Page 73 of Jenna's Protector
I don’t know, and I don’t like feeling this way. I’m not some helpless damsel in distress.
When I was building a new life for myself at the Facility, they told us we weren’t victims—we weren’t allowed to use that word—we were victors, and I’ve always liked that way of looking at things.
I’m not a victim of my past, but victorious over it.
But…
The reality of the situation crashes over me, and the fear I’ve been trying to suppress rises to the surface.
Am I really as strong as I believe?
Doubt creeps in, whispering that maybe, just maybe, I’m not as victorious as I’ve tried to convince myself.
In an instant, Carter’s there, pulling me tight against his chest, his embrace tight and fierce.
“I know, baby. I know. I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it.”
I cling to him, drawing strength from the solid warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. For a moment, the world falls away, and it’s just us, two people holding onto each other in the face of the unknown.
The safety I feel in his arms is profound.
After a brief and tasteless dinner—the evening’s events robbed me of my appetite—Carter and I retire to bed. He holds me through the night, his presence reassuring.
His arms around me—a shield.
His breath against my hair—a reminder I’m not alone.
But closeness stirs our desire.
What begins as a comforting embrace deepens into something more. Cuddling turns to kissing, kissing turns to touching, and touching turns into an exploration of the bond we share. His lips are soft yet insistent against mine, a silent promise of protection and love.
Desperate hands and fervent kisses become physical affirmations of the love that binds us together. My fingers trace the contours of his face, memorizing every line and curve, while his hands roam my back, pulling me closer. Each kiss is an expression of need and reassurance, our breaths mingling in the space between us.
“I need you,” I whisper against his lips, the vulnerability in my voice echoing the longing in my heart.
“I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”
Our movements are slow and deliberate. The outside world fades, leaving only the warmth of our bodies and the intensity of our emotions. In the darkness, we find refuge in each other.
The physical becomes a bridge to the emotional. Our bond deepens, not just in passion but in the silent promises we make with every touch.
His hands are gentle yet firm, guiding me, holding me, and cherishing me. In his arms, I find peace I didn’t know was possible.
When we finally lie still, our breaths heavy and intertwined, Carter’s presence banishes the darkness. I rest my head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a peaceful slumber, safe in the knowledge that, together, we can face anything.
That night, there are no dreams.
No nightmares.
Nothing to disturb my slumber.
Morning comes, and with it, a renewed sense of determination. Carter walks me to the café, Max trotting along happily beside us, sniffing at everything in his path. Carter stays with me as I go through the familiar motions of opening up. His eyes constantly scan the street outside.
There is no sedan. No sign of that man.
About an hour later, a massively muscled man enters the café. I remember him from the meeting at Guardian HRS, but his name escapes me. He and Carter shake hands, a silent communication passing between them. Carter turns to me, his hand resting reassuringly on the small of my back.
“Jenna, you remember Walt?”