Kissed by Reality Read Online Free Page B

left at home, who she cares for as a single mom. I had no sympathy for her, and sent her home right then. I’m sure America would label me heartless for that move, but I thought she was fucking heartless. Who left their children at home to come on a stupid reality TV show? Especially when I could tell by her grip on my thigh as she told me her sob story that she clearly wasn’t there for everlasting love.
    To make things worse, I had a group date with four girls today, and that included Leighton.
    I'd made it a point to avoid her all week, filling my time talking to other girls or just hanging out by myself in my wing of the castle. But I always knew where she was in the room, it was like her body gave off a GPS signal to mine. I couldn't not notice her, and from what I'd gathered this week, she was busy buddying up to Erin.
    Leighton was a smart cookie. She knew that Erin was the closest to my type, the girl I already had my eye on and would keep getting to know as the season progressed. She wanted to get into my head, fuck with me and tease me. Jesus, why was she fucking here?
    The group date today was still in LA, the last one before we headed out to whatever location they deemed necessary. When asked about my travel preferences after I accepted the role, I told producers I wanted to visit as many foreign countries as possible. If I was going along with this, at least I'd get some free travel out of it. Although that's what I'd thought about the Marines when I'd joined up at 18-years-old, and look how that had turned out. I only hoped all of my limbs were intact at the end of this process.
    A knock sounded on my door. "Come in!" I yelled as I pulled a fresh grey T-shirt over my torso. I was rocking jeans even though it was about 90 degrees outside, a hot day for LA in November. But I wasn't ready to go full-on robo-leg with a bunch of strangers. Especially ones I was trying to impress.
    "Finn, my man...ready to go?" It was Mitchell, sans cameras.
    "Yeah, I'm all set. What're we doing today?"
    "Grab your bathing suit. The girls will be doing a swim race of sorts, you'll be in the pool to judge them. Then the winner will get private time with you afterwards."
    I grimaced. "Mitchell, I specified when we laid out the contract that I wanted no pool parties."
    My right leg, or lack thereof, was the one thing in my life that I was so self-conscious about I would avoid any activity that forced me to expose or talk about it.
    "Get over the leg thing, right now, buddy. One of these women is going to be your wife. You're going to have to show them your G.I. Joe side sooner or later."
    Most people would think that was his way of pumping me up, giving me a pep talk. But I knew the studio thought my faults and war-hero background were going to up the sympathy factor, therefore boosting ratings.
    "That's a no-go. I am wearing this. I can judge from outside of the pool." Plus, who wouldn't want to observe the way four women's bodies moved through the water from above.
    Half an hour later we were at the Mondrian Hotel's Skybar pool deck, four gorgeous women splashing around in the pool before me. The roof of the hotel was like some modern, Grecian bath house. Four walls rose up around the space, almost making it a room. Except there was no ceiling, only sky, and each of the walls has about six large cutouts that would be windows if they held any glass. The space is done in bright whites, overgrown ivy and tall leafy trees, and the deck is made up of a beautiful cedar plank. Large comfy loungers and beds with stark white cushions litter the patio.
    This was supposed to be every man's fantasy, nothing but tiny triangles and scraps of materials covering the most intimate parts of some of the world's most beautiful women as they glided around, wet and desirable, in front of you.
    Except I couldn't enjoy it, because I couldn't look anywhere but at Leighton. She'd worn a white two piece, way too skimpy to swim seriously in, and all I could