Just Breathe Trilogy Box Set (135 page)

“You can’t go in there,” I hear Anna say to someone as I’m finishing getting my dress on in the next room.

There’s a little bit of commotion from all the ladies with me and I can’t see or hear exactly what’s going on.

“Joe,” I hear Maggie say. “What do you think you’re doing. It’s bad luck . . . .”

“Since when do you think Emma or I believe in things like that?” Joe interrupts. “Besides, don’t worry. I won’t see her. I just want to talk to her for a second.”

Maggie darts back into the room where I am. “He wants to talk to you,” she shares as if I haven’t heard anything.

With a smile, knowing I need to hear his voice to calm my jitters, I reply, “That’s fine.”

“But . . .” Maggie starts to whine in protest.

“Close the door most of the way,” I instruct. He can talk to me without seeing me.

“Fine,” she huffs. “But if we end up running late . . . .”

“I know. I know,” I soothe. “I’ll take responsibility.”

“Good,” Maggie says with a pleased smile. “We’ll be just outside in the hall. Okay?”

“Maggie,” I giggle.

“Okay, fine,” she says. She takes my arm and leads me away from the door. “Don’t move,” she directs. Maggie disappears into the other room. “And, you. You better not peek, Joseph. I know you and I know you’ll try.”

“I won’t,” Joe defends. “I promise. Scout’s honor.”

I giggle, knowing Joe was never a scout.

“Do you want me to take him?” Maggie asks sweetly.

“No,” Joe politely refuses. “He misses his mommy.”

“Okay,” she confirms with her voice getting softer. “And, no peeking!”

“I promise,” Joe chuckles.

The sounds of fading commotion leave the room with nothing left but the faint sounds of my son cooing from behind the door.

“Emma,” Joe calls after a few seconds.

I take a few steps toward the door, pressing my forehead against it. My right hands slides around the edge of the door frame that is sticking out the majority of the way from the wall since it’s a sliding door. “Yeah,” I confirm weakly. “I’m here.”

“Hey, beautiful,” Joe greets, gliding his fingers over mine. “Where’s mommy? Where is she?”

I hear Joe Jr. babble a little and the warmth in my heart grows as I fight to keep myself from crying. I can’t believe that he’s already seven months and one week old.

“Hey, handsome,” I call. “Where’s my little guy?”

“Do you hear her?” Joe asks him. “Where is she?”

Joe Jr. babbles again.

“Look,” Joe says, letting go of my hand. “Look. Who’s hand is that?”

I wiggle my fingers as I say, “Hi, my love.”

Joe Jr. makes more noise as his tiny little fingers take ahold of mine.

“Hey,” I greet. “Mommy’s right here. Can you find me?”

“Where is she?” Joe coaxes. “Oh. Did you see her?”

A second shadow blocks a portion of the opening in between the door and the wall and then disappears.

“Where is she?” Joe asks again. “Where’s mommy?”

Joe Jr. babbles as his shadow returns and suddenly we make eye contact.

“Oh. Did you see her?” Joe asks. “Where’s mommy?”

“Can you find me, handsome?” I call, excited to see his happy face again. “Where am I? Where’s mommy?”

“Oh. There she is,” Joe answers when my son and I see each other again.

“Da da da da,” Joe Jr. calls.

“No,” I giggle. “I’m mama, remember?”

“Da da da da da,” he repeats.

I can’t help but laugh.

“Hey, beautiful,” Joe calls as he returns his fingers to mine. They dance together as our son’s hand gets a hold too.

“Hey, you,” I return, fighting to remain composed. “Checking to make sure I showed up today? Huh?”

“No,” Joe denies.

“Joseph?” I call questioningly.

“Okay,” he sighs. “Maybe a little.”

“I don’t blame you,” I tease. “You know . . . just in case.”

“I knew you wouldn’t leave,” Joe soothes. “I . . . we just wanted to hear your voice beforehand.”

“I’m glad you guys came,” I reply. “Maggie’s going to yell at you about my makeup. But, I’m glad you came. And, I’m glad you brought him with you.”

