Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  “I’m not staying here,” I fire back at him.

  “Yes, you are. You’re staying with Lindsay. It’s not open for discussion. You’ve been drinking, Linds has been drinking, everyone at this damn house has been drinking, and I’m about to start as well. You are not leaving here tonight. Comprende?” His tone is firm with me. I had forgotten all about Lindsay. Fuck.

  “By the way, remind me to talk to Lindsay about having parties at my house without talking to me first, will ya?” Oh shit. Lindsay never told him about the party? No wonder he was in his room. He was probably pissed off.

  When he sticks his feet in the water next to mine, the bottle of cheap tequila and a shot glass situated between us, my mind wanders back to the day I rode on the back of his motorcycle. My arms around his taut stomach, the smell of his masculine body wash and testosterone all mixed together.

  “Couldn’t have bought better tequila?” I grumble, looking straight ahead over the pool. That elicits a deep belly laugh from him.

  “So you have experience with tequila?” Landon asks coyly.

  “Maybe a little,” I snicker. “Remember who raised me. Mexicans do not drink shitty tequila,” I announce.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. I’m leaning back with my arms extended out behind me, propping me up, and my legs still dangling in the pool water.

  Pushing myself up, I reach for the tequila bottle and twist the gold cap off. Lifting the large bottle up, I pour a shot for me. He raises his eyebrows and I can tell he’s wondering what in the hell I’m doing. Grabbing the shot glass, I raise it in the air between us. “Salud,” I say, and he never takes his eyes off of me.

  I toss the fiery liquid to the back of my throat. I’ve learned that getting it down in one swallow with as little of it touching your tongue is the way to shoot tequila. Shaking my head from side to side in disgust, I let out a small grunt while my body shudders. A small chuckle leaves his lips as he reaches out to rub my arm, which has broken out in goose bumps from a combination of nerves and shitty tequila.

  Setting the shot glass down between us, I try to focus on keeping the tequila down in my belly. I continue to slowly kick my legs in the water, and I can feel his eyes trained on me, along with the alcohol burning in my stomach. Hearing him shift, I try to see what he’s doing out of the corner of my eye. He’s pouring himself a shot, and he raises the glass and salutes me in return. Tossing back the shot, he immediately pours himself another one and tosses the second one back.

  I almost gag at the sight of him taking two shots of that shitty tequila, as I can still taste it on the back of my tongue. I don’t think I could do another shot of tequila without losing it all over this pool deck.

  “Where are your keys?” Landon whispers.

  “Seriously? I’m not going to drink and drive. I’ll stay with Lindsay, all right. Just relax.” I realize how bitchy that just came out.

  He obviously doesn’t care about my little outburst as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he nods at me in understanding. Silence fills the air, except for the small laps of water that hit the side of the pool from me fluttering my feet. Landon lies down on the pool deck. With his hands behind his head, he looks up at the sky, feet still hanging in the water.

  I’m starting to feel a little fuzzy from the three drinks earlier and the shot of tequila, and I have to use the restroom. Pulling my feet out of the water, and pushing myself to stand up, I search for my flip-flops in the dark.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.

  “I’m not leaving if that’s what you’re asking. I have to brave the crowd in there to find the restroom,” I say, spotting my flip-flops. Walking over to them, I bend down and line them up so I can slide my wet feet into them. As I right myself, I wobble and step back, catching myself.

  “Not so fast, baby girl,” he says, jumping to his feet. Moving quickly across the patio, he closes the distance, and instantly wraps his arms around my waist from behind, steadying me. Leaning forward, he rests his chin on my shoulder. I can feel his warm breath on my neck. My pulse quickens, and I take a deep breath, smelling the light scent of his body wash and tequila. Turning his head, I can feel how close his lips are to my ear, and it sends shivers down my body.

  He tenses slightly when he feels my shiver and slowly unwraps his arms from my waist. Still standing behind me, he runs his hands down both of my arms, sending another quivering wave through me. There is something in his touch that triggers a response in me. Slowly, his hands reach mine, and he moves around to the front of me. Taking my hand in his, he tugs me forward slightly.

