Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2)

by Zoe Norman

  “Shhh, baby. Don’t cry. It’s okay. We don’t need to finish if you don’t want to,” he coos as he strokes my face, tracing the curve of my jaw with his index finger.

  Smiling the best I can, I want to make some gesture to reassure him, but I don’t trust my voice right now. So instead, I move my hands up his arms to his neck, lowering him until our lips are just a hairsbreadth away from each other. We stay like this for a moment, me breathing his air, him breathing mine. I whisper, “Yes”, and bring him the last little bit down until our lips meet.

  Our kiss is slow and deep, tears flooding my eyes again. What would I ever do if I lost him? It’s this thought that fills my head, taking me away from this moment that is keeping me from being able to drop my defenses enough to orgasm. I need it to go away. I need to empty my head.

  I relax my legs and start to rub against his still hard length, which is nestled just against my slit. I rub...rub...rub...feeling myself growing wetter and more aroused. He’s twitching, his cock jumping, and I hear him hiss. He starts to kiss down my neck as I continue. I turn his head so his ear is against my mouth.

  “Make it go away, Owen. Make everything cluttering my mind go away. I just want to be filled with you and me and this.”

  Wordlessly, he kisses me. It is soft, loving, unhurried, all along the tops of my breasts, working his tongue over my hard nipple. He flicks the bud before moving to the other nipple, sucking on it hard. Slipping a finger along the length of my wet seam, he lets out a groan. Then, scooting farther down my body, he leisurely kisses my belly and pays special attention to my lower abdomen. He moves farther still, his fingers spreading my folds wide as his tongue licks there. I cry out as he laps at me before taking my clit in his mouth, sucking, and rubbing it with his tongue, priming me again.

  With my legs trembling from the sensation, he works at me with his magic tongue. He makes long passes with it, sliding it inside me, teasing me, then French kissing my pussy. It’s unreal, surreal. I can feel wetness trickling down the crack of my ass. I’m wet, he’s drooling, and it makes my eyes roll to the back of my head. I grab his hair and pull hard as his tongue finds my clit again, sucking intensely. He grunts but doesn’t stop.

  His hands start to slide up my thighs, rubbing, massaging, and then moving up farther until they’re both covering my lower belly. He rubs slow circles with both his palms over my stomach, caressing it reverently, his mouth still going. It tugs at my heart. We’re doing what we know created this life inside me. We are connected everywhere.

  “Ahhhh, Owen…” I whisper. My hands continue to rub his hair and his licks start to slow and rise.

  He kisses up until he’s over the same spot on my belly he was just caressing with his hands before he nuzzles there murmuring something I can’t make out again. He stays there for so long that I almost wonder if he has forgotten about me—until he starts to crawl back up my body. When he is eye to eye with me again, he stares at me with a softness in his eyes I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

  “What?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and just keeps staring. A bright shock of light flashes outside followed by a tremendous boom. Owen rears back and slides into me to the hilt, his eyes growing wide. We are connected beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before. The words I have to describe how I feel about him are inadequate. He stays embedded in me, my body becoming accustomed to him once again until my hands reach down my sides, grasping his hips, encouraging him to move. Straightening his arms on either side of my head as he slowly starts to raise and lower himself into me, his eyes never leave mine. This is what I needed, and I feel like I have more than just his eyes. I have his soul. After a few deep strokes, he lowers his body to mine, enveloping me with his full weight, his hips thrusting in and dragging him back out. He buries his face in my neck, alternating kissing and love bites as he grinds into me.

  “Mine,” he groans out again and again, louder and louder over the roar of the thunder.

  The weight of his body on me is not uncomfortable. I don’t find it difficult to breathe. It’s damn necessary. Every time he fills me, I huff out a breath, the fullness excruciatingly pleasurable. He stays inside me fully, moving his hips in circles but not pulling out. It elicits a mewl I can’t control from my mouth.

  “I love you…so much,” I say in a breath.

  He groans back, his head tilting to look at me while he continues to slowly move in and out of me. We lock eyes.

