take care of that too?” I tease.

  “No,” he laughs, kissing me. “I wanted to make it for you.”

  I open my right eye part way to look at him. “Why?”

  “To say thank you.”

  “For what?” I question.

  “For yesterday. For my gift. For last night,” he states.

  “What about last night?”

  “Not freaking out and leaving,” he says.

  “About what?”

  Joe chuckles. “About me telling you that I love you.” He kisses me again.

  “As long as you don’t expect it back,” I return, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Nope,” Joe says with a widening grin.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he replies.

  “What?” I press.

  “I know you’ll say it . . . in time,” he assumes.

  “Somebody’s cocky today,” I suggest.

  “I’m always cocky for you, beautiful,” Joe muses.

  “Yes, you are,” I answer, offering my lips and rubbing his erection.

  “Where are you going?” Joe inquires as I get out of bed. He tries to pull me back in.

  “I need to pee,” I reveal.

  “Just make sure you get back in bed when you’re done,” he directs sweetly.

 

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