Page 14 of Better Late Than Never

“Okay.” I folded my hands on the desk to keep them still. “What do you need, sir?”

“I, um…” He lowered his gaze and scratched the back of his neck. Then he dropped his hand into his lap and looked right at me. “Listen, I’m pretty sure I foundyourprofile.”

The heat that rushed through me was not helping this situation. The last thing I needed was to know that Lieutenant Marks knew all about what I liked in bed. Or that he’d seen some of those photos; they weren’t revealing per se because I valued my career and privacy, but they were suggestive too. Isidoro had straight up told me he’d jacked off to one of them.Severaltimes.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Marks said quickly. “I, uh…” His face turned red and he couldn’t hold my gaze anymore. “I’m sorry—that was not the smoothest way to start this conversation.”

Smoothest? Why would he care about being smooth with me? It wasn’t like we could?—

Oh. Oh, fuck. He wasn’t… was he?

Before I could go too far down that steamy rabbit hole, he blurted out, “I really want to try the whole club scene. The, uh… The gay club scene.” His blush deepened and he raked a hand through his short, dark hair. “I’m just so fucking clueless about all of it.”

I blinked, both because I couldn’t believe the direction this was going, and because I wasn’t sure what to make of Marks being this flustered. He always seemed so cool and composed, but right now? Not so much.

“Where, um…” I cleared my throat again. “Where do I come in, sir?” The formality helped to remind me where we stood, but it didn’t helpmuch.

He pressed his lips together, then finally met my gaze. “There was a line in your profile. About… About going to places like Barcelona and Ibiza. I, um… I got the impression that isn’t to check out the architecture.”

I coughed a laugh as some warmth rose in my own face. “I mean, some people probablydogo to Ibiza for the architecture.”

“But something tells me you don’t.” Though he was still flustered, he seemed to look right into me. All the way past my professional façade and military bearing to those booze-blurred memories of Ibiza that had nothing to do with architecture.

“No,” I rasped. “I don’t.”

“Right. And I… I want to try places like that.”

“Not for the architecture?”

“Not for the architecture.” He shifted a little, still clearly nervous. “I know where the lines are. With…” He tapped the insignia on his camouflage blouse. “Ranks. We can’t fraternize.”

I reached for my water bottle. My tongue was suddenly sticking to the roof of my mouth. Some of that was lingering from my earlier panic attack and the stubborn jitteriness, but some of it?Notfrom earlier. Oh, what I wouldn’t have given to fraternize with this man. Given half the chance and I’d have locked the door, dropped the blinds, and fraternized with him right over my damn desk.

After a sip of water, I croaked, “So, what? You want some guidance? Which clubs to go to?”

“I… Kind of?” He chewed his lip, a gesture that had no business being that sexy. “I mean, we can’t go places together. But if we were in another city and we happened to cross paths in a club, there’s nothing that says we can’t talk to each other. Or that you can’t give me a few pointers about what the fuck I’m supposed to do in a place like that.”

Ooh, hell.

“I, uh… I guess…” I needed some more water, not that it helped much. “That’s true. I don’t think anyone would be surprised if we ran into each other and started talking.” I drummed my nails rapidly on my desk. “And if someone saw us in a place like that, I doubt they’d have any inclination to rat us out.”

He eyed me quizzically, then seemed to catch on. “Because they’d have to admit they were there too.”

I nodded. “In my experience, the people most likely to out someone or get them into trouble are also the ones most afraid to out themselves.” I gave a quiet, caustic laugh. “Self-loathing is a hell of a drug.”

“That’s true,” Marks said. “So, if wedidjust…happento run into each other in a place like that…” He inclined his head and raised his eyebrows.

Why did I feel like there wasn’t enough air in this room? But not in the same way there wasn’t enough when I was having a panic attack? Enough to make me dizzy, but not enough to send me spiraling.

“I don’t see why not.” I shrugged, hoping I looked more chill about this than I was. “If we, uh… If we happen to be in the same place at the same time.” The word “sir” lodged in my throat. I wasn’t sure why. Or maybe I was, because… fuck. Marks looked at me. I looked at him. Was his heart thumping as hard as mine was? Were we on the same wavelength? And did he have any idea how absolutely insane it would drive me to watch him bumping and grinding with men who weren’t me? To be the one helping him get in that close to those men?

Goddammit.

On the other hand, getting to watch him in that environment would be hot as hell, and it was the closest I’d ever get to him, so why not?

I swept my tongue across my dry lips and pretended not to notice thathe’dnoticed. “I… was thinking I might go up to Sevilla this weekend. There’s a club there. Castillo de Danza.” I shifted nervously, grateful for the desk between us because, yeah, just thinking about this was making me feel some kind of way. “Maybe I’ll hit it up on Saturday night.”

Surprise sketched across his face, but it was quickly replaced by understanding. And interest. “Castillo de Danza, huh? And Sevilla?” He tilted his head. “You don’t go to Málaga?”

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