Unbroken

by Jasmine Carolina

  Lapping her up, I whisper, “Say the words, baby.”

  A tortured gasp escapes her. “I…can’t…Oh…”

  I stop once more as I feel her ready to explode, and she cries out in frustration. Yeah, I’m frustrated, too. We’re not going any further until I hear those precious words from her lips again.

  “Say the words, Sabrina,” I demand.

  “Please…Brody…” I watch her as realization dawns. She knows I won’t touch her again until she gives me what I’m asking for. She closes her eyes and gathers her wits about her. She props herself up on her elbows and glares up at me. “I…I love you, Brody. I always have. I always will.”

  Her vow to me is my complete undoing. Within seconds, my pants are off, and I’m baring all for her. Her leg still propped upon my shoulder, I enter her, filling her completely. She grabs onto me as I push into her slowly, rhythmically.

  I have never made love before. Not with anyone. Not even when I took her in her cousin’s bedroom, and I gave her everything she desired without hesitation.

  But this, this is lovemaking at its finest. I am exalted as she calls out my name, crying out, all but begging for her release. She is beautiful as she matches my rhythm thrust for thrust, both our bodies moving as one. When I feel her come to the edge again, I pull out of her.

  Sabrina shoves me backward until I collapse onto the bed of pillows and blankets and clothes beneath us. I struggle to a sitting position as she climbs atop my lap. I dig my fingers into the soft flesh on her hips. Both hands on my shoulders, we hold onto each other for dear life. I watch in reverence as she lowers herself onto me. She takes me in leisurely, and her eyes close, her mouth drops open, and her head falls back as she takes all of me. Her breathing becomes erratic and she moves atop me. Tiny whimpers erupt as we move together, and I feel my own release on the brink.

  My hands find her hair, and I cradle her head gently as the soft tresses slip through the spaces between my fingers. I kiss her, and I kiss her hard, seizing her mouth and leaving her gasping for air. She matches my enthusiasm and rides me harder, faster, and I’m sure I can take no more. But she is a goddess. She is taking what she needs and giving me what I need and there is no turning back now. She grabs hold of my hair, tugging gently as her pace quickens and I match it immediately. I release her mouth and shake my head.

  “I love you so much, Sabrina Matteo,” I whisper.

  A startled sob escapes her and I crush her body to mine as I grab her hips and flip us both so she is on her back and I am above her once more. Her nails dig into my skin and she cries my name as her orgasm builds.

  I feel her core clench around my dick and I pump into her fast, hard, unable to control the demon she’s unleashed in me. She grips me tighter, and her cries drown mine out. I release myself from her and shove myself back into her, quickening my rhythm. She moves with me, and I watch as she begins to come undone. On simultaneous moans of ecstasy, we come together.

  I collapse on top of her, but I catch most of my weight on my forearms, holding my upper body above her as I shower her with kisses.

  I whisper I love you with every kiss I plant against her delicate skin, and she whispers it back. As I inch my way down her body for round two, she continues to whisper the words I could spend the rest of my life hearing.

  As I bury myself in her heat, first with my fingers, then with my mouth, then filling her once more, her whispers turn to moans, moans turn to gasps, and gasps turn to screams, and by the time I’ve finished satisfying her once more, I’m pretty sure the entire world knows how much she loves me.

  When I’m done with her, she takes over, taking me into her mouth. Her being in control—and her making me lose mine—is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. My hands in her hair as she works her perfect mouth and talented tongue over my hard member, I let all my troubles slip away. And when she climbs on top of me and takes us both on the ride of our lives, I let the world know just how much I love her in return.

  We continue to love each other and prove just how much until finally, neither of us can take any more. She looks ready to collapse and me, well, I’ll never really have my fill of her. But when she tires, I concede, kissing her tenderly.

  When we are both sated, we collapse into each other’s arms and, a mess of limbs and sheets, we sleep.

  …

  I AM IN LOVE WITH HER.

