“Thank you. I love them.” We stood up and I wrapped my arms around his neck. His strong arms encircled my waist, and for a moment, I thought he would kiss me. But he released me instead.
Grady went to the formal dining room, and started pushing the table and chairs to the walls.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
He didn’t answer.
My mind was still trying to process that this gruff man, the one who barely wanted to talk to me a few days ago, was the same one who would buy me such a thoughtful gift. I was so overwhelmed that it took me a few minutes to realize what he was doing.
He was making me a ballroom.
“Let me see you dance.”
“I—I don’t have any music.”
“Name a song.”
I contemplating picking a cool song to impress him but just decided to go with a classic rumba. “‘I’m Not Giving You Up’ by Gloria Estefan.”
He fiddled on his phone and then plugged it into a speaker.
Grady placed a lone chair in the corner of the room. “Dance for me.”
Once the first note of the haunting rumba played, I knew I was back like I’d never skipped a day. That was the universal truth for dancers. No matter what the reason was you quit, no matter how many times you swore you would never return, one step onto that dance floor and your soul became whole again.
My body remembered every rhythmic rumba beat, my toes recalled every jive flick, and my arms reminisced every time I placed them in a paso doble battle pose. My gut wrenched—I’d had no clue how much I’d missed this part of my life.
But my reclaimed joy terrified me. One tap of my toes on the sprung hardwood floor, and I wanted to lose myself in the music.
My toes traced the floor during the rumba walks, my core settled into the beat. I danced as much for Grady as I did for myself.
Grady focused on me, his gaze steady, never looking away. Over the years I’d danced for so many people, in many shows and competitions, but I never had danced solely for the eyes of another man. I danced toward him, shimmied my hips near his face, teasing him gently. I wasn’t a stripper, this wasn’t a lap dance, but the energy between us was passionate. I yearned for him to stand up, take me on the floor, expose his secrets to me.
I turned away from him, but his strong arms pulled me back. He pushed me onto his lap, grinding me down on his hard cock. His hand pulled my hair, pressing me into his lips. I kissed him back, high off the urgency, his beard tickling my skin. His lips were powerful yet soft, just like him. All my misgivings about getting close to him were fading, as I was melting into him. Our kiss was equal parts illicit and comforting. But the intensity of my emotions spooked me—I pushed him off of me, tears welling in my eyes.
As the song ended, emptiness filled me. My body chilled, one taste of my obsession with the beat, and I’d be drowning in a sea of rhinestones before I could help myself. Like an addict in recovery, I feared I’d be unable to quit after one dance.
And I knew I’d be unable to quit Grady after our time together was over.
25
Grady
I loved watching Isa dance, the way her body swayed with the music, as if she was dancing just for me.
But I needed a change of scenery.
As much as I loved the lake house, the place was a bit too pretentious for me. I wanted to be out in the wilderness, camping in nature. Luckily Isa was game, so the next day after lunch we drove to a local campground that had small cabins. It was beautiful, so rustic, so removed from the world. This place was simple, humble, and more my style. It reminded me of vacationing in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. The cabin we rented here was unfortunately named “The Honeymoon Cabin.” It was constructed with knotty pine, contained a simple stove, refrigerator, and a queen bed made with a rustic quilt. Outside on the pine needle-covered ground were a barbecue, picnic table, and campfire pit.
We checked in and relaxed in the cabin for a bit. I’d planned to grill some burgers, down a few beers, and then spend all night fucking Isa.
But she had other plans.
“Wow, it’s gorgeous up here, Grady. Let’s go on a walk around the campsite.”
I hesitated. It was seventeen hundred. A gorgeous, late summer sunset.
I suddenly had a strong urge to remain in the cabin. But I chose not to listen to my gut. I could do this.
“Sure.”
I wrapped my arms around her slender waist and went outside. For the first few minutes, I enjoyed the mountain air, the sweet, smoky smell of ribs from a neighboring barbecue, the comfortable silence between Isa and me. We walked around the grounds, weaving in between cabins, trees, picnic tables, and a tiny creek.
Then it happened again.
The roar of plane engines overhead, the towering mountains in the distance, the scent of dust mixed with diesel, the chill of the wind on my face, the haunting glow of the sunset highlighting the sky.
I choked on the air and fear penetrated my soul.
Fuck.
The perfect blend of the elements had triggered every sense in my core.
The rapid beating of my heart pulsed through my chest.
My gut clenched and dread overtook me. Like some fucked up time warp, my mind was back in Iraq, trapped in an eternal hell that I could never escape.
“Grady, you okay?”
But I could barely hear her words—my ears were echoing with my screams, the screams of my fellow Marines. I could see Rafael’s face as the bullet hit him, his brains splattered around me. The heat of the bomb underneath me. Counting down until my death.
10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
I needed to get the fuck out of here. But no matter where I went, I would never flee this terror.
But almost as soon as it had started, my flashback was over.
Fuck.
“Grady, babe, let’s go back.”