  I place my hands on his shoulders and push so he leans up. I keep pushing until he starts to roll over, understanding what I’m trying to do. We roll together, not losing our connection. When I am finally astride him, I adjust my position so he is comfortably seated in me. I move myself back a bit and take his hands to pull him so he’s sitting up. Then we are nose to nose.

  I lean back to prop myself on my hands so I can move my legs and wrap them around his waist. Balancing himself, he slides his hands over my thighs and around to my backside. I offer him my breasts to him, in this position, for his viewing pleasure. At this angle, when I look down between us, I can see where we are joined, and for the first time, I can see a slight swell in my belly. I can’t turn away.

  I don’t know if he’s watching where he is inside me or if he’s seeing what I’m seeing, but we are both completely mesmerized. I look back up at him but can’t see his eyes because they are still fixed downward. With my balance on my hands, I start to move—back and forth, up and down. He lifts his head and gives me a knowing yet naughty smile.

  “You’re so sexy. Jesus. You drive me crazy…” he groans as he continues to watch me grind against him.

  He grabs one of my breasts and squeezes it in his large hands before rolling a taut nipple between his fingers. The gesture gains my attention and I bite my lower lip. Then he places a hand on the mattress behind him to support himself as he starts to thrust up into me, meeting my gyrating hips. As he trails a finger down from my breast to where we are connected, he rubs my clit causing my mouth to fall open and my head to drop back.

  “That’s it, baby. Yes…” he hisses.

  My body quickly responds to the tight circles he makes on my sensitive nub, and tremors start to radiate out from where his finger sits. I continue to move as he rubs me in just the right spots both inside and out.

  “There… Just there…”

  The words slither out of my mouth, my voice husky and sensual. I feel like I have come back. I knew that seeing him would calm my mind, and it did. I knew that seeing him would let me know that we were okay. And I knew that it would free my body to allow itself to enjoy him.

  “Don’t stop, Owen… Please…oh please don’t stop that.”

  His groan is his response—along with the increased pressure on my clit. My head falls back, my hair cascading down my back, and the brushing of the strands sends shivers through me. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is affected by my words. Gradually I start to quiver against him, my breathing erratic. My body is preparing for the orgasm that is so very close.

  The thunder explodes above us just as I do. I throw my hands around Owen’s neck, pulling him tight as I ride out the wave of my orgasm. He grabs a handful of my hair as he erupts inside me. He growls my name as he continues to thrust into me, my muscles clenching and milking the remains of his release.

  Slowly we begin to come down from our climax, continuing to hold each other, neither of us moving. His fingers lightly tickle my back as he buries his face into my neck.

  “I love you so much,” he whispers.

  I pull my head from his neck, albeit reluctantly. We look into each other’s eyes, my fingers pushing the hair off his forehead. Our bodies are still at the mercy of our lovemaking, his sweating and breathing harshly, mine periodically twitching as it comes down. The thunder has not let up outside and the rain pelts the windows. It’s such an intimate setting in here.

  I stroke his cheek. “I love you too.”

  We continue to look into each other’s e
yes as I find my words.

  “You understand, don’t you, Owen? Why? Why I waited? I know it was wrong. I didn’t think it through. My fear froze me, and that wasn’t okay. But it wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you. It was that I wanted to tell you so badly. Does that make sense?”

  His eyes lift to mine, their gaze soft and caring. “What I do know is I love you, and yes, I understand.”

  He lays us back, slipping out of me. Then, so very gently, he pulls me to him, cradling me against his body and stroking my hair until we both fall asleep.

  THE FESTIVITIES FOR SIMON and Reese’s wedding have been going on all day long. I feel like a fish out of water here. While Olivia readies herself for the ceremony, I’m left to fend for myself. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just fine in crowds of people I don’t know—I can make friends wherever I am—but here, I’m just out of my element. I would feel a hell of a lot better if I could just see Olivia and make sure she’s all right. That or I need four shots of vodka.

