Read Thresh: Alpha One Security: Book 2 for Free Online

personality that’s entirely un-nerd-like. He’s freaky smart, freaky-fast with the computer magic, and entirely lacking in any common sense when it comes to doing stupid-dangerous shit that can get him killed just for the shits and giggles of it. I mean, I’m a mercenary—I get into gun battles for a living. But that’s different, since I get paid to risk my neck. That crazy asshole does it for fun. Fuckin’ weirdo nerd.  
    And, for the record, I don’t use steroids. That’s all part of the inside joke between Lear and me. Just…you know, to be clear. People take one look at me and assume that either I use steroids, or I’m stupid, and usually both. Truth is I don’t and never have used ’roids, no matter how big I am, and I’m far from stupid, although I’m nowhere near as smart as guys like Puck or Lear.  
    I pulled her address up in Google Maps on my phone—a thirty-minute walk from here, and there were several good restaurants in the area.  
    I decided to grab some shut-eye; I don’t sleep well in hospitals, never have.
    It was barely noon, so I slept for a few hours, then headed out to hunt down some clean clothes, came back for a shower, and then it was time to start wooing the good doctor.  
    Or maybe ‘seducing’ was the more apropos term…

4: JUST ONE KISS

    Friday was my day off, and it was also laundry day, and heavy lifting day at the gym. This meant I slept in late—till eight a.m, which, in a doctor’s world, is late—ate a big breakfast, gathered up every last stitch of clothing I owned, except for a pair of skin-tight workout shorts, my tightest sports bra, and a long, loose tank top.  
    I started a load of laundry and then headed over to the gym. I worked the free weights until I was jelly all over, hit Jamba Juice for a big protein shake, switched loads…and headed to lunch. Usually on Fridays I caught a movie between lunch and the rest of the laundry, but today I didn’t feel like it.  
    I was restless.
    I worked out harder than I ever had, pushing myself until I couldn’t physically bang out even one more rep, even if my life had depended on it.  
    The whole time I was tossing clothes from washer to dryer and folding dry clothes, I was conflicted mentally. I’ve had a rule since my residency that I never ever think about work when I’m off—I don’t ever bring work home with me. It’s the only way to stay sane. The problem today, though, was that if I didn’t think about work, I’d be thinking about Thresh.
    And that was a bad idea.
    I didn’t dare think about what his torso had looked like, after I cut his bloody shirt off. How massive his biceps were, how thick his pectorals were. How flat and hard and defined his abs were. God, definitely do NOT think about that stupid, beautiful V where his abs grooved in and angled under his desert camo military pants. I don’t know what they’re called, camos? Uniform pants? Whatever. The V disappeared under that waistband like an arrow pointing the way to the Promised Land.
    Only… I DON’T WANT TO GO THERE.
    I don’t.
    Really fucking really , I don’t.  
    But I just couldn’t stop thinking about him.
    That growl, his voice in my ear…so full of sexual hunger and lascivious promise. His eyes on me. The fact that his expression, never mind his words, tells me he really does find me attractive.  
    Okay, fine, so I’ve got a bit of an issue with self-confidence. There’s a reason, though, and it’s not really about how I’m built. I work my fucking ass off to stay in shape. I’m strong as hell—I’m just not small. No part of me is small. I’ve got thick thighs, thick arms, and my waist isn’t waif-thin. But my arms are thick with muscle, and my thighs too. My tits are pretty much perfect, which even I can admit—assuming you like huge knockers. And my ass is—yes, big—but also round and taut and pretty damn firm, but with just enough jiggle and sway to it to remind you that I’m all woman.
    I work hard