  “Follow me,” he whispers as he guides me through the dark, down a paved walkway to double French doors. Turning the handle, he pushes one of the doors, and I feel a rush of cool air escape from the room and brush across my face. Stepping inside, he pulls me closer and guides me through the room. The room is dark, but I can make out large objects: a bed, a dresser, nightstands, and an oversized chair.

  I can hear him open another door as he runs his hand up and down the wall. He flips a switch and light appears, filling the small room that I see is a bathroom.

  “There you go. I’ll wait right here for you.”

  I step inside the bathroom, turning to close the door behind me, but I can’t because he’s still standing in the doorway, staring at me. When I tilt my head at him, he finally backs up slightly.

  “Do you need water?”

  “I’m okay; just a little wobbly.” I giggle, shutting the door and flipping the lock on the handle.

  “Be careful,” I hear him say through the door.

  Shaking my head, I can’t help but smile. “Overprotective much?” I say back through the door.

  “You’re killing me, woman,” he mutters back at me. I can’t help but giggle.

  After I’m done relieving myself, I adjust my almost too short denim skirt and straighten my black lace-trimmed tank top. Washing my hands, I check myself out in the mirror. I grab a tissue from the box on the counter and wipe under my eyes where it looks like my eyeliner is bleeding. The damn humidity does not help my make-up situation.

  My cheeks are pink and flushed, probably from drinking, or it could be from the way my body reacts when Landon touches me. Swallowing hard, I turn to the door and open it slowly. Landon is sitting on the side of his bed, waiting for me, and a small lamp on his bedside table is on.

  “Feel better?” he asks, handing me a cold bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, I nod my head yes at him and take a small sip of water. Landon stands up and moves closer to me, watching me drink the water. We maintain eye contact as I continue to drink. A small smile crosses his face, and before I even realize what is happening, large arms wrap around me and push me up against the wall.

  The bottle of water falls from my hands and splashes both of us on its way to the floor. Landon kicks the bottle of water out of the way, and presses himself closer to me. Since he’s taller than I am, he lowers his head slightly and without warning, presses his warm lips to mine. Not moving, he leaves his lips pressed against mine, waiting for my reaction.

  My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest, but my body reacts differently. My body relaxes slightly under his grip, and a low moan escapes the back of my throat. My lips separate slightly, inviting him in, and he accepts the invitation, devouring my mouth.

  I taste the slightest hints of cinnamon and tequila; his lips are soft and intoxicating. Gently nipping my bottom lip, he runs his tongue over my top lip, and my breath hitches. My legs are wobbly, and if he wasn’t holding me against the wall, I know my legs would fail me.

  His arm is snaked around my body, resting along my lower back. Pulling me forward slightly, he presses me against the front of him. My head falls back against the wall, and he immediately moves in to assault my neck. As he gently kisses and sucks, my body tingles and trembles from his touch.

  He begins walking backwards and pulls me with him at the same time, while never taking hi
s mouth off of my neck. Twisting us around, I can feel the edge of the tall bed just behind my thighs as he pushes us down onto the soft mattress.

  For a split second, thoughts of Gabe fill my mind as I feel Landon’s firm body on top of mine. I’ve never slept with anyone other than Gabe, and my body has never reacted this way to anyone other than him. It was always supposed to be Gabe. Me and Gabe. No one else. Landon uses his hips to push me further up into the middle of the bed, and his mouth has moved from my neck to my chest. He pulls my leg up and wraps it around his waist, and naturally, my other leg follows.

  Pulling my arms above my head, he uses his hand to hold them in place, lacing his fingers through the fingers on both of my hands. He shifts his hips and presses his erection into me. My denim skirt is above my waist, and the only things that separate us are my thin silk panties and his khaki cargo shorts.

  My body is tingling, and I feel close to losing control. My hips are rocking slightly, and he gently squeezes my nipples through my tank top, causing me to gasp. My hips rock faster, and he continues to press his erection into me. My hands are still above my head as he presses kisses across my chest and back up to my lips.

  “Landon,” I whisper.