  A lot of people seem to know who I am, but I have no clue as to who they are. Olivia’s Aunt Edna from Iowa was kind enough to introduce herself to me earlier by giving me a big smooch on the cheek and a hard pinch on my butt. I’m pretty sure I’ll be staying away from her for the rest of the night lest I risk further assault. She kept talking to me about cougars and saying that she “still has it.” I’m trying very hard not to focus on what the ‘it’ is.

  As I’m trying to extricate myself from Aunt Edna’s clutches, I see a few of Simon’s friends make their way into the church. I excuse myself and walk over to the group of men I met at Simon’s bachelor party a few weeks ago. They introduce me to their wives and we speak in code about Simon’s last night out as a single man, much to the chagrin of the wives who are itching for gossip. Of course, everyone in the group knows and adores Olivia, and the women start machine-gunning me questions about when I’m going to propose to her. It’s like there’s blood in the water or something. Eventually, the couples decide that it’s time to find seats for the ceremony and I’m given a reprieve from the onslaught of personal questions.

  The guests are starting to arrive and settle themselves for the big event. Soft music has started playing and the mood is set for a romantic night for two people I’ve grown quiet fond of to get married. Simon and Reese are pretty much perfect together. The bride is nowhere near the demure woman I first had her pegged for. She’s a spitfire and can manage Simon’s antics. And Simon? I’ve come to respect him quite a bit over these many months. His willingness to support and protect his family rings true for me. Not to mention the man can come up with the raunchiest jokes. I have no idea where he comes up with that shit. Olivia says that he comes by it naturally—he’s just that gross. Simon and Reese are important to Olivia; therefore, they are important to me. Their relationship has helped me realize what I’ve really known all along: Olivia is perfect for me.

  Before I find a seat, I go on the hunt for my girl. I’ve hardly seen her all afternoon and I just… I don’t know… I just need to see her. As I approach the ladies’ dressing area, the wedding coordinator grabs my shoulders and spins me around in one swift move.

  “No, no, no. This area is closed off. Go find a seat, Mr. Beautiful,” she scolds.

  “You don’t understand,” I chuckle softly as she’s pushing me down the hall. “I need to see Olivia.”

  “You’re Olivia’s guy?” she asks. “She’s a lucky girl, but no. You can see her in thirty minutes. Now go. Plant your fine ass in a seat and I’ll see you after the reception.”

  “What?”

  “Just sit down,” she huffs as she makes her way back down the hall.

  Put out, I wait in line with the other guests waiting to be seated. After the usher leads me to my row, I take an offered program and find my seat. Right next to Aunt Edna. Perfect.

  A change of music signals that the wedding party will be making their way down the aisle. The doors at the back of the church swing open and Simon seats the family members, exchanging some touching words with both mothers. As he stands at the end of the aisle, awaiting his bride, I envision myself doing the same thing. How it would feel to wait for Olivia on our wedding day. Funny thing is, I feel like I’ve been waiting for Olivia my whole life. Not long ago, I would have broken out into hives while thinking about getting married. It’s amazing how figuring out a few important puzzle pieces can bring the whole picture into focus. I know that I’ve given her mixed signals with the baby on the way, not to mention my feelings on marriage, but after I had time to put things into perspective, everything became perfectly clear.

  Olivia starts her slow walk down the aisle towards the front of the church. She quite literally takes my breath away. I can feel a lump forming in my throat as I watch her. She’s radiant in a soft-pink lace dress that is cut very low and close to her body. It’s both alluring and sweet. At six foot four, I’m taller than a lot of people, so Olivia sees me right away and smiles almost shyly. I beam back at her, giving her my best smile and a reassuring wink. She takes her spot at the front and we all wait for the bride. Everyone but me. I can’t take my eyes off Olivia.

  Olivia places a hand on her belly, a move, I’m starting to notice, she does a lot. When she looks up from her stomach, she catches me watching and smiles. I mouth, “I love you,” and Olivia’s cheeks blush before she blows me a kiss back.