“Just ten minutes,” Joe reveals.

“The longest ten minutes of my life,” I say with truth, but try to brush off the myriad of emotions swirling through me.

“Not here fast enough,” Joe enforces.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“I love you, beautiful,” Joe says sweetly. “We love you.”

“I love you too,” I reply. “Both of you.”

“I guess we should go,” he says reluctantly. “You know . . . or else Maggie will have my head. She’s like the bridesmaid Nazi.”

“Yeah,” I agree with a giggle. “She means well, though.”

“I know,” Joe replies. “It’s funny and scary at the same time.”

I laugh a little harder.

“See you in a few minutes. Okay, beautiful,” Joe checks.

“Yes,” I confirm. “Just a few minutes.”

Joe reluctantly peels his fingers away from mine, being forced to leave the room when I hear Maggie coming back in from behind the door. She directs him to leave and has the rest of the girls assist me with getting my veil on.

“Ready?” Mr. Nelson checks as we round the last corner of the walkway that leads to the guests waiting for me to arrive.

“Yes,” I agree.

“Your mom and dad would be so proud of you,” Mr. Nelson declares.

“You’re going to make me cry again,” I remind. “Remember, Maggie will kill anyone who messes up my makeup.”

Mr. Nelson kisses my cheek. “Don’t care. It’s worth it because it’s the truth. You’ve come a long way, darling. Aside from your parents, Beatrice and I are proud of you. All of your family out there is proud of you. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman . . . and now mother.”

“Thank you,” I return, fighting back tears.

“We better hurry. Joe might be on me too if I take too long to get you to him,” Mr. Nelson jokes.

“Okay,” I giggle. “Lead the way.”

My eyes stay on the path as we head toward the guests out on the little patio area of Queen Emma’s Summer Palace. Confident in my footing, my eyes lift and immediately find Joe, my Joe, holding our son. He smiles, but there are also tears in his eyes which are starting to make me cry too. The people standing on either side of the isle blur as my eyes stay focused on my son and my soon-to-be husband. Who knew it would take just over two years from the day I met him that my life would be turned upside down and marrying the love of my life?

Joe gently bounces Joe Jr. in his arms, coaxing him to find me in the crowd of people before them as I inch closer. When my feet hit the first step, my son spots me and his smile grows. Mr. Nelson hands me off to Joe and I lean in kissing my son before turning to face the priest.

“You ready,
Kitten
?” Jared asks from my left in a whisper.

I smile my reply.

Maggie and I make eye contact, then my eyes find Nathan’s.

I turn to face the small crowd behind us and my attention is drawn to Leslie, Brittany, Martin, Celia, Maggie’s and Nathan’s family and then Joe’s.

“You ready, Emma?” the priest inquires, drawing my attention.

“Yes,” I confirm eagerly.

“There’s no way you can run now,” Joe teases in my ear.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I return with a smile.

“Good,” Joe states with a widening grin. “Hunter and Taylor were instructed to tackle you to the ground if you did try to run.”

“Seriously?” I check with a giggle.

“Just a little bit,” Joe laughs. “I was ninety-nine percent certain you would stay.”

“You had one percent doubt in me?” I question, trying to present mock hurt feelings.

“Okay,” Joe corrects. “Maybe a half of a percent.”

“You’re going to get it for that?” I goad.

“Good,” Joe replies with a devious smile. “I’ve packed all of our
toys
for the trip just in case.”

“Seriously?” I question. “You want to tell me that with a priest standing right in front of us?”

“Does it make you wet just thinking about it?” Joe pries amusingly.

Taking a deep breath, I say, “A little. Yes.”

“Good,” Joe chuckles. “Besides, you like it, Mrs. Covelli.”

“I’m not Mrs. Covelli, yet,” I remind.

Joe chuckles. “You will be soon enough, beautiful.”

My life is still a little surreal to me, even with it being the third week of my honeymoon. I’ve always been happy, but I’m beyond happy since my best friend, Emma, is now my wife, and our beautiful baby boy just turned eight months old today.

