Free Romance: SCREWED (An Arranged Marriage to the NFL Bad Boy) (A New Adult Contemporary Athlete Sports Football Romance) by Bridget Lang

speak for itself. Hell, he was far more interested in kicking ass and taking names for Uncle Sam than furthering his position in the navy.
    The dark atmosphere robbed Dean of his sight momentarily and he found himself reaching for a rifle that wasn’t there. Being unaware of his surroundings unnerved him. Quickly his eyes adjusted and he stalked to the bar taking a seat at the far end, where he could swivel his back to the wall and scan his surroundings.
    Dean let the whiskey burn down his throat, the first in a series he hoped would give him a relief from the plaguing memories. The burn felt good going down and his skin cooled, adjusting to the milder temperature in the dimly lit bar. The place didn’t boast much in the way of atmosphere; the same generic cinderblock walls characterized older military buildings across the country. It didn’t need to be pretty though. The navy men—and women—just wanted somewhere close to the barracks where the liquor was cheap. This place fit the bill.
    Dean was just throwing back his fourth shot when a woman walked through the door causing him to do a double-take.
    Hel-lo, beautiful .
    Women loved Dean, and he loved them. He loved the way they smelled, the way they tasted, the way they felt, and mostly he loved the game. With his chiseled jaw, bedroom eyes, and heavily muscled 6’4” frame, he had no trouble finding a honey to hook up with any day- or night of the week.
    This woman, though…damn. She was not just any woman. She was the type that made a man’s dick stand up and take notice. He watched her thick, curvy figure approach. Her full breasts bounced slightly with every step she took, and her hips swayed in time with her path across the room. Her body wasn’t the body of some half-starved child model, she was all woman. Just Dean’s type, if he had a type. Her skin looked impossibly smooth and he imagined it would feel soft and silky beneath his fingertips.
    Dean’s gaze traveled upward from her legs, to her swaying hips, up her round, ample breasts to her face- bold eyes, high cheekbones, full lips. Yep, a goddess. Da-yum. Just imagining what she could do with lips like those had Dean shifting uncomfortably, his pants growing more constricting by the moment.
    Judging by the smirk that now spread across her pretty mouth as she took the stool next to him, she knew exactly what Dean was thinking. Despite the fact that women threw themselves at him so often he could afford to be cocky, arrogant even, he turned back to his drink. Normally, he would have kept steady eye contact, grinned his sexy half-grin, motioned with his eyes to the stool next to him, and offered to buy her a drink. The subtle/not so subtle mating game of the human male.
    Yet, the striking goddess next to him threw him off his game in seconds flat. He felt an unusual fluttering in the pit of his stomach that shot straight to his groin. It had him slightly flustered, and he turned away, determined not to act like a lovesick teenager.
    “I’ll take a shot of Jack Daniels.” Her voice was sultry and Dean’s mind instantly imagined what it would sound like when it was laden with passion. Hell, she even drank his drink.
    Dean spoke before he was even fully aware of what he was saying. “Make it two, Jake,” he said to the bartender, “Her drinks are on me.”
    He was back in the game.

Chapter Two
    Ava had noticed the man sitting on the corner bar stool the moment she’d walked through the door. Sexy, confident, hot as hell...but she didn’t date military men, and she definitely wasn’t as sensitive to their charms as the average woman. She was a military brat herself, born and raised, therefore somewhat immune to their appeal. Not to say that she found hard-bodied, handsome men in uniform unappealing…it was more that she’d learned to look beyond the exterior to what was underneath.
    Oh, she noticed him…it was hard not to when he was sitting there, all brooding and dangerous. She’d still be