BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance (44 page)

I relaxed into his embrace. Having his warm mouth claim mine would be even better than finally seeing the flash. We’d kissed at the hotel, but I’d pulled away, worried, a deep longing kiss would be too intimate, too risky. But now…

He held my hand. “You want to get out of here?”

“Yes. I want to go together with you.”

I texted the girls I had brought, and they all told me they could find rides home. Grant and I would be alone tonight.

T
HE ENTIRE DRIVE BACK
TO his apartment, I bit my nails and fidgeted in my seat. There was no going back now. The natural progression of our relationship beckoned for us to become intimate. I wanted him to act out all the fantasies I’d ever had about him. Only the thought of him discovering my identity held me back.

Images rushed my head of our tame sex life. Warm, gentle, loving, definitely not hot. He’d been my first, my only. I’d never allowed myself to relax, exhale, let pleasure guide me.

Tonight would be different. I was no longer a shy eighteen-year-old virgin—I was now a twenty-two-year-old woman who feared nothing but failing her brother.

He parked, and I hopped out of his truck, chasing after him in the moonlight. He went ahead, opened the door to his apartment, let Hero out in the small yard, and then invited me in. I remembered the first time he took me back to his place. He’d been so nervous, shy even. We’d sat on the sofa, just talking all night until he finally worked up the courage to kiss me.

He wasn’t shy anymore. His strong hand grabbed the back of my head, pulling me toward his mouth. I offered my neck, refusing my lips. I had something else planned for them.

My hand reached to unbutton his jeans, making its way down his chest. I knelt before him, and a deep breath escaped me. I’d never done what I was about to do. Grant had never asked, though I could recall many times that he placed his hand on the back of my neck, gently urging me to go south. Not that I hadn’t loved him, not that I didn’t think he was beautiful, not that I wasn’t curious. I couldn’t even explain my resistance. It had been just as much about fear as it had been about shyness. Despite his desire, I was afraid I’d disappoint him. I was frightened that the fantasy of me taking him in my mouth would be better than the real thing.

I popped his jeans open, his huge cock freed, standing at full attention. He still never wore underwear, it seemed. That at least hadn’t changed. My hand grasped his beautiful cock, harder, thicker, and longer than I remembered, but then again, I’d never seen it from this viewpoint.

“Suck me.”

I obeyed, responding to his orders. But despite his words, his dominance, I was in control. I wrapped my palm around his base, and swirled my tongue along his length. He groaned, his eyes hooded.

“Harder, babe.”

My mouth clamped down on his cock, sucking as strongly as I could. He tasted spicy and a tad sweet—like chili and chocolate. I wanted to drink him up, please him, make him need me again.

A groan left his lips, his back arched. “Deeper, Ksenya. Fuck.”

He didn’t know I was Mia. I was Ksenya to him. It almost made me cry, knowing he wasn’t in any way thinking of me. He was simply using yet another woman to give him pleasure. My heart ached.

Despite that, I also felt a measure of pride. He liked what I was doing. My confidence rose. The power over him caused a flutter in my stomach. My panties were soaked, wanting more, wanting to feel this same strong cock inside me, filling up any space between us.

He was pulsing inside my mouth. I gripped his thighs, pulling him deeper into my throat.

His hand pressed on the back of my head. “Ksenya, stop, I…”

I had no intention of stopping. He was mine. My man. Forever. I wanted to be the only woman to make him feel this way.

He exploded into my mouth, and I lapped his salty cum up, wanting to taste every last drop of him. A lazy grin spread across his face.

“You’re incredible.” He pulled me up from the floor, placed his arms around the swell of my back. “Your turn.”

No. No way. I needed to remain in control. I’d won the first round, no reason to give in now. I fought the desire to feel his tongue devour me like I was his last meal. “Tonight it was for you.”

He didn’t fight me, gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Stay with me?”

I nodded, wrapped myself in his arms. This was the only way I could spend time with him, so I would treasure it and lock it away.

I
GAZED
AT THE GIRL in my arms, purring beside me. She’d just given me an amazing blowjob, though I could tell she wasn’t that experienced. She seemed nervous at first, almost shy. And she asked for nothing in return.

I wiped the sleep out of my eyes, restless but afraid to move and wake her. What was her deal? She wasn’t a typical stripper. She wasn’t asking for anything—money, a commitment, not even love. I didn’t have a fucking clue what she wanted from me. There had to be a catch.

