BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance (10 page)

A
ll I had wanted was
to spend some time with her, and I’d promised myself I would try to start fresh. But seeing her outside, looking so damn sexy, triggered rage inside me. Rage that she would never be mine, rage that she was only here because I’d forced her hand, rage that she was only agreeing to be around me so she’d have enough money to finish school. I wanted her to choose to stay with me because she wanted me, not because she felt being fucked by me was the only way to save her father’s ass after he stole her money.

My solitude was short-lived. Isa cautiously opened the door and headed to the sofa. Her scent filled the room—she smelled like whipped cream and strawberries.

She was wearing a tight-fitting yellow sweat suit and flip-flops with rhinestones. Despite her incredible body and heart-shaped face, she didn’t look fake or hard like a few of the celebrities and models I had met. Her smile was very genuine and I had yet to see her in heavy makeup.

We were alone together. Truly alone.

I sat on the distressed leather sofa and just stared at the lake. My ears pounded and I cracked my knuckles.

If she wanted to, she could talk.

It only took her a few minutes.

“Can we talk? I really want to start this weekend off in a good place.”

“Shoot.”

“Okay. I want you to know that I’m not just here because of the deal with my dad. I want to be here. I want to get to know you.”

I didn’t believe her. Words were cheap. She would have to show me that she truly wanted to spend time with me. It would probably help if I stopped being such a dick.

“And the only reason I left after we hooked up that night was because I panicked,” she said.

“Panicked about what? I thought you left because you thought I was suicidal. Did you think I was going to hurt you?”

The color drained from her face, but she made strong eye contact. “For a second, yes, I believed it was possible. I mean, you had a loaded gun, were drinking, had a flashback. But not just that. I didn’t really see hope for anything beyond one night with you. I’m attracted to you. You have the best body I’ve ever seen, you’re incredible in bed, and I don’t mind your scars. Honestly, I don’t—they actually make you sexy. But you told me you didn’t believe in therapy. Neither did my mom. I’m not a psychologist, and I don’t know you that well, but I really think you need to find some type of therapy that works.”

So I had actually been wrong about her; she hadn’t wanted to save me; she’d wanted nothing to do with me. And she saw me as someone who couldn’t even take care of myself.

Though she’d saved my life by taking that bullet, I’d never admit my moment of weakness to her. Once I told her I’d attempted suicide, she’d probably bolt again.

I tried another approach.

“Look, I’ve tried every medicine I’ve been given, every talk therapy. Honest to God, nothing has worked. But I’m open. I don’t want to live like this.”

Her face seemed to shine. “That makes me happy.”

My promise to attempt more therapy seemed to soften Isa. Her shoulders relaxed and she moved closer to me on the sofa. I put my arm around her and pulled her into me. This was more like it.

“How did you find out I was on
Dancing under the Stars
?”

“I saw your picture in a magazine at my doctor’s office. Well,
Bella’s
picture, but I’d recognize you anywhere. But I think it’s cool. I’d love to see you dance.”

She shook her head. “I’ll dance with you at the ball, but I doubt I’ll ever compete again or dance like that.”

“Why’d you quit?”

She paused and stared distantly toward the lake. “After my mom died, it was too painful. She was a dancer. Every time I stepped on the floor, I’d search for her in the audience. I needed to figure out who I was without dancing, without her, without my partner.”

She paused on the word “partner.” Had that douche been her boyfriend? The thought of that slimy motherfucker touching Isa made me want to break his skinny legs. At least she wasn’t still dancing. I would never tell a woman to quit her passion, but I was certain I couldn’t handle watching another man grope my woman, wrap his hands around her waist, stroke her thighs. I’d seen that show, the tiny costumes she wore, the seductive dances they did—I’d be too consumed with jealousy to have anyone I was dating be on it.

“And the book? You feel okay with writing about what happened?”

“Yup. You were right. I want to tell my story, my way. And I need the money. I’m pretty fucked up, physically and mentally. I have to prepare for my future, especially since I’m about to get kicked out of the Corps.”

Her eyes opened wide. “I’m sorry, Grady. I had no idea. You’ll find a new career to make you happy.”

My head bobbed forward. She didn’t know shit about what made me happy. I was a warrior—that was the only thing that had mattered in my life.

“So, I’ve emailed your dad a few times and talked to him on the phone. He seems pretty cool—for a thief.”

“Ha.” She hesitated. “He’s okay. He’s going through a rough time—he really needs this break, so thank you again. Don’t worry—he’ll do a great job on your memoir.”

