Page 2 of Her Marine Master (Master Me #4)

R ob yanked the laces on his sneaker so hard they broke.

Fuck.

Was he really so out of touch with his own body that he couldn't tie a shoelace anymore? He yanked the broken laces out of the shoe and stared at it in disgust. Great. How was he supposed to go running?

After a moment of spluttering, his brain arrived at the obvious solution of pulling a lace from another shoe. He retrieved the lace and started over, this time being careful not to yank too hard as he tied it.

He kicked open his front door. Once more, he gauged poorly and the door slammed open, making a dent in the plaster behind it.

No, that wasn't his fault. The doors in this apartment were made of cardboard. He shut the door and locked it, slipping the key in his pocket. As he jogged down the stairs, his eye caught the flash of red hair in the lobby.

Damn.

Dimples again. He'd run into her three times in the past week and every time, his cock got hard while he pictured himself doing all variety of depraved things to her hot little body.

She was bent over her phone—no, it was an Mp3 player. Great, was she going running too?

He almost stopped to go back in his apartment until she left, but it was too late. Large green eyes lifted and crinkled at the corners. The dimples deepened with her wide smile.

Jesus, she was cute.

She wore a pink midriff shirt, tight around her perfect, perky tits, and short shorts.

Her muscular legs extended a mile long. He hated girls like her—sorority girls with every hair in place.

No, that wasn't true. Kaitlyn wasn't a sorority girl.

She was… well, he wasn't sure what she was, but she was definitely still too perfect and too innocent to even be looking at a guy like him.

Did she have any clue what he liked to do to women? If she did, she wouldn't stand there looking at him with that bright smile.

"Are you going for a run?" she said.

He considered walking past without answering. It wasn't like he hadn't already been rude. But she had made him brownies. Damn good ones, too. The kind with chocolate chips and walnuts. "Yeah."

"Me too." She hesitated and darted a glance at him as she passed through the front door and held it open for him. If she was waiting for an invite, it wasn't going to come.

He took the door from her and held out his hand. He may be an asshole, but he still knew how to be a gentleman, and he sure as shit wasn't going to let a woman hold the door open for him.

She flashed her megawatt smile, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth. "See ya." She jogged down the steps and took off running.

Wait. Was that a challenge? Did she actually think he wanted to race? Or was he reading too much into that impish smile? Either way, the most competitive part of him kicked into gear and he jogged down the stairs, wincing at the pain in his goddamn knee.

If that little girl thought she could outrun him just because he was wounded, she had another think coming. He took off behind her, enjoying the view.

Kaitlyn had nice form. Her legs kicked back with easy grace, her ponytail swayed in rhythm with her gait.

She started off and maintained a steady pace—not too fast out of the gates, not too slow.

Her legs looked gorgeous as the muscles flexed and lengthened, and that ass…

he suppressed a growl. She did have the best ass he'd seen in a long time.

Too bad she wasn't his type, because he could think of at least nine different things he'd like to do to that ass, and most of them involved implements of torture.

Yeah. He liked to hurt women. He could be a sick fuck.

Of course, it was all consensual. And the women he played with wanted it—begged him for it, actually. Thanked him profusely when they were done because he delivered. But that part of his life was over now. Because who would submit to anyone as fucked up as he was right now?

Kaitlyn looked over her shoulder. When she saw him, she turned and jogged backward.

Oh no. Fuck that.

He spun his index finger in a circle in the air, indicating she should turn the fuck back around.

She actually laughed. Yes, laughed.

He was going to laugh when she tripped and fell on her ass. No, he wouldn't. The irony of being a sadist was that he didn't like seeing a woman hurt, except well, if they were playing. Otherwise, the urge to protect overrode all else.

He grit his teeth and picked up his pace, ignoring the searing pain in his hip and knee. When he reached Kaitlyn, she turned around to run forward, but that didn't stop him from giving her a pop on the ass. And yes, it felt damn delicious. "Running backward could get you killed."

She grinned, obviously not taking him seriously. "Oh yeah?"

He wanted to wipe that smile off her face—to teach her to call him "sir" and obey the fuck out of him when he gave an order. He wanted to flip her over his knee and spank that juicy ass pink.

