Page 95 of Better Late Than Never

I paused mid-sentence to drink in the sight of him. He was on his side with his face half-buried in the pillow, his dark hair adorably mussed. I hadn’t noticed some of the subtle lines in his skin until now, when his features relaxed and those faint creases smoothed out a little. I probably had my fair share, too; time had that effect on people. It worked on him, too, just like the gray in his hair. Younger guys were still attractive, but now as I got older myself, I liked the signs of age in a good-looking man. It was charming, even if I couldn’t articulate quite why.

I also noticed for the first time some scars along his hairline and a couple on his cheek. One had that telltale ragged look of a laceration that had been sutured. Another was short but deep, as if something had lodged into the tissue or even gouged out a small chunk. One was long and fine, only visible because his dark stubble was thick enough to emphasize the thin white line.

Maybe I’d seen them all before and they just hadn’t registered, but now that I knew about that mortar that had almost killed him—shit. Were those from shrapnel? His neck was unmarred and the marks stopped where a helmet would’ve covered, so yeah, it was possible I was seeing where unprotected skin had been hit with metal, glass, stones, or whatever else the explosion had kicked up.

He could’ve died that day. If the mortar had landed a few feet—even a few inches—closer. If he hadn’t had on a helmet and something protecting his neck. If any number of things had happened… Connor could have died beside that Marine, and I never would’ve known he existed.

Fuck. That was a heavy thought.

Right then, a quiet ping told me that one of my coworkers had responded to the group chat. I shook myself out of my dark thoughts and shifted my attention back to the phone, and several more messages popped up. I really did want to help plan something for Chief Wallace’s retirement; I wasn’t close to the guy, but he’d worked hard and deserved a good send-off. It just didn’t interest me right now. Not on a warm, lazy morning in bed with this gorgeous man.

I muted the chat and switched back to my social media, but nothing kept my interest there either. The news was a mix of boring and terrifying—same shit, different day—and even the games I had on my phone couldn’t hold my attention.

Beside me, Connor stirred a little. When I turned to him, his eyes fluttered open. Then they fixed on me, and he offered up a sleepy smile, which brought back all those lines that had smoothed out. Wow, they really were charming, weren’t they?

How are you so gorgeous?

“Morning.” He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face. “What time is it?”

I glanced at my phone before putting it on the nightstand, and as I settled on my side to face him, I said, “About 0930.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I wonder what teenage me would think if he knew that would one day qualify as sleeping in.”

I laughed. “I know, right?”

He chuckled, and he found my hand between us. It was tempting to steal a kiss, but morning breath would probably ruin the moment, so I just settled on enjoying his touch and his adorable smile.

Rubbing his thumb along mine, he said, “We should probably get dressed and get downstairs. I think breakfast stops at like ten.”

He was right. On the other hand…

“Counterpoint,” I said. “We can be lazy and just get breakfast at the train station.”

Connor pursed his lips. “The train stations do all seem to have pretty good pastries and coffee.”

“Mmhmm. They usually have some savory things, too. I’m not starving quite yet. What about you?”

He thought about it, then shrugged. “I could eat, but I’m good for a while.”

“So… hang out and be lazy?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

That was exactly what we did, too. We took our sweet time getting ready to leave. We showered and dressed. Connor put in his contacts; such a shame since he looked so good in glasses, but he was hot without them too. Then we just lounged in bed with some coffee we’d made in the room. Not the greatest coffee I’d ever had, especially after brushing our teeth, but we’d both endured the “coffee” that flowed on ships, in combat zones, and in hospital staff lounges. I didn’t complain and neither did he.

“By the way,” I said after we’d hung out on the bed for a while, “I meant to ask—how was the rest of last night?” I touched his stubbled jaw. “I only remember waking up the one time, but…”

“It was fine.” Connor smiled sleepily as he pushed up his glasses. “I had a few more, but they weren’t as bad as the first.” Covering my hand with his, he kissed my palm. “I’m glad I didn’t wake you up again.”

“You could have if you needed to.”

“I was okay.” He pressed another kiss to my palm. “But thank you.”

I smiled, then leaned in to kiss him for real. It wasn’t a long kiss. Nothing deep or hungry that would get us spun up and turned on. Just a gentle taste of those perfect lips.

When I drew back, he held my gaze, and he smiled so sweetly, I was seriously disappointed that we’d have to leave soon. Couldn’t we just… stay here and be together in this bed for the rest of the day?

No, we couldn’t. Damn it.

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