SEAL'D In Deep

by Jolie Day

  And if she needed to use lingerie to do that, then so be it.

  Liz stood in front of his door for several minutes before she finally willed herself to knock, feeling the vibration wash over her as she waited for him to answer. By the time he did, her panties were already damp. At the sight of him, though, Liz feared that they might be ruined for good.

  Carter was bare from the waist up, scars and tattoos lining his sweaty, muscular body. She could see the entirety of his anchor tattoo now. There was a date etched on it that she couldn’t quite make out without getting closer to him. She stayed rooted to her spot, mesmerized by the Adonis before her.

  “Hey,” he greeted, casual and detached. Typically.

  “H-hi,” she stuttered in response. She had felt so confident on the walk from her apartment—in her four-inch fuck-me heels, no less—but every ounce of it had suddenly vacated her body the second their eyes met, it would seem. She was trapped between the urge to throw herself directly at his body or melt into the floor from the heat of his gaze. Liz cleared her throat, trying for aloof as she placed her hands on her hips, cocking one of them to the side in a sexy pose. “Come here often?” she purred.

  “It’s my apartment,” Carter retorted. “So yeah.”

  His voice was huskier than usual and she could see the tightness in his shoulders. A thrill went through her as some of her confidence returned, leaving a warmth in her belly.

  “I thought you said it was your friend’s place?” She tilted her head to the side, allowing her purposefully mussed red curls fall to reveal the curve of her neck on the other side. She caught the quick flicker of his eyes and rejoiced on the inside.

  “Yeah, well I’m staying here, aren’t I?” His voice was somehow deeper.

  “For how long?” she asked, pouting her lips slightly as she met his eyes and allowed hers to linger for a second on his lips, hoping that he would notice and just take her instead of continuing this nonsensical chitchat.

  He didn’t take the bait.

  “Long enough,” he said, still leaning against the doorjamb. “What’s under the trench coat?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Why do you think I asked?” he muttered, but his eyes were practically scalding her now with their intensity. They stood there for a long moment, just staring at each other, daring one another to make the first move. They both knew what was under the trench coat. They both knew exactly why she was there. They both knew what was going to happen the second she stepped across the threshold.

  Or, at least, Liz hoped that Carter could read in her eyes what she wanted to happen. She hoped he wanted the same. The heat in his eyes told her that he did, but neither of them made a move.

  She wanted to, but there was something that kept her from lurching forward just yet. Something unspoken that rooted her to the ground.

  Liz fought the urge to start playing with her fingers as the tension between them mounted. Keeping eye contact was proving difficult the longer it went on. Her body was screaming for his touch. Her lips wanted to taste his entire body. Her fingers itched to map his muscles. Her eyes wanted to take in every scar and burn and tattoo and contour. She wanted to know what he looked like under the loose-fitting sweatpants.

  It took a while, but the tension between them was broken by a muttered curse under his breath as Carter reached for her, pulling Liz forcefully against his body and slanting his lips down over hers. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers digging into his hair as she molded herself against him, allowing Carter to guide her into the apartment and close the door with her body. The force of the wood hitting her back made her moan in ecstasy and she immediately began to gyrate her hips into his.

  Carter growled into her mouth as his hands slipped beneath her thighs, lifting her up and pressing against her more insistently, his lower body holding her against the door as his lips trailed down her neck, pushing aside the collar of her trench coat with his chin. One of his hands went to the knot tied at her waist and undid it so deftly that she found herself gasping for breath, as if she hadn’t had any oxygen until this very second. One more nip against her pulse and she was back to fighting for it.

  Carter wasted little time in going for the soaked panties, pushing aside the crotch to plunge a finger into her wetness, making Liz cry out as she pressed her lips to his temple. She heard Carter growl against her breast, before he wrapped his lips around the lace-covered nipple and added a second finger inside of her. Liz practically sobbed, holding on for dear life as she rode his fingers, feeling them plunge in and out of her, stretching her and sending sparks of pleasure up her spine as her thighs quivered and the calluses on Carter’s fingers rubbed a particularly sensitive spot deep inside of her.

  When she came apart against his front door, Liz was certain that she saw heaven. Or hell. Or wherever one went when they felt this much pleasure flooding their system at one time. It was magnificent, wherever she was heading. She never wanted to return to earth.

  But, sadly, she had to. Her body was still limp as she came back to herself, her arms banded around Carter’s shoulders and her head pressed back against the door as she fought to catch her breath.

  When he was certain that she could hold herself up, Carter loosened Liz’s legs from around his waist and helped her slip down to land on her feet in her impossibly high heels. Even with them on, she barely reached his chin. Her legs felt like jello and she stumbled for a second, before he caught her, holding on until she could hold her weight again.

  “You good?” Carter asked. Liz nodded, unable to speak. “Good,” he said. “Do you want a drink?”

  “S-sure,” Liz replied, her mind still slightly muddled with lust. “That sounds really good.” Her legs were shaky as she followed him into the kitchen, wrapping her coat more tightly around her as a chill invaded her body. She watched as Carter reached up into a cupboard for a couple of glasses and then crouched down into a lower one, tugging out a bottle of whiskey. He showed it to her and she nodded.

