BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance

by Alana Albertson

  “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.”

  20

  Isa

  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.

  21

  Grady

  I’d been up all night fighting the sandman. Maybe it was the altitude or maybe it was all this tension with Isa, but whatever it was, I was fucking miserable. My already short-circuited nerve endings prickled my skin, my head pounded, and my stomach churned.

  I snuck downstairs and was shocked to notice that Isa’s bedroom door was wide open when the other night it had been shut.

  She eventually emerged from her room, her hair wild, her skin flushed. My cock rose to attention.

  “Did I oversleep?”

  “No, babe. It’s fine. What would you like to do today?”

  She yawned and sat on the sofa, her nipple buds pressing against her tank top. “I was thinking we could just get brunch.”

  Fuck. I’d been hoping for Chinese takeout, Netflix, and sex. But I wanted to make her happy. “Sounds good. There’s a great restaurant on the water in South Lake Tahoe.”

  “Okay. Great. I’m going to take a shower and get ready.”

  I showered in my room, dressed, and waited downstairs for her.

  “Woman, we’re leaving in five fucking minutes. Get your sexy ass down here.”

  Isa ran down the stairs, her hair framing her heart-shaped face. Tight jeans showed off her perky ass and it took every ounce of strength not to throw her over the dining room table and take her right then and there. Claim her as mine forever.

  I smacked her on the ass and gave her a kiss. It was a sweet, normal moment, like she was my girlfriend.

  I locked up the Tahoe home, a gnawing in my stomach. I hadn’t been out in public unmasked for months, outside of my doctors’ appointments, military check-ins, and that quick run to the store yesterday. She clutched my hand, as if she could sense my discomfort.

  We climbed into the truck and made a pit stop to feed our caffeine addictions.

  We drove in silence for around forty minutes as Isa took in the scenery and I zoned out to the music.

  But something was bothering me. My gut felt she was hiding something, and I really wanted to get to know her better. Time to do some intel. “So tell me about your mom.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I read online that you found her body. Did they ever catch the guy who killed her?”

  “What makes you think it was a guy?” Her voice was sharp and irritated.

  “Because men are more likely to kill people.”

  She bit her lip. “What, are you a cop now? Why do you care so much?”

  Fuck it. “For someone who thinks I need therapy, you sure get angry when the tables are turned. Forget I asked.”

  She lowered the window and exhaled. “Sorry. I just don’t like to talk about it.”

  I understood. Completely. “It’s fine. So what about your ex partner? Is he still hung up on you?”

  “Pasha? No, we never dated. We danced together as teens, won some championships. He wanted to be a professional dancer, and I didn’t. We ended our partnership when I left the show, which is for the best. He wasn’t there for me when my mom died, and didn’t defend me to the tabloids when they were printing lies about me. We’re not friends or anything, but we don’t hate each other.”

  I studied her face. She spoke flatly, little emotion toward her memory of him, a guy she’d spent years with pursuing her dreams. It made me think she was cold, closed off. Same way she was with me. Only time she’d been raw with me was when she’d admitted that she’d stolen my bullet. I was used to overly emotional women. “Have you had serious boyfriends?”

  Now she turned away from me, gazing distantly. “Not really. I dated some guy in college but it didn’t work out. No major drama. What about you? Have you ever had a serious relationship?”

  I pounded back my coffee. It was my fault for walking into this line of questioning. I actually hated hearing about a woman’s exes, imagining them fucking her. But I’d only asked her because I wanted to see if we had the same views on relationships. Wasn’t this what all women wanted? Intimacy? Fine, I’d play. “Once. We started dating before I’d deployed. I thought I was in love at the time, but it was bullshit. She couldn’t stand the sight of me after my injuries, not that I could blame her.”

  Now she turned her attention back
to me, her hand placed firmly on my thigh.

  “I’m sorry. But Grady, it’s in your head. You know that, right?”

  “What’s in my head?”

  “Your perception that no one could love you because of your appearance. I’m sure most people see you how I see you—strong, sexy, masculine, invincible. I just want you to know that no matter what happens with us, I think any woman would be so lucky to have you in her life.”

  She caressed my face and I resisted the urge to kiss her. I wouldn’t allow her to penetrate my soul, get under my skin. Her words were nice to hear, but I refused to believe them for they couldn’t possibly be true. I was afraid to let her care about me, because I was still certain she would eventually leave.

  I pushed her hand off of me, accelerated the truck and sped down the freeway. Being around Isa was just like being stuck in one of my PTSD group therapy appointments, but at least it had included the added hope of sex. I didn’t want to have to think about my feelings, about the past, about my buddies. I only wanted to forget.

  We pulled into the parking lot of the Riva Grill. I wished for a second that I had a mask to wear. I adjusted my baseball cap lower on my face, pressed my sunglasses down, and prepared to face the world.

  Isa attempted to open her door, but I stopped her. I jumped out of my truck and walked around to open it for her.

  She smiled and hopped out of the car. I wanted to spoil her, make her feel like a princess. Show her that I could be a normal guy.

  I took her arm and we walked through the little shops on the way to the restaurant. My eye scanned the tourists, assessing any threats. I couldn’t help myself.

  A little boy around three years old pointed at me, “Mama, is he monster?”

  His mom shushed him, gave me a sympathetic smile, and pulled him toward her. I kept my chin up, not knowing how to respond. Isa’s grip remained tight on my arm.

  The hostess seated us, a table with a view of the dock. I would’ve preferred a secluded booth.