BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance by Alana Albertson Page B

and tight skinny jeans that showed off her juicy ass. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders, and I wanted to run my fingers through it while she screamed my name.
    “Hey, beautiful.” I pulled her to me and gave her a hug, my cock pressing against her crotch.
    “Hey. It’s good to see you. How are you?” Her voice was cautious yet soothing.
    “Good.” I didn’t have any tolerance for small talk. I wanted to know why she wrote me. I wanted to know exactly why she ran out the other night. I wanted to know why she stole my bullet.
    After I released her, she headed to the sofa. My mind flashed to remembering her perfect naked ass perched up as I took her from behind.
    She rubbed her hands down her jeans and every inch of me desired her.
    I stared at her chest. “Do you want a drink?”
    “No, I’m good.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, and her gaze darted across the room.
    My gut gnarled. Something was up. She wasn’t making eye contact with me, and I suspected that it wasn’t just because of my face. “What’s up?”
    “I just wanted to see you.”
    Nice non-answer. “Well, now you’ve seen me.”
    She pulled on her hair. “Well, I don’t want you to think I only came over here to ask you for a favor.”
    A favor? I clenched my fists. My heart felt like it was literally shrinking. Of course she wanted something from me—these days everyone did. A woman that beautiful could never be interested in dating a man as grotesque as me. I hated myself for believing for a second that I had a chance with her. For believing that if someone that beautiful could fall in love with me, then maybe I could love myself.
    She pursed her lips. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine.” What did this bitch want? I nodded toward her. “What do you want?”
    Her hands kept twirling her hair. “Can we talk first?”
    I shot her an irritated glance. “Talk about what? We aren’t friends. We just fucked once. What the fuck do you want from me?”
    The color drained from her face and she shook her head at me. “My father, he’s a bestselling biographer. He’s really talented, a complete perfectionist, and, like I already told you, he’s a Marine. I was wondering . . . if there was any way you would consider letting him write your war memoir?”
    Yup, the bitch was no different than the other women I’d met since I’d been injured. I was a novelty, a charity, a commodity. God, and I honestly believed for a second she wanted me. “The answer is no. Why don’t you get the fuck out of here? You’re just like every other fake-ass bitch I’ve met, Bella . And you washed up reality stars are the worst—using anyone to stay relevant.”
    Her chin trembled. “Bella? I guess you found out I was on Dancing under the Stars ?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I may only have one eye, but I told you that I’d seen you before. I never forget a face.”
    “I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because once I tell a guy about the show, he treats me differently. I like you, Grady, I honest to God do. But I figured if I told you I’d been on a television show, you’d judge me, like you’re doing right now. That show destroyed my life. That’s why I quit. I wasn’t asked to leave, I ran away.”
    Just like she had that night. Her lip trembled and I knew there was more to her story for leaving. But I was too pissed to keep interrogating her. “You saw my gun, didn’t you? Did you take my bullet?”
    Her face turned white. “I . . . I mean—”
    “I’ll take that as a yes. Why? Did you think I was going to kill you? Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m a Marine. This is America. I have a right to have a loaded gun in my house without some bitch stealing my goddamn bullet.” Here I was yelling at this girl, my body bursting with rage. She probably thought I was a psycho. I just wanted her to leave.
    But instead of cowering, she glared right at me. “I didn’t know you—I still don’t. I saw you have a flashback at that