"I'm serious," he growled.

She shrugged. "Okay. I'm running forward now." To his relief, she didn't say anything else, just fell into rhythm, running beside him. This he could get used to. Quiet companionship. Make that silent.

Of course, it was too good to last. After a few blocks, she peered up at him. "So, are you active duty?"

He frowned. "No."

"Retired disabled?"

The words hit him like a blow to the chest.

Holy fuck.

He'd better get used to them. That was his reality.

It would forever be his story. Early fucking retirement due to permanent disability.

Like a fucking weakling, he was now collecting retirement pay for the rest of his life.

Which was why finding a job hadn't been a high priority.

There were many guys who would be satisfied with his lot.

He'd made it out alive. He didn't have to find work now, if he didn't want to.

But yeah, he was considered unable to perform his former duties as Force Recon, which was a highly selective team of special ops guys—the Marine equivalent of a Navy SEAL or Army Special Forces.

He'd been so fucking proud to serve his country that way.

And the Purple Heart didn't soften the blow. Not at all.

"Yeah."

"So what now?"

Damn, she was nosy.

"I don't know."

"School?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know." Jesus, he didn't want to be answering these questions. And damn, his knee and hip were killing him, but he didn't want to show it. A wave of nausea ran through him from the pain. "What do you do for a living?" There. He'd turn the tables on her.

"I'm a social worker."

Oh for God's sake. Well, that figured. Dimples was sweet through and through. So sweet it hurt his teeth. "What kind?"

"I work for Family Resources—it's an agency that helps parents find the education, child care or benefits they might need for their children."

Yep. His teeth ached.

"There are a lot of resources for getting wounded vets back into the workplace."

Ugh. He abruptly dropped his pace to let her move ahead. He sure as hell didn't need her problem solving for him.

She slowed also, adjusting her pace to match his. "I'm sorry."

It was the first time she'd shown any sensitivity to his responses and the sincerity in her apology chewed him up even more than her prying.

He stopped running altogether, dropping to a walk. Actually a limp, which he seemed unsuccessful in masking at the moment.

She got ahead by a few paces before she realized and also stopped.

"Look, Dimples. I can see you're a very sweet girl, but I don't need your sympathy or for you to problem-solve for me. Got it?"

Her green eyes shone with pity. Her chest rose and fell as her breath slowed from the change in pace. "Yeah. I got it."

Something about her simple acceptance turned him on.

It was a real submission, not the "yes, sir" kind he elicited from his play partners.

It made his imagination run wild, picturing her in all kinds of naked surrender.

His palm itched to spank her long and hard just to teach her a lesson about who pitied who.

Yeah, he was a real dick.

Kaitlyn the social worker would be smart to forget she ever met him.

Kaitlyn changed outfits four times. Alexander, her online date, was picking her up at eight and she couldn't quite figure out the right "message" with her clothing.

Not too sexy, because she wasn't about to put out on the first date, but not too boring or he wouldn't be interested.

Not too fancy, but not too casual. In the end, she opted for a skirt and blouse with flats.

She'd save heels for a fancier date. Tonight they were just meeting for a "drink".

A knock sounded at the door and the butterflies in her tummy took flight. She took a deep breath. It was just a date. And it wasn't with the hot Marine next door—the guy who made her knees weak—so what was the big deal?

She opened the door and looked out.

Okaaay. Not as good-looking as his picture, that was for sure. Was it even the same guy as the picture? This guy looked thin-faced and a little greasy. Tall in a gangly kind of way. Well, he was probably a really nice guy.

"Hi. Are you Alexander?"

He stuck out his hand. "Yes. Kaitlyn?"

She shook his palm, which was sweaty. "Yes.

" She pushed past him into the hallway, not wanting to invite him into her place.

"I'm all set." She pulled the door shut behind her and locked it.

As they walked past Rob's apartment, she listened for sounds, as she always did.

The television blared. The poor guy really needed a job or a hobby.

She'd been thinking about him nonstop since their run together.

That little slap on the ass he'd given her had been uber hot.

Dominant. No-nonsense. So sexy. She wanted more of that.

Of him. But she had a real date tonight with someone who was interested in her, so she might as well make the best of it.