I winced. A father should protect and provide for his daughter, and here Isa was the one taking care of her dad, a man who’d stolen from her. But their fucked up relationship wasn’t my problem. At least she had a parent in her life. “I won’t tell him. This is the only thing I’m good for now—telling heroic war stories. Instead of shooting guns, I’m being wheeled out like a Smithsonian exhibit to make politicians feel guilty about the war and to open their wallets up.”

Her chin dipped down. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like I’m just another person who is using you. Maybe this was a stupid idea—I should’ve never asked you. Maybe we should just forget this whole idea. I feel like such a bitch.”

Damn, did this girl always try to run at the first sign of trouble?

Her chest heaved, and I decided to stop being such an asshole. I wanted her, however I could have her. I was going to give this relationship, or whatever it was, everything I had.

I moved closer to her and put my arm around her. “Stay, but it’s your choice, I’m not going to force you. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe here with me. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about our night—how you screamed my name, how sweet you taste.”

“I want to . . . I just think we moved too fast. I’d like to take some time, move slowly. Let our emotional connection catch up with our physical connection.”

I hopped off the couch and stood in front of her, our bodies inches from touching. “We’ve already slept together, baby. And I plan to fuck you every night for as long as you’re here. In fact, I’m gonna fuck you now.” I pulled her to me, needing to feel the heat of her body. “You can’t deny how hot we were together. Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t dreamt of me, that your body doesn’t miss my touch, that you don’t ache for me.”

She looked down at her toes. “I—I want to, but I’m scared. It’s complicated. Once a picture of us gets out in the press, everything will change, you’ll see. We’re both in the public eye. People will make up stories about us. We’ll be in the tabloids. Fans, people, think they know us. They think they own you.”

“I own you.” I cupped her face and kissed her, and a shot of heat rose to my cock.

She kissed me back, deep, passionate kisses, kisses that assured me that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

I ran my hands through her hair. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“You, I want you. All of you.”

I controlled my breathing, wanting to take my time with her, not rush. I picked her up and placed her on the long oak coffee table.

I unzipped her sweat suit, and removed her tank top. I had never seen anything sexier than her yellow lace bra with a red bow in the middle of her ample cleavage.

I licked at her nipples through the fabric, sucking and tugging slowly until she moaned. I unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts.

She spread her legs and I slipped my arm around her waist, pulling down her pants. Matching yellow lace panties—it truly was my lucky night.

“Talk to me baby, what do you need from me?”

I could tease her all night. I dusted her with kisses, making her come alive with my mouth. I licked her thighs, around the lace border of her panties, pressing my lips to her heat, desperate to taste her.

“I—I want your tongue.”

Yes ma’am.
I hooked the edge of her panties and removed them. My tongue moved, licking her lips, savoring her taste. The image of her rubbing her nipples, her body reacting to my mouth was almost enough to make me come right then.

I pulled a condom out of my pocket, and quickly undressed. She stood up and I rolled the condom over my cock. I sat on the sofa. “Straddle me.”

She flipped her hair out of her face and climbed on lap, slowly guiding my cock inside of her. She gasped when I slammed her deep.

I kissed her neck, buried my head into her chest and sucked on her nipples, my other hand squeezing her amazing ass. She rode me, controlling the rhythm, tossing her head back, rubbing her clit against me. The reflection on her incredible body in the window, knowing that someone could be watching us, made the moment even hotter.

“That’s it, baby. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Her pace quickened, and I was dying to make her come harder than she ever had before. I rubbed her clit, licking her nipples, until I knew she was close, so fucking close.

“Oh, Grady, oh baby.”

She let out a deep moan and I could feel her pussy clench. I let myself go also, the intensity of my own orgasm shocking me.

She climbed off of me and I went to the bathroom to throw away the condom.

When I returned, she’d put back on her clothes.

“Where am I sleeping tonight?”

I quickly dressed. I wasn’t ready for her to sleep next to me. I didn’t want to scare her with my night terrors. “In the guest room. Get your rest. You’ll need it.”

I went out to her car, grabbed her bags, and returned to Isa.

I opened the door to the spare bedroom. Her eyes opened wide.

“This place is beautiful.”

She gave me a hug and I held her tightly.

“You can go anywhere except up to the third floor where I sleep, unless I invite you. I don’t sleep much, but if I’m lucky enough to crash, I don’t want to be awakened. If you need me, just press the intercom, and I’ll come downstairs.”

“Okay. Good night.”

