Cup of Joe (Bold Brew 1)

“I don’t disagree, actually.” Joe’s laugh was a little pained, but some of his usual humor had returned to his eyes. “But that’s kind of what I meant. I’m still figuring out what dynamic works for me now that I’m thirty-five rather than twenty-five and a bossy muscle top.”

“But you’re still bossy.” I felt honor bound to point out the obvious.

That got a bigger chuckle. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t get a personality transplant.”

“Good.” I twisted in my seat again, back to too much energy and absolutely no interest in the rest of my pizza.

“Levi.” Joe groaned my name like a prayer, and if that was what he sounded like frustrated, all deep and sexy, I desperately wanted to hear my name on his lips for a different reason.

“What?”

Joe’s eyes fluttered shut and his voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Maybe I can’t help it.”

Cracking his eyes open, he went all stern again. “Bullshit. And I’m not saying I don’t like it.” He paused to hold up a hand when I started beaming at that bit of news. “But I’m also trying to be good here. You’re young, vulnerable, just off a bad breakup. I’m older—”

“That’s not a detraction for me. And I’m not vulnerable.” I pursed my mouth, unhappy with that assessment. I might want a champion, but I could also handle my business. Mostly. “Yes, he left me in a bad situation, but I’m taking care of myself. And is there some sort of official timeline on a breakup when it becomes okay to get laid again? Because I’d like to know that.”

“You are such trouble.” Joe’s smile was slightly crooked, like he was trying to decide if he wanted my brand of trouble or not.

To help him make up his mind, I touched his sleeve. Warm, firm biceps under the sturdy cotton. I wanted more so badly. “If I’m single and you’re single, I don’t see why we shouldn’t at least kiss.”

“Because you need a friend, not—”

“You’ve never kissed a friend?” My tone was as skeptical as the rest of me.

“I’ve kissed friends.” Angling toward me, Joe used the arm I hadn’t claimed to touch my shoulder. Huge hand. Gentle. And he was touching me. Win.

“I could help with that whole getting-your-kink-mojo-back thing.”

“How do you figure that?” He sounded genuinely curious, rather than apprehensive and noble like a few moments ago. Another win, as was his hand moving to my jaw.

“I’m new. I’m still finding out what I like too.” I offered him a smile I hoped was encouraging, not creepy. “I know I like being ordered around, and I know I really don’t like extreme humiliation, but beyond that, I’m still woefully inexperienced.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re a virgin.” Joe flopped back against the sofa, but he didn’t drop his hand, still idly stroking my jaw.

“I’m not. Exactly.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask about the exactly.”

I couldn’t tell from his voice if he was teasing. Maybe I’d gone from being extra to legit annoying. Last thing I wanted was to come on too strong. I took a steadying breath. “You want me to stop? Get back to the game?”

“No.” Joe’s voice was a whisper again, but darker now, sexier. “Tell me.”

“Hands. Oral. Kissing. Some kinky stuff, but a lot I’d still like to try.” Emboldened, I stroked his arm again, liking when he visibly shuddered. “I haven’t done anal yet. Kinda glad it wasn’t with the jerk ex, because we had differing opinions on condoms.”

I certainly had plenty of fantasies though. But my limited experience had shown me that reality didn’t always live up to fantasies, and that added to my nerves, made me more than okay with waiting.

“Safety shouldn’t be a negotiating point.” Joe shifted seamlessly from under my spell to firm and commanding. I probably needed to get over this daydream of mine of him hitting Rick, but Joe was so damn good in the protector role.

“I like it when you get all stern.” I squeezed his biceps. “You’re almost scary, but a good scary.”

“I try not to be too scary.” He was all serious as he peered deep into my eyes. There was a message there, and I rather liked it.

“I know. I like that about you too.”

Groaning softly, he traced my lips with his thumb. “You make it very tough to do the right thing.”

“So do the wrong one maybe.” Swinging a leg over, I straddled his thighs. And waited.

Chapter Seven

Joe

“I knew you were trouble.” With a lap full of Levi, it was a marvel that I could breathe, let alone speak. He smelled vaguely beachy—some sort of citrus or ocean shampoo that added to the way he swamped all my senses. Balanced on his knees, he had a devilish glint in his eyes, but also a little uncertainty there that showed in the tension in his legs as well. He’d move back the second I asked.