I’m so excited to be sharing my life with her, with them, and we’ve got plenty of money to create the life that we want. The money is just a tool, a resource, to aid in our enjoyment of our time together. It doesn’t matter how much we have. It could all be gone tomorrow and it wouldn’t bother me. Between the two of us, Emma and I could easily make more if we wanted — if we needed.

Our son is asleep in my arms as I carry him back to our suite in the hotel. We just spent a few hours on a private yacht I rented for the early morning — it was Joe Jr.’s first time on a boat. Surprisingly, he handled it pretty well — he didn’t get sea sick at all. Not wanting to disturb him, I lay down on the bed with him on my chest. I breathe in his sweet smell, always enjoying his baby fresh scent — it’s serenely peaceful next to the smell of my wife — the smell of home. Sadie and Jasper curl up next to me on the bed as we wait for Emma to join us.

I watch Emma putter around the room, trying to get things settled before Joe Jr. wakes up hungry. The ring on her finger catches my eye and I can’t help but smile — I am home. She is my home. Our son is my home.

“You know he’s going to wake up soon,” I remind her.

“I know,” she answers.

“Emma,” I call.

“Hmm,” she replies, not looking at me.

“Beautiful,” I say.

“What do you want?” she questions with a grin, sliding onto the bed.

“What do you mean?” I inquire.

“You always want something when you call me that with the sexy voice,” she says playfully.

“I don’t always want something,” I challenge.

“Yes, you do,” Emma says, crawling over the dogs and kneeling over my body. She kisses Joe Jr. on the top of his head before offering her lips to me.

God, she still tastes as good as the first time I kissed her. I remember it as if it happened yesterday.

“So?” she questions. “What did you want?” Her lips move from mine, trailing up my jaw all the way to my ear.

“I just wanted to enjoy the moment with you before he wakes,” I answer.

Her sweet lips play with mine and a memory comes to mind, causing me to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, keeping her mouth stuck to my skin.

“Just remembering something,” I admit, tasting as much of her as I can.

“What?” she searches.

“The first time I saw you naked,” I reveal.

Emma giggles as her teeth nip my ear. “The first night you manipulated my body . . . better than any man ever did,” she comments.

“I’m not referring to the first time we had sex,” I share with a grin.

“That’s the first time you saw me naked,” she states, looking at me.

“No, it wasn’t,” I laugh.

“When
did
you first see me naked then?”

My grin widens at the idea that she doesn’t remember. “In Hawaii,” I present.

“When did you . . . oh,” she replies, as the realization enters her head. “You said you weren’t peeking.”

“I lied,” I reply, enjoying her reaction.

Emma doesn’t say anything but seems pleased with my admittance.

“The night Henry proposed to Maggie and you drank more than you should have,” I remind.

“Yeah,” she says, trying to dismiss the guilt she used to harbor for how she felt that night, seeing her best friend getting engaged. “So, what exactly happened?”

“You don’t remember?” I ask.

“Some of it,” she confesses.

“Do you remember kissing me?” I explore.

Emma stays silent, but her smile gives it away that she does remember that fact.

“You asked me to help with the zipper on your dress, so I did. You kissed me while we stood in the bathroom. I moved to the bedroom, waiting for you to finish getting ready,” I explain, omitting certain details, like the challenge to keep myself composed and not take her right then and there. “You came out of the bathroom and stood in front of the closet, removed your dress and then your bra and panties like you completely forgot I was there. You turned to the dresser and pulled out . . .” my voice falters a second at the memory as a shiver spreads across my body. “A white tank top and a matching pair of shorts. At least I think they were shorts, but half of your ass cheeks hung out. Your outfit was skin tight and all I wanted to do was rip them off of you.”

“You and your need to rip things off of my body,” she muses.

“You like it too,” I remind.

“Why didn’t you rip them off?” she asks, proud that she had, and still has that affect on me.

“You were drunk, remember?” I ask, surprised she forgot that important fact.

“So,” she giggles.