I wiped the sweat beads from my forehead with my clammy hands and attempted to steady my breathing. My fingers tore at my clothes, ripping my shirt, wanting to relieve the pressure from my chest.
Flashback. I’d had another flashback. They’d never go away. This was my new reality; my fucked up brain didn’t respond to any of the drugs or talk therapy I’d been given. In the movies or in books, it was made to seem like flashbacks were movies in one’s mind or images of dead friends. Yes, I relived that night vividly in my nonstop nightmares. Though I couldn’t speak for all other vets, for me a flashback was more than a film playing in my head. Sights, scents, sounds. A primal feeling that I was in grave danger, that I would never be safe, that everyone I loved would be taken from me. That I was helpless. As if I were entombed in an unbreakable dark box underwater, suffocating and gasping for air. All taking me back to a night I didn’t want to remember, to a night I’d never forget.
26
Isa
I grasped Grady’s hand, and the sweat from his palms seeped into mine. His face registered a blank stare and I could see his breath in the cold night air puffing short, labored breaths.
Within minutes, we were back at the cabin. Grady sat in a chair and I turned the stove on to make him tea.
He exhaled. “I’m sorry, I—” His words were sharp and staccato.
I cut him off. “No, babe, you have nothing to be sorry about. We don’t have to talk about it unless you want to.”
I wanted to talk. I wished I could climb into his mind and erase his memories of war.
Maybe he could return the favor. Erase the memories of seeing my mom dead. Erase the memories of what I knew.
We could both start fresh, no pasts, both of us could learn to be present and just be here now.
But that was impossible. All I could do was love him.
His hands finally stopped shaking.
“Are you okay?”
“Sure.”
Sure. Didn’t sound convincing but I’d take it. The teakettle whistled and I poured two cups of hot water. I dunked the tea bags into the mugs, watching the warm li
quid turn to a dark amber shade, then placed the cup in front of Grady.
We sat in silence, sipping our tea. He had access to the best care, but clearly, however they were treating him, wasn’t working.
He finally spoke, his words disjointed. “Sunset. Late summer sunset, a night like this. Mountains, a chill in the air, planes overhead.”
Triggers. I couldn’t even pretend to imagine what it was like to be in a combat zone. Or to feel like you never left.
I’d studied every published detail of his attack available after I met Grady—hell I could recite his medal citation from memory.
Without hesitation and with complete disregard for his own safety, Corporal Williams reached out and pulled the grenade to his body, shielding his fellow Marines only feet away. When the grenade detonated, his body absorbed the brunt of the blast, severely wounding him, but saving the life of his fellow Marines. By his undaunted courage, bold fighting spirit, and unwavering devotion to duty in the face of almost certain death, Corporal Williams reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service.
I wanted to hear about what he went through in his own words. Maybe it would even help him, to talk about the night, desensitize it. I certainly wasn’t a trained psychologist. But Grady and I had something—whatever we labeled it—between us. Maybe he could share with me what he couldn’t tell others.
“Grady, that’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. But if you’d like to tell me, I’d really like to know what happened to you.”
He sighed and stared in the distance. “We were clearing houses, looking for terrorists. This one motherfucking insurgent threw a grenade in front of my Marines. I jumped on the grenade.”
He said it matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t a big deal, like he bought the guy behind him a drink at Starbucks. “Why?”
His voice lowered. “Because it was my job. Because I’m a Marine. Because he was my best friend, my brother in arms, I loved him. He would’ve done it for me. I was just the unlucky motherfucker to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And the worst thing about it . . . he died anyway. I did it all for nothing.”
I wanted more, so much more. To go deep into his psyche. Find out every detail about the night, what he saw, what he felt, physically and emotionally. But not like this, not yet.
I turned into him and initiated a kiss. He kissed me back, but these kisses weren’t lustful. They were comforting, dare I say soothing, or possibly even loving.
I pulled back for a moment, and looked at him, really saw him. I imagined what he had looked like before the injury, who he had been before he’d sacrificed his looks, his health, his soul. Was it for his country? Was it for his friend?
Tears welled in my eyes.
His gaze was fixated on me too, and I allowed him to look at me. To truly see me. Did he see my longing for him? How much I wanted to be loved by him? How hard I prayed that this, whatever this was, could possibly work out?
He lifted me off the chair and carried me to the bed. It creaked when he placed me on the quilt, and we both laughed. It was nice to see him smile, a hint of joy brightening his face.
He climbed on top of me as his lips took mine again. His tongue slowly explored my mouth, as his hand guided down my body.
I wiggled out of my clothes as he pulled off his shirt. His arm reached around to unhook my bra, and his mouth lapped at my breasts, the stubble from his beard rubbing against my chest.
I whispered in his ear, “I’m falling in love with you.” Tonight, there was a sense of comfort between us, as if every kiss was healing our souls.
He pulled down my panties, and I heard the distinct sound of foil ripping. His tip grazed me and pressed between my legs. This teasing was unbearable; I couldn’t wait any longer. I’d never wanted anyone more in my life.
