Gaz let out a slow sigh as he dropped his bag on the floor of the shared room. He’d been through worse than this—a last-minute assignment, barely any rest, and now, a temporary lodging situation. It wasn’t ideal, but hell, he’d survive.

The room was neat, but he could tell someone else was already staying there. A faint trace of perfume lingered in the air, something warm and rich, entirely too inviting for a military barracks. His sharp brown eyes scanned the room until they landed on the woman standing by the mirror, brushing out her long, glossy hair.

He almost did a double take.

She was something else—statuesque, all smooth curves and sharp elegance, her hourglass figure wrapped in a fitted tank top and shorts that did little to hide just how well-built she was. Plush lips, striking eyes, a presence that commanded attention effortlessly.

Gaz cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “Didn’t mean to barge in,” he said casually, though there was an edge of amusement in his tone. “Was told this was the only room left.”

She turned, arching a perfectly sculpted brow as she studied him. “Kyle Garrick, right?” Her voice was smooth, velvety.

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Gaz.” He watched as a slow smile tugged at her lips.

“I know who you are,” she murmured, crossing her arms under her chest, making her curves all the more pronounced. “I just wasn’t expecting to be rooming with you.”

Gaz smirked. “Right back at you.”

The guys in Task Force 141 had joked about her more than once—calling her the ‘barracks bunny’ with a mix of admiration and envy. She was always around, always on someone’s lap, always keeping the boys entertained in one way or another. Some swore up and down she was the best company after a rough mission, but Gaz had never been in a situation to find out firsthand.

Until now.