Alpha Fighter by Ava Ashley Read Free Book Online Page B

top strap. "Whatever you're making, it smells amazing."
    "Thanks. I'm just whipping up some dinner," I say, "It should be ready in about fifteen minutes. Care to join me? There's plenty to share."
    "Really? That would be awesome, I'm starving!" Savannah tucks some hair behind her ear. "I'll just take a quick shower and then I'll help set the table."
    "So I take it the interview went well?" I ask.
    "Yeah!" Her face lights up with a huge, beautiful smile. "I got the job!"
    "Congratulations!" I'm still fighting not to think of her in the shower and how much I'd like to be with her in there. Though then we'd need more than fifteen minutes before dinner...
    "Thanks," she says, then shifts on her feet a little awkwardly and really adorably. "Okay, well, I'm going to go shower now..."
    "Have fun," I say. I can't keep the wicked gleam out of my eye and the cute blush that spreads across her face makes it so worth it.
    I enjoy the view a little too much for my own good as she leaves the room. Damn, those toned legs meet that perfectly curvy ass in the most ridiculously sexy way. If only those cutoffs weren't in the way.
    By the time she's out of the shower, dressed—unfortunately—and back in the kitchen to set the table, I'm pulling the lasagna out of the oven. It actually looks pretty good.
    She sets the table in silence, though I catch her stealing glances at me now and then. The air is charged and, by the rate at which she's blushing, I know she feels it, too.
    If she weren't my roommate, I would throw caution to the wind and forget about how bad an idea it would be to get involved with a girl who's as much of a mystery, and intentionally so, as this one. My big head is clearly not the one in charge of my desires at the moment, and all I want is to pick her up by her pretty little waist, throw her down on the table that she's in the middle of setting, pull down her cutoffs to reveal that perfect ass, and give her the proper fucking I've been wanting to since I first saw her.
    Instead, I eat dinner with her. We eat in near silence for a few minutes, interrupted only by her saying thanks and raving about how good the lasagna is. It's nice to see a girl with an appetite, for once. She's slim, but not a twig, and she likes enjoying her food. Unlike the girls I usually eat with, she doesn't poke around at her food or try to act like salad is the only thing she sees on the table. She takes a healthy serving of both the salad and lasagna and eats freely and unselfconsciously. She's a woman who knows how to enjoy herself.
    That's not a good train of thought to go down, though, and I know it. So though we're eating in companionable, perfectly comfortable silence, I finally break it. Mostly to drown out my own thoughts and keep them from going places they shouldn't, like under her clothes.
    We chat about her work. She tells me about her position as all around lackey, referring to it somewhat self-deprecatingly, but I can see her pride. It lights up her face with energy and ambition in an incredibly appealing way. She asks me about my fighting, teasing that she has heard about me from co-workers. The raised eyebrow and sassy smile she gives me turn me on.
    It's getting to be a somewhat uncomfortable dinner for me, since I'm not getting the release that every look and smile and move of hers makes me need more and more, but it's also so enjoyable that I make myself deal with the growing discomfort from my increasingly tight pants. Savannah gives it right back to me; I haven't been challenged like this since the early days with Sarah. Savannah's laugh is like music. I can't help but smile when I hear it and I find myself wanting to make her do it again and again.
    There's something about this girl.
    After dessert—slices of a shared chocolate cake that I picked up from the bakery aisle of the grocery store because women like chocolate—Savannah and I clear the table. She gets started washing the dishes while I wipe down the table, and I