Unbreakable

by Rebecca Shea

  “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. “Over protective 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, I 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. Though he’s taller than me, 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.

  Tasting 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. Gently kissing and sucking, my body is tingling and trembling at the same time from his touch.

  He begins walking backwards and pulling me with him at the same time while never taking his 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 thing that separates us is my thin silk panties and the khaki cargo shorts he has on.

  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 breathes 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.

  Opening 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 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, ta
lk 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 breathes, I clear my throat and with a swallow, I murmur, “I was raped.”

  I honestly don’t know if I heard her correctly. Pushing her forward slightly and turning her by her shoulders to face me, her head is dropped forward, and her long brown hair is hanging 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 that 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 on each of her cheeks, and then place my hand back on her arm to gently hold her up. “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 said, 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.” Lifting 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.

  “I need you to listen to me for a minute and not say anything, please,” I beg her. I need for her to let me talk before she says anything. But most importantly I need her to trust me.

  “Ok,” she says, her voice still trembling.

  “If I had any idea, whatsoever, that this had happened to you, I would never have touched you like that. I need you to know that I would never take advantage of you, or pressure you to do anything that you weren’t comfortable with.”

  She nods her head at me and maintains eye contact. “You also know that what happened to you wasn’t your fault right?” She nods her head again, and her eyes fill with tears.

  “Will you tell me what happened?” I ask her, hoping that she trusts me enough to tell me. Dropping her eyes again, she looks at our hands intertwined on the pillow sitting on her lap. For what feels like minutes, we sit. Her eyes are downcast and focused on our hands that remained linked in a tight knot. With a gentle squeeze and a deep breath, she quietly starts talking. I hold my breath, and hang on every word she’s speaking.

  With her bottom lip quivering and her chin in a small pucker, I see the strength and bravery in the words she’s whispering to me. I take in every minor detail from the name of the park she’s running in to the song she’s listening to on her phone.

  For the next hour she tells me every last detail of what happened to her. There are times I don’t know if I can bear the details, but I don’t stop her. This is her story and she needs to tell it. At times I’m overcome with sadness and times I’m overcome with anger…for her. But it’s when she speaks of Gabe that I’m overcome with jealousy.

  Silence fills the space around us. I don’t know if she’s done talking, or gathering her thoughts, so I give her time. She releases her death grip on my hand and lies down on the bed, her head propped on my pillow. She just stares at me, blinking slowly. She has spoken non-stop for the last hour and didn’t cry. I’m overwhelmed for her. Sliding off the bed, I walk to my dresser. I pull out a white tank top undershirt and pair of boxer shorts that will undoubtedly be too big for her, but I take them to her anyway.

  “Change into these. I’m going to go get you some water and Tylenol.” I hand her the tank top and boxers.

  Opening my bedroom door, I find her sitting on the side of the bed, her long legs dangling out from the wide opening of my boxer shorts. My tank top fits her snugly, showing every curve of her upper body. I hand her the two Tylenol, she pops them and swallows with a sip of water. She stands up and starts walking toward the door.

  “Jess, take my bed, please. I’ll sleep on the couch.” With a slight smile, she doesn’t argue but walks over to the far side of the bed. Pulling the covers down, she stands next to the bed looking at it. I turn to leave the room and hear her slide into my bed and under the covers.

  “Wait. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

  For just a moment, I’m overcome with happiness. Not because she wants me to sleep with her, but because she feels safe with me. She trusts me. I feel a tug at my heart, which is such a foreign feeling for me, as I walk back toward the bed. Sliding into bed, I leave my cargo shorts on and reach
to shut off the small table lamp. Careful as I lie down, I am sure to keep my distance from her to give her as much space as she wants or needs.

  Raising my arms above my head, I relax into my place. Within seconds, she wiggles over and wraps herself around me. Her arm across my chest, and her long legs twisted in between mine. She’s pressed up against my side, and her face is pressed to the side of my chest.

  I lower my arms from above my head, and twist slightly to wrap myself around her. It’s comfortable and peaceful.

  “Landon?”

  “Yeah, baby girl?”

  “Thank you,” she whispers, her lips pressed to my chest.

  “For what? I didn’t do anything.”

  “For not running away from me. For listening to me and caring about me,” she replies.

  “It sounds like you have a lot of people that care about you,” I whisper. Listening to her breathing settle into short shallow breaths, I know she’s asleep. Feeling her heart beat against my chest, I close my eyes and feel a sense of contentment. For the first time in my life, I decide that I’m going to do the right thing, even though it may be the hardest thing I ever do. I’m letting her go.

  I could love waking up to her warm body wrapped all around me every morning. Her long legs are still tucked in between mine, and her arm is tightly wrapped around my chest. There is absolutely no way I’m going to be able to slip out of bed without waking her. Running my index finger down her arm, I quietly whisper, trying to wake her without startling.

  “Baby girl, time to wake up.” I continue to run my finger up and down her arm as she starts to rustle. Rolling her arm and chest off of me, she slides her legs out from mine so that she is now lying flat on her back. Rubbing her eyes, she mumbles something inaudible and rolls over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow.

  I want so badly to touch her, to finish what we started last night, but then I remember the promise I made to myself. Let her go. I rub her back gently and lean in close to her ear.

  “Time to get up, baby girl,” I whisper again, brushing her hair off of her shoulders and back, sweeping it over to one side, so I can see her face.