BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance (12 page)

A
fter seeing Pasha
, I wanted to escape, drown out the voices in my head that told me that somehow our partnership had been responsible for my mother’s death. I’d been so wrapped up with the show and training for Blackpool that I hadn’t noticed how lost my mom was. Maybe I would’ve seen a sign.

Enough—he didn’t deserve to occupy my thoughts.

I filled the tub with hot water. A large window looked out to the lake, the snowcapped mountains in the distance. I undressed and slipped into the blissful heat.

The best distraction from Pasha was fantasizing about Grady.

Everything was happening so fast between us. It seemed like a big jump to me though, going from never leaving the house, to eating at a restaurant, to spending all our time together. I hoped Grady could handle it, and that he wasn’t moving too fast.

Grady opened the door, and I couldn’t help but gasp even though I’d seen him only a few minutes ago. Every time I looked at him, he became more and more beautiful to me. His battle scars made him look rougher, tougher, badder.

His eyes focused on my body. I wanted him so badly, I arched my back and made sure to give him a view of my breasts.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips and I imagined his tongue doing its magic on me. “Can I join you?”

“I’d like that.” I watched him peel his clothes off, a private strip tease. I’d never grow tired of staring at his body, like some lovesick teenager. His cut abs, his massive chest, his huge biceps. Had he never been injured, his gorgeous face would’ve matched his incredible body. Who would he be now? Some cocky, drop-dead gorgeous player?

He climbed in the soaker tub and wrapped his body around mine as I relaxed into his. Grady’s hands gripped my thighs, and the warmth from his body sparked joy deep inside me.

He squeezed me tight. “I’m glad you dressed as Black Widow that night.”

“Me too.”

His lips crashed onto mine, and my body became alive next to his. I couldn’t get enough of his touch, his scent, his strength.

“Grady, I’m crazy about you.”

He let out a growl but kept my body faced away from his, his cock pressing against my ass. “Don’t move.”

He jumped out of the tub, and the sight of his ass, muscular and defined, was almost enough to send me over the edge. He dimmed the lights, opened a drawer, grabbed a lighter, and lit the candles placed around the tub. He poured some bubble bath in the tub, and turned on the water.

After what seemed way longer than a few minutes, he finally slipped back behind me, and I leaned back into his chest. Our breath syncopated, and his fingers began to massage my temples.

I was literally melting into him when he finally turned the water off. The scent of salted caramel bubble bath filled the room. Grady grabbed a turquoise mesh loofah and gently kneaded my skin. The fabric danced over my neck, my breasts, down my belly, until it rested in between my thighs. I let out a moan, as his fingers replaced the fabric, teasing my folds, pressing on my clit.

“You’re so beautiful, Isa. Let me worship you.”

He propped me up on the edge of the tub, knelt in the water, and spread my legs. One hand rubbed my nipples, now slippery and slick, while his other hand teased my pussy.

I was desperate for his tongue, remembering how amazing it felt the other night. His eyes looked up at me, and he flashed a wicked grin before his mouth covered my slit.

His tongue swirled around my lips as he rubbed my clit. The pressure was divine, the perfect blend of sucking and licking.

I released a breath and paused to create a mental picture of this moment and freeze it in time. The peaceful lake, the majestic mountains, the sunlit sky.

My pleasure was pulsing in waves, and I began to moan. Grady seemed invigorated by my response, but instead of continuing, he pulled me off the edge of the tub.

I was sure he was about to fuck me, maybe bent over on the edge of the tub, but he had other plans. One press of the Jacuzzi buttons, and I trembled with anticipation.

“Come here, Isa. I’m gonna make you come so hard.”

He positioned me so I was kneeling inside the tub, the jets blasting between my legs.

“Oh, ohmigod.”

He slapped my ass, and I moaned. The palm of his hand tweaked my nipples as the rapid stream of water blasted my clit.

“That’s it, baby, come for me.”

I rolled my hips against the waves, and Grady pushed me flat against the jet.

“Oh my God!” The surge of water unleashed the most intense orgasm I’d ever had. I was out of my mind, riding the pleasure. I screamed Grady’s name, and he held me as I collapsed into his arms.

After I came back down to earth, I couldn’t stop laughing, delirious with pleasure. I reached to stroke his cock, eager to return the favor, but he just pushed my hand away. “I’m good. I just wanted to make you feel good.” He kissed my neck, and we relaxed into the bubbles. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I’d never in my life experienced with anyone else the type of chemistry I had with Grady. That instant lust, that mad obsession, that constant longing. I knew what Grady and I had wasn’t love, it was something else. Something intoxicating.

And it terrified me.

G
rady took
off shortly after our sexy time in the bathtub. He said he had a few errands to run and to just make myself at home.

I enjoyed the solitude—I picked a book to read, watched an old dateline, and worked on my needlepoint.

When he returned in the early evening, he finally allowed me to make dinner for him. It was so nice to cook for someone.

After dinner, Grady relaxed in his chair, drinking his beer, his eyes steady on me. “The enchiladas were great. I didn’t expect you to be such a good cook.”

“Thanks. My mom used to make them for us. They were my dad’s favorite.” It was one of the last things she had done before she died—taught me all her family recipes. I remembered being so happy bonding with her, never anticipating that she had already made the decision to leave us.

He stood up, told me to wait for a second, and went upstairs. He emerged from his room a few minutes later clutching a shoebox. “I bought you something.”

My heart leapt the second I saw telltale suede sole.

“Dance shoes?”

“Yup. I remember watching you dance on the show when I was in the hospital. You were really good.” His lips widened, and half of his face seemed to smile.

“It was years ago. I’m sure I’ve forgotten how to dance.” But I quickly realized that was a lie. I remembered everything. Every arch of my foot, every beat of the rhythm, every sway of my back.

“The lady at the store told me these were the best. I looked at your shoes to get the right size.”

I wanted to kiss him. I hadn’t had new dance heels in years, and my old ones had been danced in until their soles were so barren that I would stub my toes on the floor. Even though I’d had money when I was on the show, those shoes were my lucky shoes. My mom had given them to me. “You shouldn’t have. I really don’t need them. I don’t even dance anymore. That was really sweet of you, but I can’t accept them.”

He walked over to me and knelt at my feet. His hand reached around my calf, and he took off my flip-flops and rubbed my toes.

I held back a moan. The touch of his hand on my feet made my flesh tingle. The second I slipped my arched foot into the three-and-a-half-inch Latin suede dance shoes, my heart sang, my body yearning to return to the floor.

“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.

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.