  Carter poured them each a glass and returned to the kitchen table, sitting across from her. “Cheers,” he said, clinking the tip of his against hers.

  “Cheers,” she echoed, with a tiny grin. They each took a sip and she winced slightly. Carter, on the other hand, barely moved a muscle.

  “So,” Liz said, putting her glass down on the table and leaning in, on her elbow, “what brings you to Los Angeles?”

  “It’s a long story,” Carter retorted, gazing down at the amber liquid in his glass.

  “I’ve got time.”

  Carter turned to her and Liz gave him a crooked grin and lifted her eyebrows, almost challenging him. To what, though, she had no idea.

  He didn’t rise to the bait.

  “You go first,” he said, instead. “You said that you traveled all around the country.”

  “And Europe,” Liz added.

  “And yet you ended up in Los Angeles. Why?”

  “That’s a short and not very interesting story, I’m afraid,” Liz said.

  Carter shrugged. “Then make it interesting.”

  “I’m a photographer; not a writer.”

  “Why can’t you be both?”

  Liz laughed at that, shaking her head. She took another long sip of her whiskey and sighed, before looking back up at him. “Okay,” she said, putting a dramatic tone into her voice. “Well, it all started when I got out of college…”

  *****

  They spoke for an hour or two, the subjects ranging from the warm and predictable sunny California weather, to Liz’s upcoming gallery openings, to stories of her travel through Europe. By the time she realized how late it had gotten, she was already halfway through her third glass of whiskey and a warmth permeated her body. She could swear that her words were becoming slurred.

  Carter must have heard it, too, because he easily slipped the glass out of her hand and replaced it with a bottle of water from the fridge. “Drink that,” he ordered. “All of it. Otherwise, you�
�ll probably feel bad tomorrow.”

  “Why do you care?” It came out more defensive than she had intended it.

  Carter was unfazed. “I don’t, actually,” he said. “It’s up to you if you want to wake up hungover. Just don’t come crying to me when you can’t take your pictures of the Walk of Fame or whatever.”

  Liz drank the entire bottle in two minutes.

  “Would you like to grab lunch with me tomorrow?” she asked. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “I’d like to,” Carter said, scratching the back of his neck, “but I’ve got something to take care of. It’ll probably take most of the day.” He stood and reached for a drawer next to the sink, pulling out a notepad and a pen. He scribbled down a number and held it out for her to take. “Text me tomorrow.” When their fingers just barely brushed, Liz felt a frisson of electricity run through her that sent a thrill up her spine. She bit her lip and nodded, swallowing thickly as she made her way to the door. She could feel the heat of his body even from several feet away as he followed her until she’d reached the hall outside.

  “Okay,” she said. “Goodnight then.” She turned to walk down the hall, tying the belt of her trench coat around her as she went and tucking Carter’s number into her pocket. She heard the lock click behind her as she reached the elevator, unable to so much as consider taking the stairs.

  Her legs were going to ache tomorrow.

  Chapter Three

  “How are you doing today, Mr. McIntyre?”

  “Call me Carter.”

  “Is that what you’d prefer?”

  “Actually, I’d prefer not to be here in the first place, but we can’t all get what we want, huh?”

  The gray-haired man sighed and took off his glasses. “I heard that you felt that way,” he said. “But these sessions are supposed to help you after your…ordeal.”

  “Is that what they’re calling it?” Carter huffed, leaning back in his chair. “An ‘ordeal’? It was a bombing. They’re common out there.”

  “So you’re saying it was no big deal, then? You don’t feel affected by it at all.”

  “That’s not what I said,” Carter growled.

  “Well, you’re not saying very much, so forgive me,” the doctor said. His voice was calm, serene, soft as the sweater he was wearing. His eyes were a light blue that probably made his other patients feel safe. But all Carter could see was the sky being quickly overcome by gray smoke. He could hear grown men screaming in his ears, begging for death.

  He shut his eyes tight and stuck a finger in his ear, shaking the sound out.

  “Are you alright?” the doc asked.

  “Yeah,” Carter lied. “There’s just a ringing in my ear.”

  “That happens sometimes with PTSD,” the doctor said.

  “It also happens with hearing loss,” Carter grunted. “Which they tell me I have now.”

  “And how do you feel about that?” His expensive-looking pen was poised over his notepad.

  Carter shrugged. “Beats being dead.”

  “That, it does,” the doc agreed, scribbling something down. “Have you gone to see an audiologist about your hearing loss yet? Perhaps you could get fitted for an implant.”

  “You mean a hearing aid.”

  “Basically,” the doctor admitted. “But it would help.”

  “I’d rather learn sign language.” To demonstrate, he flipped the doctor off. “Are we done here?”

  “You’ve been here less than fifteen minutes.”

  “So?” Carter stood up.

  “The requirement is an hour per session.”

  Carter huffed as he fell back into his seat. “Great,” he said. “And how many sessions will it take to get me back to my station.”

  “As many as it takes for me to clear you for service.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic,” Carter sighed. “Any chance you can be swayed by a crisp hundred-dollar bill?”