  Now that I’ve admitted the words to her more than once, I can’t imagine how I’ve gone all this time without telling her. She will never go another day in this life having to wonder how I feel about her. I will tell her how much I love her. I will show her how much I love her.

  I watch her sleeping, stretched out on her stomach beside me, her head buried in the pillow that’s completely covered in her dark locks. My arm is draped around her and our hands are twined together as I press kiss after kiss to her back.

  I do not know what I did to deserve her. Where my past is tainted with anger, fear, and hatred, she is entirely composed of purity, innocence. Love. She is everything I wish I could be.

  I know she deserves only the best the world has to offer. She deserves nothing less than all of me, and that is exactly what she’ll get. I will never live to be the man she deserves, and I will never understand how divine interference, or fate, or destiny decided that I deserve her. She is the sunlight that burst through the darkness within me. And she isn’t just a piece of my heart.

  She is my heart. She’s my person. She’s my everything.

  I will never get enough of her.

  I graze my hand over her hair, grabbing a lock of it and tucking it behind her ear so I can see her face. She stirs, those gorgeous brown eyes of her fluttering open. She releases my hand and turns over so she’s facing me. She curls into a ball like the first night she slept in my bed, making herself as small as possible as I maneuver my body around hers. Her small hand comes up to cup the side of my face and her eyes shut slowly.

  With a yawn, she lies her head on the pillow beside mine, inches away from my face.

  “Creeper on line one,” she mutters, giving me a faint smile.

  “Not a creeper. Just a boy helplessly in love with his girl,” I respond.

  She opens her eyes and gazes at me lovingly. She runs her thumb over the stubble on my cheek and a crease forms in her brow. “Did you have a nightmare?”

  I love how worried she gets about me. But I really love that wrinkle in her brow when she does. I shake my head at her, and she narrows her eyes as if to say, You’d better be telling me the truth.

  “I didn’t have a nightmare,” I assure her. “I just can’t sleep, but not for the reason you think. I keep thinking this is a dream I’m having, and you’re not really here and you don’t really love me and we didn’t just have the best sex I’ve ever had in my life and I’m going to wake up cold and scared and alone.”

  When I see the tears pool in her eyes, I immediately regret the words I’ve just said. I hate seeing her cry, and I hate being the cause of her tears. It breaks my heart, especially when I don’t know if I’m breaking hers.

  “Shit. Dove, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “Shut up,” she whispers, fully awake and alert now, as she presses a finger to my lips. She grabs my hand and plants it on her chest, and I inhale sharply. Her heart is beating a million miles a minute and she looks hopeful and sad and I don’t know how that’s possible. “Do you feel that?” When I nod, she smiles. “That’s for you. Only for you, babe. I love you. I really love you, with every piece of me, even the broken ones. I know you spent the better part of your life thinking no one could possibly love you. But that’s just not true. I loved you before I knew you. I loved you since you said hello and held the door for me, and every day since. You think you have to hide yourself, and you have to hide your heart, but you don’t. I see you, Brody. I see your scars and the pieces of you with the jagged edges that you think couldn’t possibly fit anywhere and the parts of yourself that you try to keep hid
den from the rest of the world. I see it all, and those pieces you think fit nowhere? They do fit somewhere, babe. They fit with me. You fit with me. You’re my perfect match, Brody Durham.” I inhale sharply, and she runs her thumb over my lips. “You told me recently that my tattoo was a lovely sentiment, but my wings are not broken. And neither am I. You told me I wasn’t broken at all. Well, back at you, baby. Because neither are you.”

  I shake my head. I can’t bear to hear this. I don’t want to hear this.

  “Sabrina—”

  “No. Don’t try to argue with me on this. I love you. And I’m not going anywhere, you stupid, stubborn, infuriating, amazing, handsome, strong, unbroken boy. Someday, I’m going to need you to start believing that.”

  I nod, pinching the bridge of my nose as my emotions threaten to get the best of me again.

  “I’ll work on that. I promise.”

  “Good,” she says.

