Page 3 of Better Late Than Never

I sat up so fast my phone almost tumbled out of my hands. I steadied it, and for a panicked second, I was terrified I’d accidentally swiped the profile. The last thing I needed was to alert the guy that I’d found him on the app.

Because that photo…

No, that’s not…

Is it?

Something about him was familiar, though. That wasn’t uncommon here, of course—I’d found a lot of guys on the app who I also recognized from the base. It was almost a game sometimes to find an American and see if I knew who he was.

But this photo pinged me differently than“oh, hey, that’s the redhead at the post office”or“ah, I had a feeling that one cop was into dudes.”

I pulled my phone closer, peering intently at the image. It was the typical shirtless bathroom selfie, and he had a sexy body, that was for sure. A few tattoos. Smooth abs. Narrow waist. This wasn’t someone who’d have any trouble passing the Physical Readiness Test, that was for sure.

Nothing about his physique tipped me off about who he was, though.

No, it was the hint of his jaw. Most of his face and head were cut off, but he’d left enough to show his sharp jawline, and that tickled something in my brain. Hit some synapse that recognized him as more than a generic rando who I’d seen around base.

I tapped the profile and, very carefully avoiding an accidental swipe, thumbed through the photos. Still nothing of his face, which—no shit. Most guys were discreet on this app until they’d at least made a connection. There were a couple more angles of his jaw, though, and the familiarity held fast.

One shot of his arm showed a tattoo that tripped another synapse. I covered part of the screen with my hand so that only the bottom of the design showed—sort of like how his cropping of his face only showed his jaw—and my heart jumped into my throat.

“You have got to be shitting me,” I whispered. I knew that ink. I fucking knew it because I’d seen it peeking out from beneath a short sleeve.

A shortcamouflagesleeve.

But…

No.No, that wasn’t him. No way.

I moved away from the photos and read the profile.

Connor. Age: 40.

Distance: Less than 1 km away.

My heart was absolutely slamming into my ribs now.

No. Fucking. Way.

Recently divorced,the intro read,and recently arrived in Rota. Never been with a man before but I’d like to give it a try. Casual and discreet for now. Open to more later with the right guy.

I put my phone down and covered my face with both hands, almost muffling my groaned, “Are youserious?”

Because between the jaw, the tattoo, the location, and the description, if that wasn’t Lieutenant Commander Marks…

Oh myGod. Just passing him in the hallway almost made me trip over my own feet. Like that airwing CO, he was unreasonably sexy. Built like someone who actually enjoyed going to the gym. A charming smile that made any male-attracted person in the vicinity lose their train of thought. Brown eyes so dark they were almost black. Hair that was nearly as dark except for the dusting of gray around the edges. There was a rumor that his female patients—including the married ones—always put a little extra effort into their appearance when they were going to be seeing him. He’d only been here about three months, and I was pretty sure half the base was buzzing with,“Have youseenthe hot new doc at the hospital?”

So, yeah. Dude was fucking gorgeous.

And he wasqueer, too? Queer, and looking to hook up with a guy?

I usually preferred men who had experience, but if Marks wanted someone to guide him through the motions of sex with a man—holy fuck yeah, I volunteered as tribute. Especially since, being divorced, it was highly unlikely that he was a blushing virgin. He probably knew his way around having sex. This would just be sex with a few adaptations.

Sex with the gorgeous doctor with gray-sprinkled dark hair and tattoos and that smile that turned me completely stupid.

The gorgeous doctor… who was an officer.

“Fucking hell,” I grumbled.

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