His lips locked again with mine as he pushed deep inside me. His pace alternated between hunger and caution, as if he was holding back the beast within. I wasn’t scared of his wild side; I wanted to see the animal he kept caged. I pulled him closer to me, urging him to fill me up and erase the space between us.
He glided in and out of me, each thrust taking me closer to nirvana. He paused for a second and looked deep in my eyes.
“I need you.”
Need? That was good, right? It had to mean something. I needed him too; I needed this moment, this feeling.
His fingers interlaced with mine and he pinned them over my head. His pace quickened, and I could feel myself desperately trying to hold on to the cliff, hold on and ride the waves of ecstasy. He released my hands, and I clutched the sheets as he grinded deep inside me, pressing flat against my belly, giving me the direct stimulation I craved. I dug my fingers into his ass, and he pounded into me. Our release came crashing down around us, and I savored every second as our bodies drowned together in a sea of satisfaction.
This man loved his fellow Marines, was willing to give his life for them. He was capable of loving someone more than he loved himself. I wondered what it would be like to be loved by such a man.
But my heart was restless. Soon our world would change, our time out here would be over. No matter how much we wanted to, we would never be able to return to the innocence of this moment.
27
Grady
She looked up at me. “Can I spend the night with you? I really want to try to make this work.”
Of course I wanted her to stay with me, to fuck her sweet pussy every night, though I wasn’t sure if that emotional performance she just gave was nothing more than a combination of an apology for her ex partner insulting me and pity witnessing my flashback. At this point I didn’t care what her motivations were—I just wanted her near me.
“Sure. I’m glad you begged me to let your dad write my book. I honestly would’ve never done it. And I’m actually looking forward to saving up some money. The VA sucks and who knows if I’ll be able to hold down a job. And I’ll get to tell my side of the story in the book.”
She rolled on top of me, staring into my eye. “The book will be amazing. Get some!”
I kissed her forehead, appreciative of her Marine Corps “get some” reference, as if she was trying to relate to me.
In my post-coital haze, I decided to put myself out there even more. It had gone well so far. No more games. From here on out, I wanted her to know she’s mine.
“For the ball, I don’t want you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
“Oh?”
I lifted up her hand and kissed it. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” Once the words left my mouth, I knew I had made the right decision asking her. Since I’d left the hospital, I’d stopped making plans for the future. I wanted to look forward to my life—with Isa in it.
A big smile spread across her face, and her eyes sparkled.
“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, a shot of adrenaline reinvigorating me.
She pursed her lips like she was thinking. “Grady, since this is a ball, do you know how to dance?”
“Nope. Never learned.”
“Well, can I teach you? Just two dances. Maybe a foxtrot and a rumba? I really had a great time dancing tonight.”
Hell no. “Nope, not going to happen. Most Marines just end up screwing around, you might see them dancing to ‘YMCA’ or the electric slide, but no one really dances.”
“I get that. But I mean the President will be there. You’re the guest of honor. And once the press finds out you’re going with me, they’re going to expect something. Especially since we’re dating.”
I tensed up my shoulders. Writing a book was one thing—I wasn’t going to learn how to dance. “No. It would be like a gateway drug. Next thing you know I’d be on Dancing under the Stars.”
“Ha!” She laughed. “It’s fine. Just thought it would be fun.”
She cuddled onto my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her. She fit perfectly. For the first time since I’d met her,
I felt like there was a possibility that she could truly need me.
“Fine, two dances, that’s it. I’m not wearing those weird shoes with heels. And don’t get any crazy ideas about waxing my chest and stuffing me in a rhinestone onesie.”
She giggled. “You’re hilarious Grady. Okay—it’s a deal.”
28
Grady
The next morning we left the campsite and headed back to the cabin. We had a few more days here before we would return to the real world.
In the daylight, I was filled with embarrassment that she’d seen me have a flashback again. She’d been understanding and comforting, but I was worried that the novelty would wear off and she wouldn’t be able to deal with my issues long term.
We arrived back home and we milled around the cabin in silence. I needed to know why she snapped at me earlier in the week when I asked about her mother’s death.
I went to the kitchen and poured her a mug of coffee. After a few minutes, she sat at the table with me.
“So what happened to your mom?”
She looked away from me, her face turning red. “She died. End of story.”
I didn’t have a clue how to read women. Men were direct. If a dude had a problem with someone, he’d kick his ass, share a beer later when it was resolved. I hated playing the guessing game with this girl. “Cut the bullshit. You say you want to get to know me, but you’re being secretive. I absolutely can’t stand liars. You lied to me about where I’d seen you before, and you snapped at me when I asked about your mom. Just please be honest with me.”
Her hand was shaking. “It doesn’t matter how she died—it only matters that she is dead.”
I would get this girl to open up to me. I put my arm around her, her petite body fitting perfectly on my chest. “Babe, you have to trust me.”
BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance Page 12
