by Zoe Norman
I go out into the waiting area at one point to update Simon and Reese and tell them to go home because I'm going to stay the night. They understand and offer to get me some coffee before they go. I thank them but decline, and with a hug and a kiss, they leave. After going back into the room, I settle myself in the reclining chair they have placed next to his bed for me. I am close enough to hold his hand and actually lean onto his bed beside him. I do this and close my eyes, drifting off.
I wake abruptly. I'm confused as I take in my surroundings in the soft light of dawn. I suddenly realize what's woken me up. Feeling a hand squeezing mine, I look up at Owen, whose eyes are still closed but it looks like he's trying desperately to open them.
I sit up, squeezing his hand back. “Owen? Baby?” I whisper quietly.
His eyes blink open and he turns his head to look at me. When his eyes focus, he smiles softly at me. “Hi,” he replies to me in a gravelly voice.
I return the smile. “Hi.”
Owen glances around the room, grimacing as he turns his head.
“Hey, careful. You had quite a fall yesterday.”
He moves his eye over to me, confused. “The balcony. It dropped,” he recalls, the accident coming back to him.
I nod. “Yeah, it did.”
“How did you… Why … You're here,” his voice strained
“Tanner called me. I came right away,” I said.
He is clearly perplexed by this information.
I take his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Owen look, I—”
“Shhh,” he says. “Olivia, you don't have to say anything.”
I shake my head vehemently. “Just listen to me for a second. I'll keep it brief.”
He nods and gives me a smile.
“I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I'm sorry I'm the reason we have both been so broken the last few months. I was terrified I would lose you. You had been distant for a few days and then she showed up and I just thought it was connected. I didn't want to get hurt, so I ran. I know it was wrong, but it's what I did.” I pause to let him absorb this.
“You didn't return my calls. I went to your apartment. I sent flowers. I tried to tell you…” he trails off. I see his eyes getting moist and it breaks my heart. Mine follow suit.
“Owen, I take responsibility for that. I knew if I talked to you I would crumble. I would falter. It's easier for me, wrong or right, to just cut myself off. So that's what I did. I'll never forgive myself for not believing you or for hurting you like that. I never will.” I put my head down and cry.
He strokes my hair. “Olivia,” he says quietly. “Olivia, look at me.”
I look up at him, our tear-filled eyes meeting. “I love you, Olivia.”
“Oh, Owen,” I choke out, “I love you too.” I stand and lean over the bed, kissing him softly on the lips.
“I should have told you a long time ago,” he admits, “I shouldn't have been so afraid to tell you or, more to the point, afraid of what I was feeling. You say you were worried I would leave you. Well, I felt the same.”
My eyes are full of tears and I feel them slide down my cheeks as I take in what he has said. I truly thought that he couldn't possibly love me. That all those feelings were only coming from me, and if I'm honest, maybe I wondered if he was capable of those feelings. I know already I have been skeptical that I was capable of those feelings. Yet here we are, expressing our love for one another, but more importantly, sharing that we have many of the same fears. It's a lot to process.
We sit like this for hours, talking, giving each other our honesty. Real honesty. We said, “I love you,” a million times, holding hands, stroking hair. We kissed briefly many times.
Owen's nurse came in and the doctor visited. Eventually he was able to sit up in his bed and eat something. He has a concussion and some cracked ribs, but other than some bruising and scratches, he is in good shape now. It is a blessing. One that I know we have to not take for granted. This accident brought us back together, and we have to read the sign for what it is. We both know that.
The next day, the doctor comes in and tells us that Owen can be discharged tomorrow. Most of his IVs and leads get removed too. We celebrate by having his boys from the firehouse bring him in a burger. He is famished, and I take this as a good sign. We joke for a time with the boys, but when Owen starts to look tired, I send them on their way.
As I go to get settled for the last time in my sleeping chair, Owen reaches over to me and takes my hand. “Climb into bed with me,” he commands.
I look out at the nurse's desk. “I don't think Nurse Jean would approve of that, baby.” I giggle nervously.
He smiles at me. “I'm not hooked up much anymore, so nothing can get tangled.” He pouts at me. “Please Olivia. I need this.”
The nurses have dimmed the lights for the night, and Nurse Jean is studiously working at her computer. She has come in less and less today, and I know she would only come in tonight to give him meds or check in if I hit the button.
“Oh screw it,” I say, and he beams.
I kick off my shoes as he pulls his blanket and sheets back. I slide in next to him and curl against him. This feels so good I could cry. So familiar, so perfect.
He kisses me on the top of the head and sighs. “I missed this so much, Liv,” Owen whispers.
“Mmmm,” I murmur back, not wanting to talk and break the moment.
“I love you, beautiful,” he whispers into my hair as he kisses me gently.
I look up at him. “I love you too,” I say quietly. Slipping my hand over his stomach under the sheets, I pull him close, resting my head on his chest. “Let's sleep, my love. You need your rest.”
