Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2)

by Zoe Norman

  We walk over to our table and have a seat while the song plays out. In the meantime, a waitress comes over, preparing to hand us each a flute of champagne. As we sit down, we take our glasses, only to be met almost instantly with the sound of people tapping their glasses, expecting us to kiss. Owen wastes no time and drags me to him, giving me a passionate kiss that for sure isn’t for public viewing. The crowd roars with approval and there are a series of catcalls coming from the “friend” table, which includes Owen’s TOM boys and potentially even louder, Charley.

  The announcer calls over the loud speaker that it’s time for our dance, and Owen takes me by the hand and walks me out to the dance floor. The first note of our song, “How Long Will I Love You” by Ellie Goulding, starts, and I tear up. When I suggested the song, Owen fell in love with it and has clearly memorized the words. The whole time we dance, he sings them to me, tears glistening in his eyes.

  We finish our dance with a deep kiss, and the father/bride dance is announced. I wait as I watch my father walk toward me on the dance floor, his hand patting Owen on the shoulder as he comes to take over the dance from my husband. It is a poignant moment for me, watching these two men who mean so very much to me.

  Twenty minutes or so later, we are done with dances and it’s time for dinner. As I make my way to the dinner table I realize that I’m still in my gown. I purchased a second dress for the reception, something shorter, easier to dance in, and frankly super sexy. I bought it with both my comfort, and Owen in mind, knowing that this dress and high heels will have him straining just about everywhere for the rest of the night. Just thinking about his reaction has me wanting to finish what we were trying to start earlier.

  I pull him down to me so I can whisper in his ear. “I have to go change into my reception dress. Come with me?”

  He looks down at me with a smirk and winks. “Are you kidding? I want to devour you right now.” Without excusing himself, he grabs my hand and drags me toward the house.

  We aren’t even to the opening at the side of the tent when I hear Owen’s mother.

  “Love, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but there seems to be a problem with the food. Can one of you help out?”

  Owen and I look at each and sigh. Diverted again.

  “Go in and change. I’ve got this, baby,” he says with a groan.

  “Okay…husband,” I say reaching up for a quick kiss. When I do, I whisper in his ear, “Try again later?”

  He grins and turns his head to whisper back, “Count on it, Mrs. Maxwell.”

  I scamper up to the house to change my dress.

  The dress is champagne-colored satin. It’s a thin material and has spaghetti straps, hitting mid-thigh. It leaves almost nothing to the imagination and is reminiscent of a negligee. My father is going to shit himself, and my husband may come in his pants. To go with it, I splurged on a pair of champagne, silk Louboutin sandals. They’re fucking hot. I’m fucking hot.

  I leave my hair up and freshen up my makeup before returning to the tent.

  “For the third time, Janet, I don’t care how it happened that you’ve come up short on the number of filet mignons available for our guests. I know my buddies will gladly switch to the chicken-whatever. You can use mine and Olivia’s too and our siblings, if you need to. That’s potentially ten or more—”

  “Cordon Bleu,” Chef Janet interjects.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Cordon Bleu. I’ve made Chicken Cordon Bleu, not chicken-whatever,” she grunts.

  “It’s not filet mignon. That’s all I know. Listen,” I continue, unfazed, “we’ll order pizza if we have to. Really. I don’t care. It’s not the end—” I turn mute.

  In my line of vision, I see Olivia enter the tent. She was stunningly gorgeous in her wedding dress, but this... This little number is fucking sexy as hell.

  “Whoa…” I breathe out in a huff and run my fingers through my hair, losing all train of thought. I’m a mixture of completely and utterly turned on (granted, that’s a nearly constant state for me) and protective of her knowing that guests are getting an eyeful of my precious gift. I know she picked that dress out with me in mind and what it would do to me. It’s doing something to me, all right.

  “Owen? The food?” Janet asks, bringing me out of my spell.

  “Make it work, Janet,” I say, not taking my eyes off Olivia. Finally, turning back to the chef, I continue. “I just found you ten people who will take the chicken if needed. It’s up to you to figure out the rest. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need my wife. Excuse me, ladies,” I say, interrupting the gaggle of women surrounding Olivia.