I gave her a sweet kiss, the first kiss we shared that didn’t lead to sex. Then I held her tighter than I’d ever held anyone. Why did she feel so good when nothing was right? Why did I want her so badly? Could she really be the one woman who could make me feel like a man again?

“Isa, I’m really glad you’re here.”

I
exhaled
, relieved that Grady and I had been able to have a good talk. Just the switch that I was now here by choice, not under coercion, alleviated my anxiety. I wanted to be here. Grady wanted me here. We were both going to explore if we had more than just a physical connection.

My room was as nice as any hotel room I’d ever stayed in when I was competing. It had a stone fireplace, a huge spa tub, and a king-sized wooden bed covered with a bear-patterned quilt.

I drew myself a hot bath and slipped into the soothing water. My breath quickened when I reminded myself that I was naked in the same house with Grady. Maybe there were cameras in this place and he was watching me. That thought excited me—my chest heaved as I imagined Grady finding me naked in the tub, his strong hands exploring every inch of my body. Being around Grady brought out all my fantasies.

Once the water turned cold, I quickly dressed in my pajamas and relaxed in the bed, excited for the next day. My nerves eventually calmed down . . . until I heard a scream in the middle of the night.

Well, at least I thought it had been a scream. I sat up in my bed, startled, breathless, but eventually realized it probably had been a nightmare and fell back asleep.

The scent of bacon wafted through my bedroom and roused me from what had actually been the best sleep I’d had recently, despite being awakened by the noise in the dark. For once, I didn’t wake a few times during the night to worry about paying my tuition, didn’t have to sleep with the windows open because my dorm didn’t have air conditioning, nor did I have to drown out the noise from the freeway that ran parallel to my place. Instead, the sound of birds chirping, the warmth of the fire, and the peace of knowing that there was a chance I’d still be able to still graduate swept me into a blissful dreamland.

I headed into the bathroom, wondering if Grady was waiting for me. After washing my face, and brushing my teeth, I examined my outfit, which consisted of a tank top and fuzzy pajama bottoms. For a second I had an urge to flee, giving in to my anxiety, but I instead opened the door.

Ay dios mío!

The sight of Grady cooking breakfast made me drool. He wore gray sweatpants and a tight, long-sleeved thermal shirt that hugged his muscular body.

“Good morning, sexy.”

“Morning.” The sunlight beamed through a skylight and I took the time to study the cabin. A huge staircase led upstairs to a loft area, a gourmet kitchen beckoned me, and a beautiful stone fireplace warmed the room. This place had to be worth at least a million dollars.

“Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”

I sat on the leather sofa, staring out through the windows toward the lake. “Water would be great, thank you.”

I watched him walk in the kitchen and noticed a slight limp that I hadn’t seen before. I tried not to stare, but my mind refused to quiet with all the questions I had.

He emerged from the kitchen carrying coffee, a glass of water and a dozen red roses.

Swoon.

I sat at the breakfast table. He placed the glass of water down and leaned into me and handed me the roses.

“These are for you.”

My belly quivered, pleasantly surprised by the sweet gesture. I inhaled the scent of the roses. “You’re so sweet. Thanks for the roses. They’re beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

My heart fluttered.

“Are you hungry?”

I nodded. He returned to the kitchen and plated an omelet, bacon, and fresh fruit. Coffee was awaiting me at the table. I’d been single since I’d left the show, and I couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of me.

It was hard for me to accept.

“You really didn’t have to do this. I can cook for you if you like. Maybe I can go grocery shopping later today? I make killer chicken enchiladas.”

“Let’s relax today. How did you sleep?”

“Great. It’s so peaceful here.”

I took a sip of my coffee and tasted the omelet. I detected a hint of goat cheese and some fresh herbs. It was delicious. “So, have you decided what you’re going to do when you get out?”

“No.”

“After the book comes out, I’m sure you’ll be asked to do interviews. I can give you some media tips.”

He squinted his eye. “Not interested. I’m going to tell my story once and then vanish until I decide what I want to do with my life. I don’t want to be that guy who spends the rest of his life capitalizing on this one event.”

“Right, I get that, but people just want to hear your story. It’s so inspiring.”

“Look, I see you staring at my hand and my eyeball. I’m clearly fucked up—but I’m sick to death of talking about it. Ever since it happened, that incident has been my entire life. Every person I meet fixates on my injuries and the circumstances surrounding them. Before I was maimed, I was just a normal man. I want to be him again. The minute anyone sees me, or finds out who I am, they treat me differently. Everyone does. You do.”

