Still Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 10) by Anne Marsh Page B

going to say I want a second chance—more like a second moment. Another night. Just a few more minutes with the two of us naked before we split for good and head in different directions. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, but Hindi’s gonna take some convincing. She’s the one leading the charge on the divorce front, so any counter-charge I make needs to be well thought out.
    Yeah. I got that handled. I’m the king of planning, the guy who makes Sherlock Holmes look like a disorganized, impulsive schmuck. Plus, the lovely state of Florida is on my side—we’ve got weeks and weeks before we can pull off any divorce.
    “I’m gonna make a plan,” I tell Finn.
    “Sex plan?” Humor lights his eyes, the bastard.
    “Do you kiss and tell?” I know he doesn’t—and not just because, as discussed, Vali would disembowel him with the nearest sharp object. He loves her and their business is just that— theirs . Still, he hums, whistles, and generally smiles like a happy loon after he and Vali have shared some quality time together. A really happy, getting-some, just-got-laid loon. Yes. I’m jealous.
    Finn slaps me on the back as he opens the door. “Good point. Kick ass, man. I’m rooting for you, but you don’t need to share the details, ‘kay?”
    “None of your business anyhow.”
    Finn grins and slams the door. “Gotcha. If you need sex tips because you’re so goddamned rusty, I highly recommend Cosmo . Sure, it’s a chick thing, but it’s the best enemy intel you’ll find. Girls talk about anything. Downright scary. Plus, they’re all convinced a guy can’t find a clit without a diagram and written instructions. You got any questions, that magazine will answer them and then some.”
    “Vali been complaining?” I call after him.
    Finn just waves and disappears inside his bungalow. Yeah. I can practically hear clothing start hitting the ground. I put the Jeep in drive and cover the two hundred yards to my own bungalow. There are no lights on at my place, and I’m damned certain I have no one waiting for me. That’s going to change.
    I park and go inside, already planning.
    Hindi Alvarez is my new personal mission. We’re going to date. To spend quality time together. Talk. And then we’ll have sex. Hot, dirty, sweet, nasty, intimate sex. Yes, I fucking Google the dating part and I may spend way too much time on the Cosmo site. I need all the intel I can get. You just need to remember one thing.
    This isn’t love. It absolutely, positively isn’t.
    It’s good old-fashioned lust—with a side of… something.
    Yeah. I hear me, too. It’s that something that’s gonna bite me on the ass and make me beg for more.

Rohan
    B y the time I pull up outside Hindi’s rented bungalow the next day, I’m second-guessing the plan. My track record with relationships is shit, so today is not a sure thing. I am not the king of seduction, because I’ve never spent time convincing a woman to go to bed with me if she wasn’t all in. The way I see it, however, Hindi and I haven’t spent much time together. We had a week on Angel Cay, and we spent most of that time fighting or fucking. And while getting her naked still tops my to do list, we need to get to know each other. Again? For the first time? Not sure which it is, but Finn’s right. Why not take advantage of our time together now? Not like it’s a second chance, but it’s something.
    Nerves provide a kick of adrenaline, making my stomach churn. Should have popped a Tums. In the military, the instructors like to talk about tactical breathing. Breathe right and you can race into a burning building, take down an armed opponent, or stay calm in close combat. It’s like a fucking magic trick. I breathe in through my nose. One two three four. Hold it. One two three four. Push the air out my mouth. One two three four. Hold it.
    Like insta-Valium, right?
    Yeah. No such luck, but I head up Hindi’s walk and knock on her front door anyhow. And then I stand