  Olivia’s friends turn toward me and giggle or fiddle with their hair nervously, but they step aside, clearing a direct path to my obsession.

  “Hello, wife,” I coo as I rub my nose against Olivia’s and wrap my arms around her waist, clasping my hands at the small of her back.

  “Hello, husband. Gotta say, it feels pretty amazing to be saying that to you.” Olivia smiles.

  “It feels pretty fucking amazing to hear it coming from your lips.” I tilt my head and softly kiss her cheek and down her neck. “Speaking of coming, I was so looking forward to helping you take off your wedding dress. I guess that fantasy will have to happen another night.”

  “Oh? Why is that? You don’t want to help me out of this one?” She stands back and sweeps a hand down her body.

  I quickly pull her back to my chest, laughing. “No. This one I may ask you to leave on. You look fucking hot in this dress. I’m so conflicted. I don’t know if I should clear the table to take you right here or beg you to put more clothes on. You can feel what you’re doing to me.” I drag her close to me, every part of our bodies touching.

  “Seems that you have a pretty big situation there, Mr. Maxwell.” Olivia smirks, feeling my hardness pressed against her stomach.

  “I do, indeed. Something only the missus can help me with. Think anyone would notice if we slipped away for twenty minutes? I’m desperate for you. I want to hear—”

  “Ladies and gentleman,” the MC’s voice booms through the speakers, “if you’d kindly take your assigned seats, dinner is about to be served.”

  “I can’t catch a break here!” I chuckle into Olivia’s neck.

  Once again, the glasses start to sing as guests tap them, encouraging us to kiss. We both turn to the crowd, which is now watching us canoodle in the corner of the tent, and smile—first at each other and then toward the guests. Taking my cue, I wrap my arms around Olivia and capture her mouth in a soft, passionate kiss before dipping her back and turning it into something a bit rougher and lust filled. As I stand her on her feet and the guests applaud our mini make-out session, I press my cheek to hers.

  “I’m crazy about you, Olivia Maxwell. I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby. So much.” She cups my face and runs the pad of her thumb across my lips, wiping her lipstick off.

  During dinner, we chat with our closest friends, all of whom are sitting with us, and then slowly make our way from table to table, thanking our friends and family for coming to celebrate with us tonight. Many of the people on Olivia’s side say that I am a very lucky man, and all reiterated how wonderful a woman my bride is.

  “Trust me. I know that I married up,” I tell them sincerely.

  Travis, Marc, and Charley all make touching speeches—covering everything from how Olivia and I pretty much ditched them the weekend we were getting to know each other in Seattle to the moments when each of us knew that what we had was special, something real, something incredible. The guys reminisce about our travels together and, thankfully, keep them family friendly so as not to embarrass me too much. Charley shares a few college-days stories about Olivia, and this is the first time I hear about her streaking around her sorority house in her bra and panties. As each of them speaks, Olivia and I hold hands and squeeze each other at all the pertinent parts. We kiss when things get personal about our relationship and laugh together at the embarra
ssing stories.

  “I’d like to say a few words.” I stand from the table and clear my throat. The room gets quiet and the emcee hands me a microphone. “I said a lot earlier, so I’ll keep this short.” A collective chuckle stirs the crowd. I take Olivia’s hand and help her to stand beside me. “Olivia, this has to be the third best day of my life. The best day will always be the day I met you, and the second being the birth of our amazing son, Drew. You know, I feel like everything I’ve done in my life—all the choices, the heartaches, and even the regrets—have led me to you. When you’re with me, everything that has happened in the past seems worth it, because if I had done one thing differently, I might never have met you. You are my bucket list. Everything I never thought I’d have, I have in you. You will forever be my always.” I bring Olivia’s left hand to my mouth and kiss my ring on her finger. “I love you, Liv.”

  After the meal is finished and the tables are cleared, the emcee invites the guests to the dance floor as Ray LaMontagne’s “You Are the Best Thing” begins to play.