  The doors at the back of the church open wide again and Reese appears. I hear a soft collective gasp from the crowd as they see her standing regally with her father at her side. She’s stunning in her white lace gown, and what’s even more beautiful is the smile that is across her face. I turn to look at Simon, who dabs the corner of his eye with his thumb, and see Olivia doing the same with her hankie.

  Weddings are emotional for most everyone. If you’re related to the person, it’s emotional because you feel love for them. But if you’re someone in the audience, someone in a loving relationship, it has a tendency to make you start thinking about the what-ifs of life. You can bet that most of the twenty- and thirty-something crowd here today, who aren’t currently married are thinking about it right now. I know Olivia is thinking about it.

  I listen as the bride and groom recite their vows. They are heartfelt, passionate, and radiating love. Olivia, of course, is tearing up and uses her embroidered hankie to wipe at her eyes. Shortly after the rings are exchanged, they are pronounced husband and wife and the recessional starts to play.

  The wedding party files down the aisle and the guests all wait to be escorted out. Rather than wait, I shuffle past Aunt Edna and make my way down a side aisle while the last of the party exits. As I enter the foyer, I watch Olivia give Simon a long, touching hug. They both whisper what I’m sure are loving words between them while Olivia wipes away more tears. They’ve always been close, and I will forever admire Simon for the role he’s played in Olivia’s life.

  As she moves on to congratulate Reese, I approach them.

  Reese catches my eye and says, “There he is now!”

  Olivia turns to look, delighted to see me.

  “Hi, beautiful.” I beam.

  She smiles as I kiss Reese on the cheek and shake Simon’s hand, offering them my best wishes. I slide an arm around Olivia’s waist and pull her toward me, my hand resting on her stomach. We both look down between us as I softly stroke her there.

  “You look stunning, Liv. I’ve missed you today,” I murmur against her temple.

  “I missed you too,” she replies, lifting her lips to my mouth and letting me kiss her. “Shall we go to the reception?”

  “Let’s go,” I answer. Placing a hand on the small of Olivia’s back, I guide her out of the church and to our car.

  The reception is being held at a local hotel about a mile down the road. We knew that it would be a long night, and being that there will be a wedding brunch tomorrow morning, we opted to stay here at the hotel for the night. While Olivia was doing wedding stuff, I checked us in, raided the minibar, and took
a nice nap. Did I feel guilty for lounging around while Olivia was busy? A little. Was it awesome? Totally.

  Even though I don’t know more than ten people at this thing, the reception is actually fun. The groomsmen coordinated a corny dance for the couple, which I’m sure someone recorded and will post on YouTube by the end of the night. The first dance as husband and wife is sweet, and I can’t wait to get on the dance floor with Olivia. I’m not a big dancer, but I’ll do whatever I can to be closer to this woman. Having her hands on me and her head on my chest makes me feel pretty damn special.

  Finally, the MC opens the dance floor to couples.

  “Would you do the honor of dancing with me?” I ask Olivia.

  Olivia beams. “I would love that. Thank you,” she replies as she takes a quick sip of ginger ale before taking my hand.

  I guide her out to the middle of the dance floor, swing her around, and then pull her tight to my chest. I kiss her forehead and exhale heavily. For the first time today, I start to relax.

  “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

  Olivia wraps her arms around my neck and smiles up at me. “You look very handsome tonight, Owen,” she says with a wink.

  I bend forward and nuzzle into her neck, whispering into her ear, “And you look like an angel, beautiful.”

  We move around the dance floor, cuddling against each other as we sway to the slow music. After a few songs, I notice Olivia covering her mouth in a yawn. She’s exhausted.

  I take her chin in my fingers and tilt her head up to look at me. “You look tired. You want to turn in?”

  “I feel like such a dud. It’s barely midnight and I’m ready to hit the hay. How pathetic is that?” she questions. “Do you mind if we call it a night?”

  “Aunt Edna might.” I purse my lips with fake concern.