Wow. That was kind of deep.

“Okay. I understand. But I don’t treat you differently because of how you look—I treat you differently because of what you did. But I do get what you’re saying. When I was dancing, everyone expected me to look and act a certain way. Sometimes I just wanted to be a normal girl.”

“Exactly.” His gaze focused on my chest and I realized I wasn’t wearing a bra.

“So, I know we discussed this last night, but I want to be clear of your expectations. We’re just getting to know each other?”

I anxiously awaited his response, hoping I was reading this situation correctly. “I still have the ball to go to in November. You’ll pretend to be my girlfriend for the event. But I’ll be honest with you, Isa—you’re insanely hot, and you seem sweet, but I’m not looking for a serious relationship until I can figure out my life. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

A tingling swept across my face, and I couldn’t help faking a smile to mask my disappointment in his answer.

“Got it. Me too, I mean with the serious relationship thing. I want to focus on graduating from college. So what does pretending to be your girlfriend entail, besides the incredible sex?”

He laughed, reached over the table, and grabbed my hand, his deep red scars contrasting with my pale skin. “I’m a man, you’re hot, of course I want to fuck you every chance I get. But I need our arrangement to be drama-free.”

Damn. Well, glad we cleared that up. But I had to admit, the intensity in his voice, the strength in his hand, the delicious way he said
fuck
, made every part of me ache for him.

“Good to know. I assume I’ll meet some of your friends before the ball so we can pull this off?”

His lips curled, but since half of his face was covered in scars, I couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. “You assume correctly. Any more questions or can I finish my fucking breakfast?”

Definitely annoyed. I flinched. I’d clearly pushed too hard. “Of course. Sorry for the interrogation.”

We ate in silence. As I savored each bite, I wondered what the ball would be like. There had been a time in my life that I’d spent dressing up, going to ballroom competitions, enjoying meeting new people. But I hadn’t been that person in years.

He stood up from his chair, his hand trembling, his face now pale. “I don’t feel well. I’m going to go up to my room.”

“Are you okay? Do you need to go to the doctor?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, what should I do?”

He leveled me with his eye. “Read a book.” His voice was gruff, unsettled, and tinged with anger.

I finished my breakfast quickly and retreated to my room. Well, Mr. Nice Guy bearing flowers hadn’t lasted long. I was probably already annoying him. But I felt better knowing his intentions. To be a respectable girlfriend for hire. We clearly had to get to know each other to pull the charade off.

That night Grady grilled burgers, still not allowing me to cook for him. He pounded beers all night, and we barely spoke a word. The tension hung thick in the air. Yes, we’d had sex, incredible sex, but we didn’t know each other at all. Basically, I was holed away in a cabin with a stranger. The full scenario was simultaneously nerve wracking and unbelievably hot.

I was also struggling to understand his reactions toward me. He probably couldn’t stand me and was regretting inviting me as much as I was second guessing coming here.

After dinner, he retired to his room with a curt goodnight, didn’t even try to get intimate with me. I felt so undesirable, but I had to remind myself that I was the one who asked him to take it slowly.

I also felt useless. I’d never just sat around. I wanted to clean the house, organize something, be productive. Instead, I went down to the basement, sat on the sofa, and turned on the television.

A scream roused me from my sleep. This time I was absolutely certain it was a scream, not a nightmare. I must’ve crashed watching the movie. Dammit. I woke up shivering, forgetting for a second where I was.

I ran upstairs, worried that maybe there was an intruder, or Grady had been hurt. The main floor was eerily quiet. The hair on my arm stood up, and I made the decision to go against his orders and creep upstairs to the third floor. When I reached his room, the door was shut. I debated knocking, but before I could make a decision, I heard another groan.

What was going on in there? I knew that groan—it was the sound my mother had made when she was in agony, when her migraines were so intense that she was sobbing in pain.

My chest stuttered, so I listened by the door, praying not to get caught. After a few seconds of silence, another moan—deep, guttural, haunting. Definitely not of the sexual variety—it was as if he was being tortured.

Suddenly, I heard muffled footsteps that seemed to be coming closer on the other side of the door. Heart pounding, I quickly hurried back downstairs to my room.

Damn, how could I be so insensitive? Giving him a hard time about not trying therapy when he clearly had been injured. He was still coping with so much physical pain that maybe he couldn’t even begin to deal with his emotional pain.

I vowed to just try to live in the here and now, be more sensitive and less anxious, and not interrogate him. No more rules, from him or from me. I would for once allow myself to be in the moment.