  She closes her eyes, and I run my hand over her hair once more. She sighs, and she shakes her head.

  “Brody?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’ll never know if this is just a dream if you never take your creeper ass to sleep.”

  I chuckle softy.

  “Smart ass.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Damn, I love this girl.

  TWENTY SIX

  WE ARE HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATES.

  It’s surreal. We’re high school graduates!

  Everything for the both of us is falling into place. We both start college at UC Riverside in the fall, and my parents have offered to keep Dalis and Cason in the house with them. I know Brody had a hard time agreeing to that one, but I think he underestimates the power that Durham blood has over the Matteo family. When we move out next month—into our own apartment off-campus, no less—Cason will take Brody’s old bedroom and Bianca will take mine, while Dalis moves in with Grace.

  Today, though, we’re not really thinking about the future. We’re thinking about today, living in the moment.

  I hate that I had to miss his graduation. Although we both go to Valley schools, my graduation was immediately after his, and they scheduled a last minute graduation practice ahead of the ceremony. So didn’t get to watch the man I love walk the stage, but my family was there, and they recorded everything for me. He rushed over immediately to be on time for my graduation. I saw him the minute he made his way up the bleachers. He still had his cap and gown on, and he waved at me from the stands. The smile could not be wiped off my face.

  My graduation was a beautiful ceremony, and I loved being able to see all my family there. But mostly, I loved being able to leap into Brody’s arms afterward and kiss him.

  I got him a graduation present, and I’m going to give it to him when we come home from our graduation party at the lake house.

  Everyone is here: Nickayla, her twin, Michele, Hayden, Colin, and all the families. I’ve never seen so many people in one place before without them fighting. I’m so happy about being here and surrounded by so many people, I don’t even care that Michele is here.

  The first thing Brody does when we get here is drag me inside to introduce me to Jude and Alicia Quinn, Nickayla’s parents.

  They’re sitting at an umbrella-covered table, and Alicia is staring at me wide-eyed, a smile spreading across her face. She stands up to greet me, and Brody stops her short, letting go of my hand to wrap her up in a tight embrace. When he pulls away, she clasps his face between her hands and whispers something to him. He nods, and she smiles again, her gaze darting to me.

  “Ma, Jude, this is my girlfriend, the love of my life, Sabrina Matteo,” he says confidently. My heart stutters as I hear those words. The love of my life. “Dove, this is my mother, Alicia, and my godfather, Jude.”

  He says their names reverently, and I know immediately these people are important to him.

  “It’s very nice to meet you. Both of you. Brody has told me so much about you, Mr. and Mrs. Quinn,” I say, hugging her. I dunno. She just looks like a hugger. “And thank you for letting me and my family crash your party.”

  Mrs. Quinn laughs. “Please, call me Alicia. And this is your party, too. Anyone who’s important to Brody is important to me. Please sit, mija.”

  I turn to look at Brody for reassurance, and his eyes are wide in shock. He’s shaking his head like he doesn’t want to leave me with Nickayla’s parents, but I can’t seem to fathom why that would be.

  “Go on, Jude. Help the guys with the grill. Nikkolas looks like he’s struggling.” She nods her head in Brody’s direction. “B, you can follow me.”

  I laugh nervously, and Brody stalks over to me purposefully. He grabs my face roughly between his hands and kisses me on the lips. He rests his forehead against mine, and closes his eyes. “I love you. I’ll be back for you soon.”

  I nod against him, admiring the little pitter-patter my heart still does after he says those words to me. “And I love you.”

  Jude has walked away, but Alicia grabs Brody’s hand and walks him a few feet away. Their heads are close together and she says something to him that has him tensing up. She says something else, and his head jerks in her direction, then she places something in his hand. He stares at her long and hard before finally, he hugs her again. He holds onto her for even longer this time before he kisses her cheek and walks back in my direction.

  He stops in front of me, and he sits across from me. “Uh. Um, it’s come to my attention that…um. I’m supposed to give this to you.”