  I turn to Olivia and grin widely. “Come on, Mrs. Maxwell. This song is a must.”

  Olivia laughs as I pull her onto the dance floor and into my arms.

  Dancing close together, I sing in her ear. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.” It’s funny how words of a certain song can say exactly the perfect thing.

  The song ends too quickly, and as I begin to lead Olivia back to our seats, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning, I see Travis waiting patiently with a big smile on his face.

  “It’s time she cheated on you with me. May I have this dance, Olivia?” he asks, taking a low bow.

  Olivia bows in kind. I chuckle and pat my best friend on the back as he takes my bride for a spin on the dance floor.

  The rest of the night goes about the same. We dance with each other and our friends, and on every occasion possible, we steal kisses and Owen gropes me.

  The more he drinks, the more he gropes. At this point, I’m nervous to sit and leave a wet spot on the back of my dress. As the night wears on, our family starts to leave, and it’s mostly just friends left behind. The dancing and drinking continue, and as I sit at the table taking a break and surveying the crowd, I realize how lucky we are to have all of these people in our lives.

  Looking over the crowd at everyone, I see Owen standing at the bar, talking animatedly with a friend from college. Bryce? Bruce? I can’t remember his name. What I’m focused on is my husband. Wow. My husband. Did I ever think there would be a day when I would call him that? Not really. Was there ever a day where I thought I would also call him the father of our child? Definitely not. Yet here he is. The best daddy I could ever want for our beautiful little boy, and for sure the man who is going to be the best husband in the world. With that, I stand and make my way toward him, ready to end our evening with a bang.

  I walk up to him and clearly catch his eye. He has his tux jacket off and his bowtie hanging around his neck, undone. His sleeves are rolled up, showing his strong biceps, the tattoo of Drew’s heartbeat prominently displayed. I’m going to fucking eat him alive.

  When I get closer, he looks up at me. “Mrs. Maxwell? Did you want something from me?” he asks seductively.

  His friend gives Owen a handshake and leaves us alone, surely understanding that something is about to go down.

  When I get to him, I grab the hair at the back of his head and roughly pull him down to me.

  “Get me the fuck out of here and take me before I combust next to the open bar.”

  Owen lets out a groan, takes my hand, and starts to drag me to the coat room. As we run past everyone, several people—including Janet the caterer—try and get his attention. Owen is having none of it.

  “Stay the fuck away from us for a half hour. If you so much as utter our name, I will fucking kill you,” he announces loudly to the crowd. With that, he picks me up by the waist and hoists me over his shoulder. Luckily, no one is walking toward us or they would be getting a lovely view of my ass. The crowd is laughing, and so are we.

  When we get to the coat room, Owen slams the door shut. He pushes the few jackets left as far as they will go to expose some wall space. Without a word, he unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and pushes them, along with his boxer briefs, down around his ankles. Before I know what’s happening, he has me pushed against the wall, his intrepid hands under my dress, pushing it up to my neck. He eases the cups of my bra down and, with no warning, sucking one nipple deep and painfully into his mouth.

  “Shit, baby!” I yelp. God that feels so freaking good.

  He laps at my nipple while he sucks, his other hand reaching into the crotch of my panties, clearly with the intention of ripping them off, but he pauses. He pulls away from me and looks down at me, his eyes heated.

  “Jesus Christ, Liv. Are you wet like this for me?”

  “Always,” I breathe out, breathless from his previous assault.

  He groans like a beast and quickly rips the flimsy material from me, throwing my destroyed panties to the ground and resuming sucking on my breasts. With my hand, I grasp him. Holy cow, he’s enormous. Harder than steel and pulsing in my hand. I swear I can feel the thick veins that course up and down his shaft transmitting the erratic beat of his heart. I am overwhelmed with sensation.

  Owen puts his hands under my knees and hoists me against the wall, holding me with his body. He reaches down, positions himself at my opening, and thrusts into me completely with one swift movement.

