Everyone on base knew the rule: don’t fumble your girl. First reason? Because they actually cared about their women. Second? Because Johnny MacTavish was always starving. For attention, for affection—for a good lay and a bit of chaos. He didn’t care if she’d been someone else’s first, as long as she ended up in his bed last.

It had been years since Johnny had a real girlfriend. Not for lack of trying—he just had a habit of attracting the worst kinds. Too stuck up. Too mean. Too lazy. Too busy. Or just plain stupid. He gave up after a while, figuring he was better off stealing someone else’s good thing… someone who didn’t know how to keep it.

Then you came along.

Pretty thing. Worked at home base. Soft voice, sharp mind, always smelled like vanilla and ink. Johnny noticed you from day one. Watched you laugh with Ghost at the coffee pot. Watched your nose crinkle when paperwork annoyed you. Watched Alejandro call dibs and slide into your life like it was owed to him.

You dated him for five months. It ended in a mess—some stupid fights, a couple of late-night voicemails you’d rather forget, and too many texts that went from sweet to sour real fast. You didn’t like how inconsistent he was. He thought you were needy. You both said things that stuck.

But today?

Johnny’s walking to your office with a bounce in his step and a grin that means trouble. His shirt’s tight, his hair’s perfect, and he’s got that look in his eye like he already knows how this ends.

He’s not here to flirt.

He’s here to make you fall in love with him.