Page 13 of Beast

I resumed my post, slapped her ass, and pumped my cock into her slick slit. Man, she felt incredible—wet, warm, tight as fuck. I kissed the back of her neck and rubbed her clit.

“Yes, ohmigod, Grady. Yes!”

I loved the way she said my name. My heart beat strong.

She let out a yelp as I drove deep inside her. I could fuck her for days. I could fuck her forever. But we might not have forever; as far as I knew we could only have tonight.

Her face flushed with pleasure. “Oh, baby, yes, just like that.”

I loved a girl who knew what she wanted. This woman moved with the grace of a dancer, her hips swiveled around me, her pussy clenched and released my cock. I pumped her hard, my hand working her pussy, desperate for her climax. Desperate for my own, the only moment when I could experience pure joy and erase my pain. Forget for a few blissful seconds who I was and what I’d seen, and what I’d done.

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock.”

“Grady, oh, Grady. Yes!”

She exploded into moans, her pussy pulsating around my cock, the sensation pushing me over the edge. One deep groan and our physical connection, the moment we’d shared was over.

I pulled out, gave her a pat on her ass, and walked over to the trash to throw the condom away.

I wanted her to sleep beside me, but I was afraid that I would scare her, wake her in the night with my screams, or even worse, choke her in my sleep. As much as I wanted to find someone to take care of, someone who could learn to love me, I couldn’t risk endangering her.

And it went deeper than that. Even my closest friends weren’t aware of all the dark stuff that existed in my mind. If Isa ever learned how clearly fucked up I was, she’d want nothing to do with me.

I wanted so much for a woman to truly see me—as a sexy man, as a protector, as her true love.

But I doubted I would ever allow myself to rely on a woman.

I’d had enough organs broken in my life; I didn’t need a broken heart.

6

Isa

Okay, I was officially ashamed now. I’d slept with a man I’d just met twice in one night. This wasn’t a date; this was a hookup. Exactly what I hadn’t wanted.

And oh my God—how crazy random was this night? A producer asked Grady to be on Dancing under the Stars? What a nightmare. I could never tell Grady that I’d been on that show.

And even worse—he’d been approached about writing a book. I mean, of course he had, but I wondered if my father or his agent had asked Grady. I knew my dad had his sights on him. Dad kept waxing poetic about Grady’s heroics. He’d even made a point to mention that he would love it if I dated a man like Grady. Ha! If he only knew where I was now, I don’t know if he’d be ashamed or thrilled.

Grady walked out of the bathroom, silent. I gathered my clothes and dressed. My costume barely fit with my sweaty body clinging to the fabric.

When I emerged, Grady sat on the sofa, blankly staring at the screen.

Okay. Awkward. “I’m going to go back to the party. It was nice meeting you.” Isn’t that what you were supposed to say after these hookups? How was I supposed to act? Was there any way I could turn this night around?

He stood up, and I admired his body again.

Stop it, Isa. He probably sees this as a one-time deal. He wanted to drive you home earlier and you insisted on staying. He hasn’t mentioned seeing you again, asked what you like to do for fun, or shown any sign that this is more than just a hookup. Cut your losses and leave.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“You don’t need to. It’s just a block.”

He grabbed his keys. “I said I’ll walk you back. It’s late; lots of guys have been drinking. A girl was assaulted on campus last week.”

My belly fluttered—he was being protective over me, but it probably meant nothing. Was this some military honed instinct? He was a Medal of Honor recipient—I was sure this was just how he acted toward every woman. Whatever his reason, I enjoyed being the object of his concern. “Suit yourself.” He probably wanted to head back to the party and find another Black Widow.

We left his apartment, the stars now shining over the San Diego night. We walked in silence to where Marisol had parked, but her car wasn’t there.