Free Revealing Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 4) by Kat Cantrell

his flesh, and he instantly wished she’d find the hem of his shirt and do that on his bare skin. As if she’d read his mind, her eyelids drifted closed, then open, in a slumberous blink that took a year, and when her brown eyes focused on him again, something wholly hot and extremely arousing swam through them.
    Desire . The likes of which he had no context for. She wanted him, but not in the garden variety, run of the mill I-need-a-man-and-you’ll-do way as he’d often dismissed her interest as. She wanted Evan . Wanted to crawl inside him , connect via a conduit that could only be achieved in the most elemental kind of intimacy. Not because she had an itch, but because she was seeking something that she thought she’d found and wanted to explore it.
    The knowledge shifted something inside. Boldly he let his gaze rove over hers, drinking in more information as she let him look his fill, opening herself up to his greediness.
    Had something changed? Or had he never looked at her this closely because he’d always dismissed her blatant come-ons as that of a consummate flirt?
    Her hands slid deeper across his back. “Have I mentioned how much I love your voice?”
    That pulled a smile from God knew where. “No.”
    “I think it’s because you don’t use it very often. It sounds like mescal and gravel in a blender, with a shot of maple syrup as a chaser.” She shivered, brushing the tips of her breasts across his shirt. “It does something to me.”
    He’d recite the pledge of allegiance a hundred times in a row if it got more of her hard nipples against his chest. There was a lot of Rachel’s skin that he hadn’t touched, and he’d definitely be okay with it if they started there.
    A line had appeared between her brows, and he had the strangest urge to smooth it with his fingertip. He didn’t mind starting there instead. But then he’d have to let go of her, and the longer they stood here in this pseudo-embrace, the less he wanted to.
    “Trying to go back on your deal?” he asked.
    She licked her lips. “Um, which deal was that?”
    “The one where I don’t have to talk,” he reminded her, his gaze zeroing in on her lips because they still shone where she’d dragged her tongue across them, and he was thinking about nipping that lower one between his teeth.
    “No.” She waited until his gaze drifted back up to her eyes to continue. “Keeping my word means something to me. I said you didn’t have to talk. I said I’d cook for you. And both are still true no matter what.”
    With the reminder, a cloud drifted across her expression.
    She stepped back, shattering the mood into a million unrecoverable pieces. His skin cooled, but his hard-on did not because that ponytail taunted him, begging for his fingers to undo it, letting her hair rain down around her shoulders.
    Silently he watched her, searching in vain for a glint of the singular, focused desire he’d seen just a moment ago. But it was gone.
    “Buy me some groceries, Sailor, and maybe you’ll get lucky later,” she said with a wink, falling back into the easy rhythm they’d had since day one.
    No. She hadn’t fallen into it. She’d deliberately changed the tone, hiding behind her flirting once again. But why? Was there something about that raw, honest need that bothered her?
    Probably because he kept denying the attraction between them, as if it didn’t exist. In reality flirty, come-hither Rachel was easy to resist. When she let her vulnerabilities show, she became the most intriguing woman on the planet.
    He’d have to work on blowing away that smoke she threw up between them, because God above did he want her back in his arms.

T he market teamed with people, mostly locals, but some tourists with large straw bags and wide-brimmed hats mixed with the islanders. Harbour Town wasn’t one of the premiere destinations of the Caribbean, but Abaco as a whole catered to boaters, so it wasn’t unusual to see a variety of faces shopping along