  “None whatsoever. If I even witness you trying to bribe me, I am required by law to report it and you will be Dishonorably Discharged. Neither of us wants that.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “So, are you going to cooperate then?”

  “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  The doctor sighed and shook his head. “That’s progress, I guess,” he said, writing something else down on his notepad. Carter watched him, his head tilted in curiosity, though he didn’t bother to ask. He just continued to stare until his time was up.

  Then he stood, saluted the doctor, who, despite wearing a sweater, also had several badges pinned to his chest, showing that he, too, was a Navy Seal at one point in his life. He’d also earned a Purple Heart and, for the first time since entering the room, Carter noticed the cane resting against the side of his work desk.

  Neither of them mentioned the doctor’s limp as he walked Carter to the door.

  *****

  Carter received a text at exactly 1:50 from an unfamiliar number.

  Lunch?

  He was sitting in a darkened tavern, surrounded by several men in various types of military dress. He was wearing his own fatigues—a requirement for the mandated therapy sessions—and a beer sat in front of him, but he hadn’t taken more than two sips since he sat down. A few of his Navy buddies surrounded him; several of them were already three drinks in and starting to get rowdy. The barman didn’t even bat an eye when one of them broke a glass.

  Sorry, Carter texted back. Raincheck?

  His phone was barely in his pocket before the next text came through.

  Dinner? Really need to talk.

  Fine, he texted. What’s your apt #?

  It took less than five seconds.

  504.

  Meet you there at 8.

  Thai okay?

  He glanced up. All he’d eaten today was peanuts. Thai sounded pretty good right about now.

  Yeah. Need me to bring anything?

  Nope. I’ve got it covered. See you soon!

  Putting the phone on silent, he slipped it into his pocket and turned just as a body fell into the stool next to his, a big beefy hand slapping his shoulder. The man was built like a Mack truck, with a bushy auburn beard and gray eyes that were perpetually alight with humor.

  “McIntyre! Nice to see ya, man! You on leave or something?” Rusty Garner asked.

  “Something like that,” Carter retorted. “How about you? Taking time off for the wife and kids?”

  “Just a week,” Rusty informed him. “My wife’s mother died. Gotta hold her hand at the funeral and comfort the kids. You know how it is.”

  “No,” Carter said. “I really don’t.” He took his third sip of beer, but it had gone warm already.

  “Right,” Rusty laughed. “You’re the only bachelor left from our old platoon. Funny; I always thought you’d be the first to get snatched up by a lady. You always knew how to charm them.”

  “Yeah, well…” Carter shrugged, pushing the beer away.

  A moment of silence passed between them.

  “Hey, man, I heard about what happened with…everything. You alright?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Well, everybody knows how close you and Kane were,” Rusty started, but at Carter’s raised hand, he clamped his mouth shut.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he insisted.

  “Alright,” Rusty sighed. “Well, can I at least buy you a drink. It feels like forever since I last saw you.”

  “A shot would be okay,” Carter said. “But I’ve got a hot date tonight, so I don’t have time to get plastered like these idiots.” He motioned toward the other soldiers going to town on some tequila shots.

  “Let the kids have their fun,” he said. “They’re going back into a warzone soon. Who knows if they’ll even live to lose their virginity?”

  “Cheers to that,” Carter said, grabbing the shot the bartender set down in front of him and tapping it against Rusty’s glass. The larger man rumbled out a laugh.

&
nbsp; “Salud,” he said, before downing the shot.

  “Salud,” Carter echoed, with less enthusiasm.

  *****

  Liz’s attire for her dinner with Carter wasn’t anywhere near as sexy as what she had worn to his apartment the night before. Their meeting wasn’t about sex; it was about work. She even had a portfolio printed of all her best works. She’d had human subjects before; models that she had hired to pose for her in front of the landmarks she photographed, usually with their back to her.

  All the ones before Carter, however, were female. She had never worked with a man. Especially not one as beautiful as he.

  Not that she was nervous.

  Still, she spent nearly half an hour choosing between three shirts—all of which were nearly identical, save for the color and necklines. The red one was probably too seductive, she thought, and the neckline plunged deeper than the other two. It was usually her favorite because of the way it accentuated her figure, but she didn’t know if it would be too…distracting.

  She ran her fingers over the soft fabric, anyway, and decided that she could save it for a later date.

  The white one was nice and classic, but it was also a bit see-through. While this, too, was tempting, she decided against allowing Carter to see her bra through her shirt. If he could see that, his eyes might darken in that way that made heat pool between her legs as her nipples hardened. And there was no possible way for him to ignore that, she was certain.

  The blouse she chose had a low neckline, but it covered enough of her upper body to be professional and it fit her well. She looked attractive, but professional, and the blue complimented her complexion.

  The skirt she chose was a simple pencil skirt that stopped just above her knees. Her legs looked fantastic in it.

  She’d picked up Thai on her way home, ordering a variety of food as Carter had never even told her what he liked. She’d set the take-out bags down on the counter before making her way to the bedroom to get dressed. She walked as slowly as possible, reminding herself that this was a meeting; a professional business meeting about a professional arrangement. That was why she was wearing cotton instead of lace.