“So, my mother raised gentlemen. Though I can’t say all of my brothers have adhered to that mentality,” I remind. “Plus, if I was going to have my way with you, I wanted you to remember every single second of it.”

“A gentleman knows when not to be a gentleman in the bedroom,” she teases.

“I think we’ve already established that, beautiful,” I comment. “Or, do I need to spank you in order for you to remember?”

“It’s been a while . . . I might need a reminder,” Emma muses.

“Tonight, beautiful,” I confirm.

“I’m going to hold you to it,” she establishes.

“I hope you do,” I say.

“So . . . once I had my tight pajamas on, what happened?” she searches.

“You turned around and saw me sitting on the bed and laughed, confirming you forgot I was there. Then, you suddenly sat on my lap with your legs hanging to one side. You guided my face to look at you and then you kissed me again,” I share.

“Did you kiss me back?”

“Yes,” I laugh, not sure if she seriously doesn’t remember or is just playing me. “You got more comfortable, straddling me, inching closer as your tongue dove deeper into my mouth.”

The first time I kissed Emma it was on our first date. I thought she would have stopped me, but she didn’t. It was the first time I got to taste her — I needed, wanted more. Despite the fact that she was intoxicated that first night in Hawaii, Emma opened herself to me more than she, I think, had intended or expected. The night she was drunk in Hawaii was the second time we kissed. The rest of our vacation in Hawaii, each time we kissed, Emma’s lips told me so much. I found out that she wanted more, she wanted me — she had held back from the first time our lips connected.

“And . . . ?” she asks.

“And, as you slid your body closer, my hands held your legs to stop you from coming all the way. I looked away and said we should get you to bed.” I laugh. “You were so upset when you got under the blankets and found out that I wasn’t joining you.”

“You
are
a tease,” she charges.

“Only for you, Mrs. Covelli,” I reveal.

Emma’s cheeks redden. “I remember being disappointed that you weren’t joining me,” she says. “And, I remember you coming in after I had the dream . . . asking you to stay with me.”

“I hope I’ve made up for it ever since,” I reply.

“Definitely,” she confirms. “And . . .” Emma gives me one of her wicked grins that includes biting her lip as she nods.

I love it when she looks at me like this — I know she’s up to something.

“What?” I ask.

“And, I remember that whole night,” she reveals.

“Really?”

“Mmm hmm,” she verifies. “I just wanted to hear you describe it.” Her hands reach down and unzip my shorts.

“What are you doing?” I ask timidly.

“Shh,” she directs.

“Emma, don’t,” I scold nervously. “He’s going to wake up.”

“Then, we better hurry,” she replies, lowering her head before I get the chance to stop her.

In a single second, she’s got my cock stuffed into her mouth. My eyes flutter and I do my best to curb any noises from escaping my mouth so I don’t wake our son. By the third time she slides her warm, wet mouth down my shaft I’m completely hard.

“Emma,” I groan.

“What?” she answers deviously, continuing with her pursuit.

“He’s . . .” my voice falters as she sucks me off.

“So what if he wakes,” she presents, sucking the tip of my penis in just the way that I like. “He’s eight months.”

“It’s . . . weird,” I grunt.

“No weirder than all the times we had sex with him in my belly,” she mentions, resuming her task.

With minimal effort, my wife continues to use her mouth to pleasure me, rendering me incapacitated to any reason or logic. I manage to shift our son in my arms enough to allow my right arm to be free. Reaching for her cheek, I cup her face, keeping her hair out of the way until she makes me cum.

“See,” Emma whispers with a gloating smile. She sits up and leans forward, allowing me to kiss her. “He didn’t wake.”

Pulling her closer, my tongue reaches into her mouth. “You’re in trouble for that.”

Emma giggles as she zips up my pants. “Good thing you don’t really like to wear underwear when it’s hot. Easy access for me.” She moves to the bathroom just out of view.

“What about you?” I ask, eager to return the gesture.

“I’m sure you’ll take good care of me later with my punishment,” she answers wickedly. Emma comes back to the bedroom and joins me on the bed. “But, that will have to wait. He’s almost awake.”