EPILOGUE
Olivia
It's been a number of weeks since Owen's accident at work. Our relationship has rebounded from the time we were apart, and is that much stronger. I've stayed at his house every night, and the nightmares have come back with a vengeance. He still refuses to tell me the story behind them, but I'm patient and realize that he needs time to share that with me. At least he's opening up about this most recent trauma. He talks to me about his fear and lets me console him.
Today, we went for his physical therapy appointment, and we have just gotten back, ready to relax for the rest of the night. Owen is taking a shower and I am enjoying a quiet moment gazing out at the backyard on this unseasonably warm day while drinking a cup of coffee on the deck. I put up white fairy lights last week, and at dusk, they are stunning.
I don't hear him come up behind me, but I suddenly feel warm hands drift around me from behind, wrapping me tightly. I smile. I can smell him—yummy body wash and cologne. He nuzzles my neck and nibbles at my earlobe.
“Have I mentioned to you today how beautiful you are?” he hums quietly. It's not meant to be a come-on. He sounds so sincere when he says it.
“Mmmm, only once or twice,” I reply, “but I'm always happy to hear it again.” I let my head drop back to his shoulder as he kisses my neck.
“Have I mentioned to you today how much I love you?” he asks his voice dropping a bit.
“Yes, but I need to hear that again.”
He puts his mouth against my ear and whispers, “I. Love. You. Olivia.”
I turn in his arms and take his face in my hands. “I love you too, Owen.”
There is something different in his eyes. He looks incredibly sincere, almost desperate. I have a hard time reading him sometimes. Owen has always been a very guarded person with his feelings, and while he really is trying hard to open up for me, there are times when I can tell he's struggling with how to tell me how he feels. It's in our lovemaking that the majority of his emotion spills out, often leaving us breathless with the intensity of the passion that comes from it.
I wrap my arms around his neck and run my fingers into his hair as his hands slide down my backside, rubbing and cupping me. I encourage him down to lean towards me for a kiss. It starts innocently—no tongue, just our l
ips brushing. It's beautifully intimate. But he pulls me into him, pressing himself against me, pushing me against the deck railing, and deepening the kiss. He kisses me deeply, his tongue lapping into my mouth. It's passionate but slow. He's savoring me. He's telling me how he feels without using words.
He turns me and walks me back into the house. I tentatively step backward, with him guiding me, all the way into his bedroom, our lips never disconnecting. When we get in front of his bed, he shifts his hands under the fabric of the back of my shirt and over my skin, lifting it over my head. I do the same, helping him out of his shirt. We say nothing. There is nothing to say. We're going to make love. That's it. It's simple. He wants to show me some emotion, some feeling, something he can't say.
I unbutton his jeans as he undoes mine and we simultaneously push our jeans and underwear down until we're both kicking out of them. He undoes my bra and slowly pulls it off, bending over to take my nipple, which has become a hardened peak under his gaze and touch, into his warm mouth. He laves it with his tongue, sucking most of my breast into his mouth as he runs his hands over my body.
He turns as he's kissing me and sits on the bed, his back to the headboard. He pulls me onto his waiting lap, his erection between us, hard and heavy against his belly.
He takes my face in his hands. “I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it terrifies me. You could leave me and I don't think I'd survive it.” His words are so raw and real and painful. I feel the hurt others have inflicted on him coming through his words, and in this moment, I swear to myself that I will never hurt this man.
“I'm not going anywhere Owen. I'm here to stay. I promise you.”
He leans forward and kisses me, his lips coaxing, soft, warm. He tilts his head slightly to deepen the kiss, his hands going from my face, to my neck, my shoulders, my back. His lips urge mine to part, and I oblige, letting his tongue dip slightly into my mouth. My hands rest on his upper arms, which are firm and muscular. He makes me feel so safe, like nothing bad can get to me.
He intensifies our kiss and his hands travel down to my ass, kneading my soft flesh and gently moving me closer to his waiting erection. I lift slightly on my knees, seeking him before I let go of one arm and reach between us. His cock is huge, engorged, so ready for me that it twitches when I touch it. It arches up toward my touch, seeking me out, and I can't help but smile. I grasp him firmly and start to stroke him, an unnecessary act as he's harder than he has ever been with me. We kiss this entire time, never breaking contact, and I can feel my own arousal wetting the inside of my thighs, his lap.
I rub the head of his cock along my slit, getting him well lubricated before guiding him to my opening. He stops kissing me and looks me in the eye as he helps guide me onto him. He wants to watch me when he's entering me, and it is the closest I think I've ever felt to him. His eyes flutter closed for a second as I take all of him, and I lift up slightly and then push back down to ensure that I have him completed sheathed inside me. He runs his hands up and down my arms and looks down between us, where we are so intimately connected. I glance down to watch as well and then lift my head to catch his gaze yet again. His eyes hold such love, fear, and adoration.
I lift my hand and caress his cheek. “What are you thinking, baby? Tell me.” I whisper.
He takes a deep breath. “A million things…I'm thinking how unbelievable this feels, how unbelievable it feels every time. I'm thinking that I am overwhelmed by you in the best possible way. I'm thinking that I never want this to end. I'm thinking that I have gotten too used to waking up to you, falling asleep with you, coming home to you.”
