“A crazy one. Dude’s got a death wish. If I saw a grenade, I’d run away.”
“Right. That’s the thing. He was willing to die to save his friends. He has to be a good man, just messed up.”
Mirasol pursed her lips. “I guess. And let’s be real . . . his scars don’t bother you at all?”
I gulped. “I mean yeah, his scars are horrific. But it doesn’t matter. He’s still incredibly sexy.”
She downed the rest of her latte like it was a shot. “I know you admire him. But—and I don’t mean to be a bitch, honey—he’s not your mom. You can’t save him. After all the crap you’ve been through with your mom, you can’t be in a situation like that again. It wouldn’t be healthy. From what you told me, Grady needs help. Real help. I’m not saying that you guys could never find common ground, but I just don’t want you in danger.”
I turned my head away from her and stared out to the ocean, fixating on a rock with a bunch of brown pelicans perched on it. Marisol was right. I’d fought so hard to overcome my depression and fear, to stop blaming myself for not realizing my mom was hurting. But my healing came from within. Grady needed to find a way to live with his injuries and his memories. Playing house with him wouldn’t solve anything.
17
Grady
My buddies threw me a “going to fuck a reality star” party. I couldn’t believe Isa had actually agreed to my demands. As a show of good faith, I’d exchanged a few emails with her father and his agent. Her father was incredibly excited and passionate about the project, and I felt confident that he would completely dedicate himself and write an honest, heartfelt memoir. His agent was certain he could sell the memoir at auction for six figures—apparently the American public was hungry for “heroic tales of valor.” I embraced the idea of writing the book once I realized that I would be able to tell my story my way, without embellishing it. But I refused to sign the contract with the agent until after my vacation with Isa, just to make sure she kept her promise to me.
Some patriotic Silicon Valley multimillionaire I’d met at a fundraising function had offered to let me use his mansion, his vacation home, whenever I needed to get away. He owned a waterfront house in Incline Village. I’d initially told him there was no way I could accept his offer, but he’d said it was his honor to lend his home to a hero. I still felt uncomfortable being praised, but I thought some time to detox would do me some good. Better yet, a free house to fuck Isa in wasn’t the worst idea in the world. My favorite type of therapy.
Beau, Diego, and Trace all took leave for a few days to party with me in Tahoe before Isa arrived. These men were my brothers—we’d all fought together, we were the survivors of the attack.
Beau raised a bottle of Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale. “Here’s to the best Devil Dawg I know. Get some!”
We all drank, and the other men milled around the cabin. This place was sick. Had its own sandy beach, a hot tub on the deck, nestled in the pines. Maybe I could find some peace out here, besides losing myself in Isa’s pussy.
Beau smirked, his eyes reflecting on the lake behind him. “Man, I can’t believe you fucked Isa. She’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Yup. But she’s just another stuck-up celeb. She’s only agreeing to spend time with me if I let her dad write my memoir. I’m not doing the book for her, I’m doing it to tell my story and honor Rafael. And the money is nice. Maybe I can buy a place out here so I have somewhere to go since the Corps finally decided to kick my broke ass out.”
Beau placed his hand on my shoulder and I brushed it off. I was jealous of this motherfucker. Before my injury, the two of us would hit the clubs, compete to gain the attention of the hottest girl in the bar. There was no competition now—he’d win every time. He had everything going for him. He rocked his boy-band smile, was in perfect shape, had just completed sniper school, and had escaped our attack unscathed. He had a future in the Corps, for as long as he wanted it.
“Whatever, dude. The Corps medically retiring you is a good thing—groups will pay you to speak, politicians will milk your Medal of Honor for all it’s worth.”
I sighed. “But I don’t want that—I hate public speaking. I don’t want anyone pitying me. I want to go back overseas. I want to fight. I want some action.”
Beau again put his hand on my shoulder, and this time I didn’t remove it. “You’re looking at this all wrong. Write your book, rake in the cash, fuck your hottie girl, get out of the Corps, and you can do whatever you want. Hell, go on Dancing under the Stars and every bitch in America will want to fuck you.”
“Fuck that. You go on. You’d look good in the makeup and shit.”
“Whatever, man. I’m telling you. You’ve got it made.”
Easy for him to say—he still had his looks, his career. The career that should’ve been mine.
All my friends were living their dreams. Diego was going to McMap to be a Marine Martial Arts instructor, and Trace was going to be a Marine Security Guard at an Embassy. We were young Devil Dawgs—raised on Eminem and Facebook. Most of us had never even thought about life after the Corps. Do twenty years, retire, get a paycheck for life. If we were lucky, find a beautiful girl who wouldn’t fuck around on us while we were deployed.
“And, dude, no one pities you—they admire the fuck out of you. You saved my life, bro. I’d be dead without you. And I know you think any of us would’ve done the same thing—but you’re wrong. You’re the man.”
I shrugged him off of me. The world looked different to me now. I needed to navigate my new reality—find a career or job I could feel as passionate about. I believed everything happened for a reason—my injury, getting offered to write this book, meeting Isa. I had to figure out why God had allowed me to live.
18
Isa
The wait was over, my time alone with Grady would start today.
I’d flown into Reno this morning and spent the past hour driving my rental car to Lake Tahoe. He’d offered to pick me up at the airport, but I insisted on renting a car. I wanted to not be dependent on him just in case anything went wrong.
Even so, he would be in control.
In other words, he would be my master.
As I approached Incline Village, I marveled at the beauty of the emerald bay. I rolled down the window—the scent of freshly fallen pine needles mixed with the mountain air tickled my nostrils. I needed this retreat. A time to relax, read some books, finish that Christmas needlepoint stocking I’d been working on for years—I could definitely think of worse ways to spend the week, especially since I was still unable to enroll for fall quarter. I’d applied for a loan, but because I’d missed the deadline, I wouldn’t be able to attend.
But there was nothing I could do about that now. All I could hope for was that this week with Grady would go smoothly, that we would have a great time at the ball, and that he would keep his promise and let my dad write his book.
And maybe, something deeper would develop with Grady.
I followed the navigation system and pulled in front of a towering log cabin with a view of the lake.
I took a deep breath, steadied my nerves, and walked to the magnificent door. It was gorgeous—hand-carved, mahogany featuring a bear eating honey from a tree.
I pressed the doorbell, and Grady opened the door. His muscles bulged out of his T-shirt but seeing his scars in the light sent a shock through my core. I gasped, in spite of myself.
Grady’s fingers pressed deeper into my flesh, and I let out a yelp.
“You’re mine now, baby. And this time you can’t run away. You’re going to be forced to look at me every day.” His voice was urgent and dripping with sex.
His eye shot a dagger at me and then he finally released me.
I gulped.
I’d hurt him.
He must’ve thought the only reason I wanted to see him was to ask him to do the memoir.
But that wasn’t true. As much as Grady scared me, I was drawn to him.
Before I could
speak, he’d turned and disappeared into the cabin, slamming the carved wooden bear door behind him.
I didn’t know whether I should be flattered or scared or pissed off.
The only thing I did know was the heat of his body next to mine had made me ache to be with him again.
19
Grady
All 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 co
ntrolled 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.
BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance Page 9