  “Shh…don’t talk. Just feel.”

  “Oh God, please, Landon…”

  “Shh…”

  The only sounds in the room are the deep breaths and the light noises our bodies are making. Kissing me again, he presses his erection into me harder, and I realize how close to the edge of losing it I am. My breathing quickens, and I wrap my legs around him tighter, holding him firmly in place.

  “Don’t come,” he whispers across my lips.

  My legs aren’t doing a very good job of holding him in place because he thrusts again, and I’m on the cusp of losing it and giving in to the throbbing between my legs. A moan escapes me.

  “Not yet. I will tell you when you can, understand?” he demands. My panties are soaked and my legs are shaking. “Open your eyes and look at me,” he instructs. It isn’t until he tells me to open my eyes that I realize I’ve kept them so tightly closed.

  “Open your eyes now,” he mutters again against my lips, pressing firm kisses on me.

  When I open them, our eyes meet, and we stay focused on each other. I’m trying to ignore the pulsing between my legs, the goose bumps across my skin, and the rapid beating of my heart. Without blinking, he presses himself up against me one more time, causing my body to shudder. My legs clench around him.

  “Not yet. Do you understand me?”

  “Please,” I beg.

  “No. I will tell you when.”

  “Oh, God,” I moan again as I begin to feel the tingles start spreading through my lower half.

  My eyes roll back, but I shake my head yes in understanding. His hand pinches both of my nipples again, but slowly, he moves his hand downward. Lifting his hips away from my center, he offers me a temporary reprieve until his fingers push away my panties to one side. With a gasp, his fingers find that center of nerves that is about to explode.

  “Please,” I beg some more. My legs are shaking, and I can’t stop moving my hips. If it didn’t feel so good, I would consider this torture.

  Gently rubbing me, he reminds me again, “Do not come yet. I will tell you when.” The pad of his thumb is working my clit, rubbing it side to side with gentle presses, and I honestly can’t breathe anymore.

  “So wet and so swollen,” he mutters, continuing to strum me with his thumb. Sliding back in one fluid motion, he settles himself on his knees between my legs. “Leave your hands above your head.” I obey. There is something in the way he orders me that I don’t question, I don’t refuse.

  He pulls my panties down and off of my legs. I begin to panic. I can’t do this yet, not with him. My legs are shaking, but he finds that spot again and pinches and presses, bringing me back to the edge, and it feels so good.

  Running his fingers down through my swollen lips, he continues rubbing me. “So wet.” A low growl escapes him. “I need to taste you.”

  “Landon…” Before I can say no, his tongue is wreaking havoc on me. I gasp for breath, arching my back off the bed. I feel his tongue brush my clit, and I can’t hold it any longer. My legs are shaking and everything between my legs is pulsing.

  “Please. I have to now,” I beg.

  With one last swipe of his tongue, I begin my fall. Just as ecstasy takes over my body, I feel him slip two fingers in me, and this is where I’m not ready to go. My chest caves like it has a ton of bricks on it. I can’t breathe and my throat tightens.

  “Stop. Please,” I cry out, snapping my legs together as tightly as I can. Tears leak from my eyes and roll down the sides of my face and into my hair. “Please,” I cry, pulling my hands over my face.

  He freezes, but does exactly as I ask him. He crawls up to me in a panic and pulls me into his arms.

  “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? God, please tell me I didn’t hurt you.” I can hear the panic and concern in his voice. He’s squeezing me into his chest, hugging me and rocking me.

  Shaking my head no, a giant sob breaks free; I pull out of his arms, rolling to my side. Pulling my skirt down, I still feel so exposed. Landon pulls me into him again as I fight him, trying to break free from his grasp, but he won’t let me go.

  “Shh… it’s okay,” he says over and over again, holding my head to his chest while I shake and cry. “Jess, talk to me. What happened? What did I do?”

  I can’t answer him, because it’s not him; it’s me. I cry for what seems like hours. Landon never loosens his grip on me, but every few minutes, he squeezes my arm, or kisses the back of my head to let me know he’s still there. As embarrassed as I am, I feel safe with him, and I’m not ready to leave the safety of his arms. It’s the same feeling I felt with Gabe—safe—and that’s comforting to me, yet selfish, I know.

