Free Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) by A. Rosa Page A

impressed.
    The question throws me, and I am not sure what he is asking. "What do you mean?"
    "I have never known a girl to be so toned. I can see your muscles everywhere, especially here ." He caresses my torso. "You must not have any body fat. It's impressive, really."
    I sit back on him and tilt my head . "Oh ... yeah, I do go to the gym a lot. Um, I do a lot of kickboxing." It’s kind of the truth if you consider kicking and boxing trained male agents.
    "Noted. Didn't know kickboxing could make you look like a mean machine."
    I laugh. Mean machine? Oh, Jeremy, you have no idea.
    "Well, you aren't so bad yourself ." I run my hands down his six-pack, and then hop off him and head inside. I can feel Jeremy's penetrating gaze following me. I never realized my physique could be a giveaway, but then again, I rarely let anyone see me naked. Oh, jeez.
    I feel like a sixteen-year-old girl —at least, what I imagine most sixteen-year-olds feel like. I didn't feel like this at sixteen. When I was sixteen, I was too busy finding ways to ditch school and running away from my foster parents.
    Who knew taking a chance on a guy could be so … fun? Fun is another unfamiliar concept. My kind of fun involved finding ways to pin Derek to the ground while in the sparring room, or fine-tuning my aim with a gun. My version of Girls Just Want to Have Fun always takes on a twisted meaning.
    For the first time , my life feels fresh. Each approaching moment is like unknown territory. I have to admit it frightens me, but fear tends to be something that drives me. Adrenaline rushes push me forward. However, this adrenaline rush is entirely different. I trust my aim more than I trust my emotional decision-making.
    As if on cue , a knock sounds on the front door. I can't wipe the grin off my face as I skip to the door, giddy beyond words. Noticing there is a twenty-dollar bill on the table, I help myself to it to pay the pizza guy, and note to tell Jeremy I took it.
    I approach the fog-tinted glass front door and see someone waiting, but the blurry shape doesn't look like it is holding a pizza.
    I tense for a moment as I make my way to the door. I have been trained to mistrust the unexpected. I debate whether I should run and grab the gun in my backpack, but that would expose me to Jeremy. Maybe I could spin it as self-defense for a serious waitress. I snicker at the thought.
    I take in a deep breath, and open the front door, trying to seem normal and not like a cop.
    The worst person I can imagine is standing there, and trust me, I wish it were an assassin or a burglar instead. At least then I would have known how to deal with it.
    But no, Marcus Gibbs stands there , looking dumbfounded. I think we have matching expressions.
    I take a moment to peer down at my clothes, and reflexively I begin cracking my knuckles knowing exactly how this looks. Good grief. My appearance is all sorts of incriminating.
    Before I can stutter a response , Marcus beats me to it. "Well, this explains a lot." He is matter-of-fact and sounds wounded. Good job, Turner.
    I open my mouth to respond, but Jeremy, with the worst timing ever, comes in from the kitchen and kisses me on top of my head before making eye contact with whom he thinks is the pizza boy. It doesn't help that Jeremy is still only in his underwear as well. His eyebrows shoot up in shock as soon as he grasps the situation.
    Jeremy fills the void before I do. "M-Marcus, oh , hey."
    His tone is shaky. I don't know their dynamics well, but if I am not mistaken , this breaks bro code.
    Marcus answers, but it's obvious he is beyond pissed off. "I should have guessed ." He sighs. "Well, I wanted to see if you wanted to hit up a game of ball, but I can see you are indisposed." His tone is bitter cold.
    "Marcus, please . I—"
    "Don't , Jeremy. In a way, I am used to it. It's cool, whatever. I am going to go now." He rolls his eyes before heading toward the elevator.
    Jeremy shouts down the hall, "Marcus,