Third Degree by Julie Cross Read Free Book Online Page A

in towels that are way too short. Who knew?”
    Marshall rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it’s a real jungle. And personally I’m quite fond of the bra and panty bit. I have yet to see an unattractive collection.”
    The heat radiating off his body, moving into my personal space, is enough to get my heart speeding up a bit. Even his voice—oozing charm despite its comedic tone—is sexy, especially emerging from beside me in the nearly dark room.
    “And then there’s the presence of world-famous kissing,” I add.
    He rolls on his side, propping himself up on an elbow and grinning at me. “That’s why you pissed off Kelsey. You wanted an excuse to get me alone so you could see for yourself if it’s true or not.”
    I laugh really hard and shake my head, refusing to answer.
    “Admit it,” Marshall presses. “You are dying to know.”
    “I am a girl who likes to get answers,” I concede. He studies me carefully and then starts to lean in. My heart is racing now, my eyes preparing to close, and my hands … what do they want? Probably to touch Marshall’s hair, run my fingers through it. His mouth is so close to minewhen he freezes and pulls back.
    His forehead wrinkles. “Now look who’s crossing lines. I suck at this RA thing.”
    “Hey.” I touch his arm lightly. “It’s not your fault. I brought it up.”
    He rolls back over and stares at the ceiling, and for several minutes all I do is lie there and listen to him breathe. “I’m gonna leave out a few details on that report. Just please don’t make me regret this, okay?”
    My heart speeds up, this time from anxiety and fear of failure. “Okay. I promise to do better.”
    It’s a silly little incident report to the residential life office, but it feels like the most important promise I’ve ever made. Letting Marshall down would prove that I’m truly a freak. A freak who can’t possibly be allowed to practice medicine without supervision. Like ever.

Chapter 5
    Marshall’s alarm wakes both of us up at six-thirty in the morning. He stands up and slams his fist into it, cutting off the blaring beeps. “I have class, but you should probably sneak out now rather than later.”
    Suddenly I remember my new schedule and bolt upright. “Shit. I have this seven o’clock boot camp class today.”
    He grins at me, lifting an eyebrow. “You’re kidding me. I’m the TA.”
    I rub the sleep from my eyes. “There’s a TA for the boot camp fitness program? Why? And you’re an undergrad student. You can’t be a TA.”
    “Unofficial TA. I take roll and collect the bodies after Sergeant Holloway tortures you guys,” he says calmly. “Occasionally I clean up vomit if anyone is stupid enough to eat breakfast before class.”
    Note to self—no breakfast on Monday, Wednesday, or Friday .
    Marshall looks me over, taking in my bare feet and pj’s, not to mention the lack of bra. “Want me to let you into your room so you can get some clothes and shoes?”
    “Shoes? Does this mean you’re going to wear actual shoes?”
    “Not by choice.” He plucks a pair of sneakers from his closet and holds them up for me to see. “The societal confines placed on feet are something I plan to fight once I’m in a position of power.”
    “What position would that be? Head of the public footwear council?”
    “Is that a real thing?” He sounds very hopeful, which causes me to crack up laughing.
    Five minutes later, I’ve made it through the hall unseen by my floormates and in and out of my room without waking the angry sleeping bears. I’m also sporting appropriate footwear and workout clothing in addition to clean teeth, but I avoided my usual morning protein bar, per the no-breakfast rule.
    All my classes last week were ten o’clock or later, so I’m surprised by the eerie quiet of campus at this hour. It’s a short walk to the rec center, where the class meets outside, at least until weather requires us to move the sessions indoors. I’m expecting to meet an