  He sounds strange, distant, but he slides a small, baby blue envelope across the table. I stare down at it in confusion, and he kisses the top of my head before releasing the envelope and walking away.

  I flip the envelope over, wondering who it could possibly be from. Either way, if Brody is giving it to me, it must be important. Everything he says and everything he does has a purpose.

  I slide my finger under the flap until it gives, and I pull out elegant, floral stationery.

  To the woman who loves my son,

  Welcome to the family.

  And congratulations. You’ve captured the heart of a Durham boy—my most difficult boy—and believe me, that is no easy feat.

  My Brody keeps those he cares about at arm’s length, and he keeps his heart locked away. If you’re lucky enough to see his heart, then I know you’re the one for him. He’s never been easy, not even once.

  You see, he’s a fighter. He’d rather fight with the people he loves and push them away than let anyone close to him. And it’s not because he’s afraid to get hurt. It’s because he’s afraid of hurting others. I didn’t even know I was expecting him until I was six months along. And I can’t tell you how many nights I spent with him in the emergency room because he would never tell me when he was sick. And good Lord, trying to find out what’s wrong with him when he’s upset is like pulling teeth.

  It’s going to be an everyday struggle trying to love my boy. But if you’re sitting here reading this, I’m sure you know that by now. My boy doesn’t love easy, but when he loves, he loves hard.

  He’s going to try and fight you every step of the way.

  He’s going to think he’s a burden. He’s going to take as little as possible because he doesn’t want to feel like he’s being taken care of. He’s going to try to hide his feelings away because he thinks they’ll do more harm than good. And dear God, he’s going to avoid telling you when he’s sick—seriously, if you even hear him sneeze, check his temperature. He’s good at hiding.

  I know he’s difficult. And I know it’s hard to live with him. But it’s even harder to live without him. That’s a reality I’ve had to struggle to accept.

  If you’re reading this letter, it’s because my best friend, my heart, decided that it was time. And if she decided it was time, that means Brody has decided to fight for you and alongside of you instead of against you.

  I wrote this letter to tell you to fight back.

  Fight him every step of the way over eve
ry possible thing. Fight him when he thinks it’s time to stop fighting. Fight him when he wants to start fighting over something stupid. Fight with him when he tells you no, he doesn’t want his favorite ice cream, and he’ll just have some of yours instead—and yes, he actually does that. (His favorite is Baked Alaska, followed by Cherry Garcia, if you don’t know that yet.) Fight him when he gives you the remote control even though he was really into that football game. Fight him when he tells you he isn’t hungry. And most of all, fight him when he says he’s fine, because he’s not. Fight him when he feels like giving up, because that’s not an option.

  Fight him every day, fight him always.

  That’s how you’ll keep his heart even though you already own it.

  He doesn’t need someone who will submit, who will give him what he wants. He needs someone who will dominate, who will push him to be his best and who will give him what he needs.

  I know you’re good for him, because Ali wouldn’t have given this letter to you if she didn’t approve. And if she approves of you, know that always, always, always, I do, too.

  Take care of my boy.

  Yours,

  Larissa Durham

  By the time I’m done reading, I clutch the letter to my chest as I sob. Nothing anyone said could have prepared me for what was written in this letter. I cry unabashedly, despite the fact that this is supposed to be a merry occasion, and we’re supposed to be celebrating, not mourning. But that’s precisely what I’m doing.

  His mom was clearly a wonderful woman. She loved her children until her dying day, which I can see from the words she wrote for me. And I hate that Brody had to lose her the way he did, and when he did. I know he’ll hurt over it for the rest of his life, but at least he can rest easily, knowing that he was loved unconditionally by his mother.

  Apparently, he saw my tears from afar, because the minute I tuck Larissa’s letter into my back pocket and reach up to wipe my tears, Brody is in front of me. I stand up and walk directly into his chest, and we are intertwined completely as I cry against him. Once I’ve somewhat gained control over my emotions, he tips my chin up and forces me to look at him. His eyes narrow as he attempts to gauge what’s going on with me.