The door opened and Longstreet's breath caught in his throat.
Natasha Romanov.
Hypnotic green eyes. Full red lips. Red-gold hair pulled back in an intricate French braid. Red, scoop-necked cut-off top showing a good three inches of bare skin above skin-tight black hip huggers.
Holy crap.
He was pretty sure he hadn't said it out loud, but if he had, neither of his fellow officers would have blamed him. Only a dead man could look at the Black Widow and fail to be aroused.
Longstreet realized that his mouth was hanging open, possibly drooling. He shut it with a snap.