I smile at him. His words are so touching and that much more significant to me because he's telling me this while we are connected—physically and emotionally.
He mouths the word, “Move,” to me before continuing, and I oblige, starting to lift and lower myself slowly on him. Uh god, it feels so fucking fantastic.
He closes his eyes. “I'm thinking that I see my future with you. I'm thinking that terrifies me because I swore I wouldn't go down that road again, let myself want someone like that again. I'm thinking though that you might be worth it because I love you in a different way than I've ever loved anyone before. Ugh… Jesus, baby, that feels so good.”
He puts his hands on my hips and helps me rise and fall, his hips lifting to meet mine, grinding into me.
“Owen…” My head falls back. I am overwhelmed by what he's saying, deeply affected by how much he stretches and fills me. He is so deep like this that he occasionally hits my cervix, which hurts but is almost a welcome pain amidst all the pleasure.
I take in his face. He has a very slight smile on his lips. He looks so gorgeous. “I love you so much. I was sure I didn't want anything like this again. But you're right. This isn't like the things we've lost, like the things that have hurt us in the past. It's so much more. I want you to know everything about me. I want to wake up to you every morning. I want to make you coffee while you get ready for work. I want to come home to you.”
He smiles at me sweetly, seeming almost…relieved that I have the same feelings, share the same sentiment.
His fingers push into my hips and he starts to move me faster. “Then let's do it. Let's take the next step.”
My stomach flips. “Next step?” I ask tentatively, starting to become breathless from our lovemaking.
“Yes. Move in with me,” he says, his eyes soft, telling me he's nervous but determined. “Help make this house a home.”
I grin from ear to ear, instantly relieved. I was hoping he'd ask me that. “Yes...yes…yes…” I groan, leaning forward to kiss him passionately pulling his hair to tilt his head up to meet mine.
He grabs my ass, and before I know it, I'm underneath him. He rises up on his knees and positions my legs on his shoulders. I love this position with him. He is so big that he hits my G-spot over and over and over again, and it's pure ecstasy. I won't last long like this, but neither will he.
“God, baby… You are everything a man could ever want. You're so fucking beautiful. You're so smart. You're insanely sexy.”
I mewl from pleasure from the way he's fucking me and the words he's saying. I arch my back. “Baby…” I moan. “Don't stop. Please don't stop…”
“Come on, Liv. Come for me. I want to feel you, hear you. Look at me…” He grabs hold of my ankles and starts to really move. It's not as punishing as it sometimes can be with him, but he's fucking me hard, and I love it.
“Ah…Owen…yes!” I yell. This may be the most intense orgasm I have ever felt. It's absolutely insane.
He grips me ass hard and pumps into me over and over. “Baby, come on. Scream for me. Let me hear you,” he begs as I scream his name and clench around him like a vise. “Oh fuck, Olivia…”
I feel him start to pulse inside me, and with two last thrusts, he stills completely, buried deep inside me. He kisses my ankle and falls forward, propping himself on his arms so he doesn't crush me. He slowly pulls out of me, wincing, and falls next to me.
We lie for a moment like this, quiet, catching our breaths, coming down from our intense orgasms. He turns his head to look at me, and sensing this, I turn too.
“What?” I ask.
He grins. “You said you'd move in. You're going to live with me. I can do that to you any time I want.”
I smile at him and chuckle. “It sounds like you want to hold me hostage.”
“I might,” he confirms, and we both fall into a fit of laughter. He leans up on an elbow and kisses me lightly.
“That was the most beautiful thing I've ever been part of. We just made love in every sense of the word. I hope you know how much that meant to me,” I whisper faintly before kissing him back and brushing his hair off his forehead.
“I know. It meant a lot to me too, Olivia.” He grabs hold of the duvet over us and slides me toward him, against his chest, curling around me. “I love you Liv,” he says quietly.
“I love you too, Owen.”
And I fall asleep in the arms of the man I love more than life itself, in the home I will now call mine.
THE END … for now
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Zoe Norman is the brainchild of Stephanie K. and Heidi H., two women with one very important thing in common—their love of good erotic romance novels. After a year of writing fanfiction and developing a swoon-worthy friendship from across the country, the decision was made to write their own novel.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to S.A. Wolfe. You are such an amazing author, you're books were an inspiration for us both, but your friendship and willingness to support us has been key in helping us get through the crazy self-publishing process. You didn't know us from Adam but when I reached out to you (okay, begged you for your ARC of Freedom) there was no hesitation in your willingness to help us and support our book. You shared EVERYTHING you know...all of which were things we didn't know! Thank you for being you....this book wouldn't have happened without you.
Thank you to Tessa Teevan! Tessa you have been such an amazing help to us. We are so thankful for all your support, all your recommendations. You're like our author big sister! You're also the author of our first real book review which set our hearts into the stratosphere. You have shown us how strong the sisterhood of "self-publishing women" can be - and we are eternally grateful for that. You have also inspired us with your work and your commitment to that one thing we both love...writing.