Her body flipped over, and I escaped from the bed. I glanced around my bedroom, typical bachelor pad; any trace of a woman had been erased. My eyes focused on a picture of Joaquín. We’d survived Hell Week together, vowed to hold each other up, never let each other quit. Then he’d slept with a stripper and she’d wound up dead. How could I be dumb enough to tempt fate and allow a stripper in my bed too?

A pain grew in the back of my throat. I hated myself for not being there for him in his hour of need.

Just a few years ago, my life had been filled with such purpose. My inner circle was tight, and I’d been secure in my path.

Now I knew that nobody was who he or she appeared to be. Not my fellow SEALs or this stripper slumbering in my bed. I trusted no one. Not even myself.

I opened the sliding glass door, prepared to prevent Hero from barking at Ksenya and jumping all over the bed—the way he always greeted a stranger.

Hero bounced in the door, his nose sniffing Ksenya’s scent. But he didn’t jump. A friendly bark, and he lay at the end of the bed, Ksenya curled in a ball on the mattress above him. He’d never done that with any girl I’d brought home.

Except for Mia.

I studied the chick in front of me. She and Mia were the same height, but any resemblance ended there. Mia was soft and round, with tiny breasts and a perky butt; Ksenya was lean and sculpted, with tig ol’ bitties and a plump ass. Mia had hazel eyes with flecks of gold, and Ksenya had chocolate brown eyes.

But I’d noticed the outline of her contacts in the moonlight earlier. Ksenya bit her lips when she was nervous. When she smiled, her mouth curled at the edge. On the left side. Like Mia.

A crazy thought flashed through my head—what if Mia hadn’t been fucking kidding about transforming herself to exonerate Joaquín? Could she possibly be that insane to get plastic surgery to fool me? Mia had been in school for acting. I’d never seen her onstage since I’d always been too busy training. It was impossible for her to be that great of an actress, wasn’t it?

She had vanished—I’d even called her roommates, and they said they didn’t have a clue where she went. But I knew she would never abandon her brother, ever. Even though she had turned her back on me.

No way. No fucking way.

But it was hard to ignore Hero’s reaction to her. He almost seemed to…
know
her. Surely it couldn’t be? Was this a game?

From the outset, Ksenya had targeted me. But why? Did she suspect me of killing Tiffany? Did she want to use me to find out who did? She wasn’t in it to fuck me. Otherwise the deed would have been done already.

You’re crazy, Grant. Not everything is a conspiracy.
After BUD/S, it took me months to walk down the street and not look at everyone as a potential threat. I was clearly paranoid.

There was only one way to know for sure.

I had to fuck her.

I
DON’T TRUST
THE NAKED woman asleep in my bed, the one with the bombshell body and eerily symmetrical face. The edge of her mouth curls when she smiles, she smells like citrus, she bites her lips when she lies.

This imposter is lying to me—she claims she’s a Ukrainian stripper named Ksenya, but I’d bet my Trident that she’s my ex-girlfriend Mia, her face and body masked with plastic surgery. Her brother is in jail for murdering a stripper, and she must have kept her promise that she’d stop at nothing to exonerate him.

But I’m not going to call her bluff. Hell, no. I’m going to play her game, test her strength, see how far she’s willing to go to keep up this ruse.

My beloved girl who shuddered at the thought of lowering her inhibitions is playing my game now. She wants to get wild? I will fulfill her every fantasy.

But I control the game now, not her. It will end when I say it ends.

I’m a Navy SEAL, and I will be the last one standing.

I
WOULD LIKE
TO THANK the love of my life, my husband, Roger, a real Marine hero. Thank you for being such a wonderful husband to me and the best daddy to our sons. For watching the boys while I write. For keeping me caffeinated during late night writing sessions. I love you.

To Linda Barlow: for your keen editing insights, late night pep talks, and hilarious commentary. This book would’ve been a mess without you.

To Mia Searles: For your amazing work on the blog tour.

To Nicole Blanchard: For listening to my endless rants and encouraging (forcing) me to finish it.

To Regina Wamba: For the creating the most amazing cover.

I would like to thank my editors for turning this book into what it was meant to be:

Deb Nemeth—your endless patience reading the many different versions of this book.

Lisa Christman—for your insight into Grady’s characterization.

To my betas: Jenny Negron, Melissa Fisher, & Brittney Crabtree: thank you all for your honest critiques and making this the best story it could be.

To my two beautiful sons, Connor and Caleb for your smiles, your laughter, your hugs and kisses.

To Indie Sage Promotions for handling all the promotion for the book.

To all the fans who have written me wonderful emails. I write for you.