Setting the handset on my sterile grey desk phone down, I catch the time on the digital display: 6:38 p.m. I’ve been at work since seven this morning. I’ve been putting in almost sixty hours a week since I started at WXZI, and it doesn’t appear it’s going to slow down any time soon. I’ve been squeezing in lunchtime appointments with Dr. Peterson twice a week and feel like I’m making some progress. My stomach growls loudly just as Lindsay’s blonde head pops up from over the cubicle wall we share.

“You almost ready to go?” she asks with a little too much energy. Lindsay never tires, never slows down, and at times, her boundless energy is exhausting.

“Do you ever get tired?” I ask, my words dripping with sarcasm.

“Nope, and you’re not getting out of this. I don’t care how tired you claim to be,” she fires back at me.

“Parties aren’t really my thing and all…considering I’m only nineteen,” I respond, hoping my age will remind her that I’m young, and boring, and she should really find friends that she can go out to bars and go clubbing with.

“You’ll be twenty next week, and that means you’re basically twenty-one.”

I actually burst out laughing at her logic. “Yeah, well, the law doesn’t see it that way. Ask your brother,” I say jokingly.

“Speaking of my brother…”she says, shaking her eyebrows at me.

“Don’t. There’s nothing there.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for weeks what happened when he came to check on you. I’ve been waiting for you to offer up the goods, but you’re holding out on me.” Lindsay laughs, tossing her purse over her shoulder. “Plus, you guys have been spending a lot of time together.”

“We’ve gone to a movie and to dinner, once,” I snap back at her accusations.

“I think you’re forgetting about him bringing you coffee and lunch. And didn’t you go to the gym together last week? Those all count as dates.”

“You kill me, Linds. Kill Me.” I laugh at her.

Reaching down, I shut off my computer monitor and grab my cell phone, stuffing it into the outside pocket of my purse.

“And about that night, there’s nothing to tell. He came by, checked on me, and left.”

“Right. You can keep lying to me, but I know he stayed with you that night.” Lindsay grins at me and rolls her eyes. “Let’s go,” she says, hooking her arm through mine, dragging my lifeless body out of my cubicle.

“I hate parties,” I grumble. “And I’m hungry.”

“You love parties and you know what, maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll feed you,” Lindsay says, squeezing my arm. “Let’s do this.”

 

 

Standing against the wall in the kitchen full of drunk people I don’t know, people I don’t care to know, I spy a single French door that must lead to a patio. Slithering through the mass of sweaty bodies that are standing in small groups throughout the house, I excuse myself, bumping into everyone along the way to my escape. There has to be fifty people at this party, and they are all standing between that door and me. In my past life, parties with people I didn’t know were fun. It was exciting to meet new people and talk to strangers. Now I don’t give a shit.

Lindsay is across the kitchen, tending to the thirty liquor bottles that have filled up the entire granite island. It’s hot and sticky in this house, and everyone reeks of booze, including myself. I just need some fresh air. Reaching the door, I open it slightly and squeeze myself out, trying not to draw attention to myself in the process. It’s pitch black out on the patio, with the exception of a few landscape lights that light-up the bottom of a few trees.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can see there is a large pool that is surrounded by reclining patio chairs. It’s unseasonably warm for this time of year in North Carolina, and I’m still not used to the humidity. The air hangs thick, causing my clothes to stick to me. Kicking off my shoes, I walk to the side of the pool and sit down. I slowly dip my toes into the cool water, I let them fall further, until the water is midway up my calves.

Kicking my legs slowly, the cool water and the fresh air relax me a bit. Over my shoulder I look back at the house, and watch the party continue. People are talking, laughing, and enjoying themselves. That used to be me. God, I want to be fun again. I lift the red plastic cup to my lips and toss back the remainder of my Vodka cranberry. I can feel the effects of the alcohol after tossing back three cups of the sweet concoction.

“Watcha doin’, baby girl?”

I hear his voice behind me, and I snap my head around to find where he is, but I don’t see him.

“Landon, is that you?”

“Better be, unless someone else is calling you ‘baby girl.’” He snickers and finally shows himself as he walks toward me.

“What are you doing? You know it’s a little creepy, you hanging in a dark backyard by yourself, sneaking up on people,” I snap at him.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing? Sitting out here by yourself.”

“Touché, but I’m not sneaking up on anyone.”

He crosses the large paved patio and sits down next to me. He’s wearing tan cargo shorts and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“I wasn’t outside creeping. See those doors over there?” he says pointing to the far side of the house that is pitch black.

“Where? I can’t see them,” I say, as a hiccup escapes me.

“Well, those doors lead to my bedroom. I was in my room and decided to come out here to get some air. Looks like you had the same idea.”

Shaking my head in agreement. “Yup. I don’t do well in large groups of people that I don’t know.” I quip. At least not anymore, I think to myself.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to ask.” There is a long pause, as he contemplates asking me whatever is about to piss me off. “Why are you so pissed at everyone? It’s like you have a stick up your ass. You’re pissed at the world, Jess.”

“I do not have a stick up my ass, and I’m not pissed at the world,” I protest. Now he’s laughing harder.

“Every time I’m with you, there are these moments where you close yourself off. You shut down and become very cold. I just know you’d be so much fun if you just relaxed a little, that’s all. I can see it in you.”

“See what?” I ask as I contemplate what he’s just told me.

“Fun. I see a fun, Jess,” he answers quietly.I don’t respond to him. I used to be fun. I used to be carefree and happy and not so bitter and sad.

“Yeah, maybe,” I admit.

“So let’s have fun...well, I’m going to have fun,” he says, jumping up. “I’ll be right back.”

Shit. I can only imagine what he’s up too. A case of nerves hits me, and my stomach does a small flip, and I’m not sure if it’s the nerves or the alcohol that is causing this reaction. Landon disappears into the dark where he had just come from. The utter presence of him makes me entirely too nervous. He’s much older than me, but more than that, he’s intimidating in a sexy kind of way. He has a take-charge personality and doesn’t mince words or actions. He demands my attention when we’re together; he doesn’t ask me to do things with him, he demands, or rather, insists.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I murmur to myself.

“What’s that, baby girl?” he says, reappearing and holding a bottle in one hand and a small shot glass in the other.

“Uh, what’s that?” I hiss at him.

“Tequila.”

“You are a cop. You cannot give me alcohol. Wouldn’t that be contributing to the delinquency of a minor?” I razz him.

“Yeah, yeah. Looks like you’ve already contributed to your own delinquency.” He kicks the empty red plastic cup out of the way, as he sits down next to me. “Plus, this is for me.” He raises and shakes his eyebrows at me. “Oh, and by the way, you’re not leaving here tonight.” His lips twist into an evil smile.

“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.

Sticking 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. Mexican’s 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. Raising his eyebrows, 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.

Tossing 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 that 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 two 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 oversize chair.

I can hear him open another door as he runs his hand up and down the wall. Flipping a switch, light appears and fills 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. Tilting 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. “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, 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 breathes, I clear my throat and with a swallow, I murmur, “I was raped.”