The Air He Breathes Novels & Stories

His breathing grew shallow, as though the air itself had become too heavy to draw into his lungs. His breath stiffens as I lower my voice and confirm his worst fear in a single word. “Rebecca.”

I whisper. “You hold your breath differently when you’re actually sleeping. Little catches every few seconds, like your body forgets it needs air and then remembers.” His arm tightens around me, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. “Right now you’re breathing too perfectly. Like you’re trying to convince me of something.” The observation sends butterflies scattering through my chest despite everything. He knows how I breathe when I sleep. He’s been paying attention to something that small, that intimate, that irrelevant to anyone who isn’t completely wrapped up in another person.

"I'm going to die a virgin, at the hands of the hottest guy I know. He let go of me, and I was finally able to breathe again. I coughed, adjusted to being able to breathe again. I have never before been so grateful for the ability to breathe. The air even felt different as it went into my lungs. I almost died,"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I screamed.

"Nose...breathe through your nose." He utters through strained groans, perhaps concerned by the whimpers that escape me. Hah…I am. The only reason I can’t breathe is his damned scent. I am drowning; my head is swirling, my lungs aching, my throat exhausted, and my mind enthralled because I adore witnessing this man desperate. The air that fills my lungs is heavy and saltwater scented, convincing my body that we are not in water doesn’t seem to work, so I bob faster, pressing my lips and tongue around his flesh as I suck him lightly. My hands reach for his hips for support.

he asks me, I slowly take a breath to test if I could actually breathe. When I am sure that I can breathe, I reply him, “I love it. This is crazy. I am breathing underwater. I am sure my family is worried and they will think you are trying to drown me.” he laughs and he pulls me into him. I turn around so that I am backing him and my back rest on his chest.

For one final time he bent down to consume her lips and blow air to her lungs once again, all the while praying to God to let her be okay. He jerked back when he finally earned a cough from her. "Grace! love?" She gasped for air not finding enough oxygen to reach her lungs as she broke into fits of coughs. He tapped her back lightly before letting her breathing get normal. Only if it could. Her gasps proved she was still finding it hard to breathe and the airflow into her lungs was still uneven.

He first heard the sound of heavy breathing and wondered who it was who would breathe so close to his ears. He realized that it was his own breathing when he observed it to be in rhythm with the movement of his chest. He forced more air in and felt the life-giving oxygen enter his lungs, then quickly expelled it when the air was spent. He wondered where he was and tried to lift his eyelids. The room that he saw in the dim light seemed familiar and he tried to see more of it by moving his eyes around. He saw light streaming in from the outline of the door and somehow expected a shadowy figure with red eyes emerge from the darkness. He waited, but no dark figure appeared.

I can’t breathe. I can’t… I can’t breathe. I willed my lungs to pull in air, but my body refused to obey. Panic clawed up my throat, sharp and merciless. “Breathe,” he said coolly. “I can’t have you dying just yet.” The command sliced through me. My body reacted instantly, sucking in a deep, desperate breath. Air burned my lungs, and I doubled over as a violent cough tore through me. Clutching my chest, I forced myself upright and looked at him.

I know what this means the end is near. “Breathe in,” he murmurs, low, intimate. I obey. The air fills only the top of my lungs. He holds me there, and I want to panic, but I don’t. “And out.” As I exhale, his weight presses me down, coaxes the breath from my chest, leaving me hollow, empty.

Love can hit you when you least expect it. It could be a soft easy wind that caresses you and gets stronger over time till it absorbs into your body and heart. Other times it can hit you like a gale-force wind and take every breath you will ever have, and breathe life into the person who took it in the first place. Laken stole my breath. She was my gale-force wind, and I will gladly give her every breath I have just to keep her safe, alive, and mine. If I have to live without her then I don’t want my breath. I don’t want anything but her. I will go to hell and back to get her from the grips of death.