“How can you tell?” I ask.

“The way he breathes,” Emma replies. “Just like his daddy.”

We lay together on the bed for at least five minutes as Joe Jr. stirs. As always, I excitedly watch her breastfeed him, gliding my finger across his cheek. She’s already weening him from breast milk as he’s starting to prefer foods and is teething, but this should tide him over until dinner. I selfishly hope he doesn’t stop for another couple of months — the taste of her milk is arousing, especially when we’re in the middle of having sex.

“I love you,” I say.

Emma pauses for a second, offering her lips. “I love you,” she hums, keeping her mouth within reach.

My body tingles every time she says those three specific words to me.

As I bask in the moment, my mind runs to the memory of when I first met Emma. A primal need surged through me, wanting to take her, have her right then and there, not caring who was around — I’ve never felt that with any woman before. It took me a second or two to compose myself. Then, she smiled and my world completely changed. Her smile — it wasn’t meant for me, I know that. Jared had said something into her ear, eliciting her full, luscious lips to curl. As soon as she saw me watching, her grin quickly faded.

“Emma?” I say.

“Yeah,” she replies.

“What was it that Jared said to you?” I inquire.

“What? When?”

“When we first met . . . outside the library,” I clarify.

“What do you mean?” she searches.

“He whispered something into your ear that made you smile, and when you noticed that I saw you smiling, you stopped,” I expound.

Emma giggles. “Jared was asking me if I thought you were gay.”

“Really?!”

“Jared’s always had bad
gay-dar
,” she replies. “He thought you were cute and was hoping for a chance. I told him you were definitely not gay.”

“What made you stop smiling?” I ask.

“Why?”

“Just curious,” I admit.

“You.” She bites her lip again.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I had a dirty thought and when I saw you looking at me, I had to cover for it,” she reveals.

“What kind of a dirty thought?” I inquire, eager to know she felt the same way as me.

“Dirty,” she says with a flirtatious tone.

“I wanted to have my way with you right there, not caring who watched,” I announce.

Her grin widens, pleased with my sharing. “I wanted to break into the library and fuck you on either the main desk or against some shelves,” she shares.

“Have you ever done it in a library?” I ask.

“No,” she laughs.

“Looks like we’ll need to find one sometime,” I declare. “Another first to our list.”

“I’m a mother,” Emma challenges. “I can’t be doing things like that.”

“But, you can suck me off while I hold our sleeping son?” I return with a raised brow.

“That’s different,” she comments.

“How so?” I ask with a chuckle.

“We’re in a private setting,” she states.

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” I remind.

Neither of us says anything else about the idea, knowing by the looks we’re exchanging that we will one day have sex in a public library — even if I have to pay to have access after hours. It’s become our thing now, to have lists, and one of those lists has our fantasies on them — ones we both agree to make happen.

“When did you know?” she asks.

“Know what?”

“That you wanted me . . . more than just sex?” she expands.

“The first night we shared a bed,” I admit.

She eyes me. “At Nathan’s?” Emma props Joe Jr. up since he just finished feeding.

I take Joe Jr., offering to burp him as she adjusts her bathing suit top. “Yes,” I confirm. “I think it was before then, but that morning when we woke up together, with you in my arms, I knew.”

My wife’s mouth tucks to the right side of her face — I still can’t believe that she’s my wife.

“What about you? When did you know?” I seek, snuggling into her and Joe Jr. more.

Her face softens and I can tell she’s searching for the right words to express herself which is not easy for her, but she’s getting better — at least I can gauge her emotions by her facial expressions. I sit patiently, waiting for her response.

“The morning after the wedding. Maggie’s wedding,” she reveals. Her cheeks redden.

I purposefully don’t say anything, aware that if I wait long enough, she’ll keep talking.

“I didn’t realize it until Connecticut . . . it wasn’t until then that I realized how I really felt . . . making you upset a second time when I left your mother’s over the picture. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, beautiful,” I soothe. “You’re here with me now and that’s all that matters.”