  My breathing finally settles as my crying subsided minutes ago. Landon shifts slightly on the bed, still holding me, not loosening his grip on me. In one swift move, he pulls us up to a sitting position. He rests his back against the large wooden headboard on his bed and pulls me tightly against him, my back to his chest.

  Loosening his grip a little, he runs his hands up and down my arms in a move to comfort me. I feel him press his lips against the back of my head, leaving them there before pulling his lips away and resting his forehead against the back of my head.

  “Talk to me, baby girl, please,” he begs. His voice is full of concern. “Please tell me what happened.”

  I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the fact that I’m hiding behind a façade that I am okay because I’m not. Something inside me actually wants to tell him, to be honest with someone other than Dr. Peterson. My heart races, but this time, I force myself to calm down. Taking two deep breaths, I clear my throat and, with a swallow, I murmur, “I was raped.”

  Chapter 39

  Landon

  I honestly don’t know if I heard her correctly. I push her forward slightly and, turning her by her shoulders to face me, her head drops forward and her long brown hair hangs loosely, covering her beautiful face. I realize I’m gripping her upper arms rather tightly, but I’m so afraid she’ll run away from me.

  “Look at me,” I say quietly, yet firm. I mean it. She shakes her head from side to side in little movements.

  “Jessica, look at me.” I pronounce each word softly. Her chest is heaving in and out, and I see tears dripping from her face onto her bare legs, which are crossed in front of us. Slowly, she lifts her head, tears running down her cheeks like little streams, and our eyes finally meet. The large green irises appear even greener, as the whites of her eyes are stained pink from her crying.

  Releasing one of her arms, I use my free hand to wipe the tears from each of her cheeks, and then place my hand back on her arm to hold her up gently. “I need you to repeat what you just said to me.” I swallow hard. My mouth has gone dry as I wait for her to repeat what she said. I know what she s
aid, but I fucking pray to God that I heard her wrong. Her head drops again slightly, but this time, I catch her chin and hold her head in place.

  “Baby, talk to me.” As I lift her chin a little higher, her eyes finally meet mine. With a deep breath, she mutters those three words that cause my stomach to clench again.

  “I was raped,” she whispers again. This time, her head doesn’t fall forward, but she shifts her eyes away from me; she doesn’t want to look at me. Large tears continue to fall from her eyes and down her cheeks. I’ve never seen such large tears. I can feel her body trembling underneath my grip as I watch her lip and chin quiver. My stomach is in knots, and if I wasn’t so concerned about her state of mind, I’d fucking punch something. To see this perfect girl so scared, so broken, kills me.

  “When?” I ask, not sure I really want to know the answer or that it really matters, but it’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

  “Three months ago,” she replies quietly, in between short gasping breaths, and I inhale sharply at how recent that was.

  My body is overcome with anger, and hate roils its way through my veins. I pull my hand away from her chin and release her arms. Wrapping both of mine around her, I pull her into my lap, cradling her. Without thinking, without asking, I kiss her forehead repeatedly. Small, soft kisses. Holding her, I think about the animal that could do this to another person, but especially to Jess. As a police officer, my mind is flooded with many questions I want to ask her; Did they catch him? Did she know him? But as the man that loves her, I just want to comfort her.

  I replay every encounter I’ve had with her, thinking about the last couple of months of getting to know her. Her behaviors and moods make more sense. Every bad mood, every snarky response, every downcast eye, every time she’s pulled away; her trust issues have all been the walls she’s constructed to protect herself. I know these walls, but for very different reasons.

  She pulls herself out of my lap, and I let her go. I want her to feel safe and not constrained. She positions herself cross-legged in front of me and grabs a small pillow, placing it on her lap, over her short skirt. Her hands are twisting around each other, shaking on top of the pillow. I reach out and stop both of her hands with one of mine. Looking up at me, I see it. The sadness that has always been there, but now I recognize the pain behind it.