Finding Carly (SEAL Team Hawaii #5)(82)

He felt her lips smile against his skin. Turning his head, Jag kissed her temple. “Why don’t you take a nap. When you wake up, I’ll work on my endurance. Does it bother you that I’m still inside you?”

“No, not at all. But…things might get messy.”

“Awesome,” Jag breathed. He couldn’t think of anything better than having his come leak out of her. It was a Neanderthal thought, but he didn’t even care.

“I hate what happened to you,” Carly said softly, “but I can’t help but be pleased you’re experiencing pleasure like this for the first time. With me.”

“Me too. There’s no one I’d rather have as my mentor than you.”

Carly chuckled again, then shifted, getting more comfortable.

Several minutes went by, and when Jag felt small puffs of air from her mouth against his sensitive skin, he sighed in contentment.

He never thought he could get to this place. But here he was, lying under a woman and perfectly content to do so.

“Thank you,” he mouthed silently to the woman who owned his heart before he finally closed his eyes. He had plans for Carly, and he wanted to make sure he was rested.





CHAPTER TWENTY





Carly lounged on the couch, staring into space with a small smile on her face. The last week had been…a revelation. Jag was everything she’d ever wanted in a boyfriend, but never thought she’d have.

He’d been late leaving for work after PT just this morning, because she’d been lazy and hadn’t gotten out of bed by the time he got home.

After he’d fucked her into a pile of goo, he’d said he couldn’t resist the temptation of her in his bed, naked and sleepy. Carly was more than all right with that. He’d left her still in bed, trying to recover, with a satisfied smile on his face.

Jag may not have had much experience when it came to sex, but he was a fast learner. Carly had never been with a man as determined to make sure she orgasmed each and every time they made love. He paid attention to every little move and sound she made, and if he didn’t think she was enjoying something, he’d immediately change up his technique.

Last night, he’d said he wanted to try letting her be on top at some point. Carly wasn’t eager to rush that. His reaction was still pretty clear in her mind, and they had plenty of time to work up to it. Besides, she was more than enjoying Jag being in control.

He’d seen the psychologist a couple more times, and he told Carly the other night that he was angry at himself for not doing so earlier. What happened to him was a big part of who he was today, but he was finally dealing with it.

Stretching, Carly smiled when she felt a twinge of soreness between her legs. Her phone vibrated next to her with a text and she reached over to pick it up.



Kenna: I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. I know this is coming out of left field. I was thinking about how well you’re doing and it almost made me cry. Love you.



Tears sprang to Carly’s eyes after reading her friend’s message. Truth be told, Carly was proud of herself too. She’d come a long way from the terrified woman huddled in the corner in her bedroom, hiding in her apartment, too scared to step foot outside. She wasn’t quite back to the woman she’d been before Shawn, but that was all right.

Carly wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to being the slightly na?ve person she’d been. Thanks to the self-defense lessons with Elizabeth, and getting tips from Jag and his friends, Carly felt stronger. If Shawn had kidnapped her a few months ago, instead of Kenna, there was no way she would’ve had the inner fortitude to do what her friend had. She would’ve been paralyzed with fear, and Shawn would either have succeeded with his evil plans or she would’ve been blown to bits along with him.

It was easy to armchair quarterback what she might do now if Shawn was still alive and tried to snatch her, but she wanted to think she’d be able to get away from him somehow. She never went anywhere without the small bottle of pepper spray in her purse, and she made sure to always wear shorts or pants with pockets so she could carry the pocketknife Jag had given her. She’d learned a lot of ways to use her body—elbows, knees, even her head if necessary—to get someone to let go of her so she could run like hell.

That was one of the things Elizabeth hammered home in every session. The goal was to get away from an attacker. Not stay and beat him up. Get away. Facts showed that once a bad guy got someone in a car, the chances of the victim surviving went down at least fifty percent. Elizabeth also said one of the best weapons a woman, or anyone, had was their voice. People who were up to no good didn’t want any attention brought to what they were doing. So even if an attacker told you not to make a sound, nine times out of ten it was better to scream your head off.

Of course, Elodie had to go and ask what happened if they weren’t in a public place. She was probably thinking about what had happened to her when her life was threatened in the middle of the ocean, where no one would have heard her if she’d screamed.

Elizabeth’s answer was to tap her temple with her finger. “Then you have to be smarter than your attacker.”

It was a simplistic answer, which Carly didn’t really think would actually help in a life-or-death situation, but she understood Elizabeth’s point. Panicking wouldn’t help. And if there wasn’t anyone around who could help, it would be up to the victim to help themselves.