Free Her One Best SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 6) by Anne Marsh

I’m a giver.
    I snort and she looks over at me. I can practically feel her eyes running over my face, down my shoulders, and further south. I know what she sees, too. I’m not a small guy. I’m just over six feet tall and I bulked up plenty in the service. Bartender the next cay over calls me her Viking. Must be the hair, because I let it grow after I left Uncle Sam’s service. More often than not, it stands on end, and I skip the shave most days. I’m rough and scruffy, and I definitely look like I can kick ass. I’m better with a sniper rifle than a sword, however, so the medieval warrior fantasies aren’t coming to life anytime soon. I’ll have to settle for shooting her bad guys.
    “If we’re friends, spill the details,” I prompt. “Name your top three sex positions.”
    She blushes, the pink on her cheeks matching the paint job on her house. “The girlfiends provide alcohol before demanding details.”
    “I’m willing to go first,” I promise her, and she slaps a hand over my mouth.
    “Oh my God, you totally would.”
    I nip her fingers before pulling away. We both know I would. My list of don’t s is fairly short and includes things like karaoke, rat dogs, granny panties, and ruining a perfectly good bar with a dance floor. “Can’t think of a position I haven’t enjoyed,” I tell her truthfully. “Not sure I’ve covered them all, but I’m always open to suggestions. I’m your hero—I can prioritize and pick three for you. Did this thing with a chick in a basket in Thailand once. I put my dick through a hole, she spun, and good times ensued.”
    Marlee groans, dragging her gaze back to my face before she gets to my best parts. “You’re a guy.”
    Indisputably.
    “Glad you noticed.” I test the board and decide it’s gonna hold.
    “So can I ask you a question?”
    “That’s one,” I point out and grin when she flips me the bird.
    “Is it normal?” Her cheeks pinken more. Think she’s still dealing with the mental images of my sit-and-spin action in Thailand. “To not have sex for years?”
    If my smile gets any wider, I’m gonna break my face. “Wouldn’t be my first choice.”
    She worries her lower lip, chewing on it as she thinks over my words. Finally, she nods. “So Roddy was the abnormal one.”
    I’m no conversational genius, but even I can hear the unspoken not me and that makes me mad again. I’ve got no problem with celibacy, and I’ve never felt the urge for serial pussy (that’s Finn’s area of expertise), but Marlee’s goddamned sexy and Roddy’s screw ups aren’t her fault. It’s hard to imagine a scenario in which I wouldn’t want to fuck her, frankly. I think about it for a minute. Nope. Coming up blank.
    “Roddy should have thanked his lucky stars every night that he got to take you to bed. If he wasn’t interested, that was his problem. Not yours.”
    I can think of a million different positions and sex acts I’d like to perpetrate on her sweet body. The basket thing was weird but fun—I’d pick the more normal stuff with her. Lap sex, her legs wrapped around my neck while I drill into her, doggy style, or her ass parked on my kitchen countertop. Marlee’s eyes widen like she just got a real good peek at the porn video running through my head. She inhales, opens her mouth, and starts talking.
    “I’m not good at intimacy. Or sex.” She ticks her alleged shortcomings off on her fingers. “I’m vanilla in bed. I don’t have any party tricks. Roddy had to work more nights than not, and in the end he’d hang out with the guys and not come home.”
    I open my mouth. I’m sure there’s something I could say that would make sense here, right? Before I can get a word out, though, she plows ahead.
    “But we’re supposed to be fixing your dating life, not rehashing mine.”
    Wait. What? When did I become the fixer-upper in this scenario?
    “I’m good.” My voice sounds rougher than a SEAL after shore leave. “We can leave my dating life