  “Oh holy mother of all fucking shit for hell. Goddamn,” he blurts out as he sheaths himself entirely.

  With a gasp I respond, “You sound possessed.”

  “I am possessed... Your pussy has possessed me.”

  With that, he starts to pound away. I don’t even bother trying to keep quiet. I can’t. Being fucked by your husband for the first time in a coat room up against the wall? Well, that, in my opinion, counts as a reason to let the world know that it’s happening. Besides, our parents went to bed already.

  I know it won’t take long for us because we’ve been anticipating this all day.

  “You. Are. My. Fucking. Wife. Now. Olivia,” he pants out as he strokes into me. “Holy. Fuck. Gonna. Come!”

  He reaches between us, first plucking my nipple hard, then finding my clit and pinching it. That’s all it takes—I shoot off into the stratosphere. Seconds later, he climaxes, filling me copiously with his come.

  We stand there, our breath heaving, for a moment before he pulls out. Reaching into his coat pocket he takes out the handkerchief with our initials on it that he kept with him today.

  “Um, I know this is beyond not classy, but you don’t have panties now and that’s a stainable dress, so you have to use this to wipe my come from your pussy.” He looks contrite at having left me in this position.

  I am dumbfounded. “That has to be the all-time dirtiest thing you have ever said to me. You will never top that.” I can’t stop giggling.

  I wipe myself up, and with a kiss on the forehead, Owen starts to turn toward the door. I grab his arm.

  “Owen? Wait a second.”

  He turns to look at me, his heart-stopping grin on his face. “Baby, I’m good but not that good. I don’t think I can go again, but I can tr—”

  I put my fingers over his mouth to shut him up.

  You see, all night, I have been keeping hold of his wedding present. Yes, I gave him a watch with an inscription that was meaningful to us. But that was just a physical thing. I wasn’t sure where I would give him this gift. I certainly didn’t think it would be in the fucking coat closet. But it does seem appropriate to do it after the first time we made love as a married couple. Because nowadays, even a fuck against a wall is making love.

  “I don’t want more of that, not now at least.” I give him a playful wink. “I have another wedding day gift for you. Do you want it now?”

  “Now?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Well, it just seems right to give it to
you now since we just made love for the first time.”

  Owen seems to be processing what I said, and a soft look comes across his face. Then one of worry. “Oh shit. Our first time married was in a coat room. Oh, goddamn, Liv. I am so fucking sorry. That’s not how that was supposed to happen! I mean, I just saw you and your tits, and you were all wet, and your fucking tits, baby. They’re, like, bigger in that bangin’ dress, and—”

  I stop him with my hand. “Okay, that’s not my point. Do you want my gift or not?”

  He nods excitedly. “I sure the hell do, baby. Lay it on me.” He holds his hands out expectantly, and I smile because he has no clue what’s coming.

  I take his hand and place it on my lower belly. He smiles and looks at me, still anticipating his gift. Suddenly, realization dawns on his face.

  “No way…” he says softly.

  Tears start to prick my eyes, and one escapes, sliding down my cheek.

  “No fucking way!” he shouts, this time with tears in his eyes as well.

  I nod imperceptibly. “Owen, we’re going to have another baby.”

  I hear a sob, and while I expected it to be from me, I realize that it’s coming from my husband. He leans down and scoops me into his arms, squeezing me and spinning me around. When I was pregnant with Drew, he never would have done this, but he’s an old pro now.

  He finally puts me down. “Our family is growing,” he says with reverence and an exaggerated sniffle.

  “Yes, we are,” I murmur as I lean in to kiss him.

  Owen grabs my wrist and drags me into the main room. “Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell are having a baby!”

  The crowd cheers, and the love in the room is palpable. In this moment, I think we both realize that true love and happy endings can exist.

  THE END

  A VERY SPECIAL THANK you to some important people that have helped to make this book a reality.

  Thank you to Robin Harper of Wicked by Design. Your ability to see our vision and willingness to listen to our concerns and tweaks make you an easy to choice for us to work with. You go above and beyond for us and we cannot thank you enough.