Page 70 of Better Late Than Never

I cringed inwardly, sure Alex was going to balk.

Way to go, Connor—make it sound like you just want him here in case you have a fucking nightmare.

I opened my mouth to take it back, but Alex beat me to the punch.

“I wouldn’t know,” he said softly. “If it’s easier with someone else, I mean. I just… I’m always afraid of scaring someone. Or fucking up their sleep. Or…” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s… not really an aphrodisiac, either.”

“An aphrodisiac?” I looked at him again, not sure how to read the creases in his forehead or the color that bloomed in his cheeks. I caught on, though. “You think it makes you unattractive?”

The color deepened, and he nodded. With a bitter laugh, he said, “I can’t imagine it’s a turn-on.”

“Do you think it makesmeunattractive?”

His jaw snapped shut and his eyes widened. “What? No! Of course not!”

I inclined my head and raised my eyebrows.

He held my gaze. Then he huffed a quiet, self-conscious laugh as the tension melted out of his features. “Okay, okay. Point taken.” Running his thumb along mine, he said, “I, uh… If you’re serious, I have an overnight bag in my car.” He paused, then quickly added, “You know, for duty nights.”

“I figured that was what it was for. And yes, I’m serious.”

His smile made my toes curl. So did the prospect of sharing my bed with him tonight instead of trying to fall asleep alone after he’d gone.

“Okay.” He pushed himself up and kissed me lightly. “I’ll go get my bag.”

I chuckled as I ran my hand over his hip. “You might want to put on some shorts.”

He glanced down at himself, then met me with a ridiculously innocent expression. “You want me to cover this up?”

“I mean, if you want to go streaking across my yard while the sun’s still up…”

Alex snorted. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

I rolled my eyes and gave his ass a playful slap. “Just go get your shit.”

CHAPTER22

ALEX

Oh, man. We should’ve done this sooner.

The room was still pitch black thanks to the siesta shades over the window, but my alarm had gone off, indicating it was 0600. I’d hit the snooze button, and now I was lying here, indulging in a few minutes of dozing beside Connor.

It was just as well we’d waited a little while to do this—I wouldn’t have been able to sleep because I’d have been so worried about waking him up with a nightmare. Even with his reassurance, the thought of him having a front row seat to me thrashing awake like that was mortifying.

The reassurance did help, though, and I’d slept. There’d been dreams, because there were always dreams, but none of them had been enough to shake me (or Connor) awake. If we kept doing this, there’d be a rough night sooner or later, but I was happy to at least start out smooth and pleasant.

Well-rested and calm, I just lay there and enjoyed this. It had been so long since I’d woken up beside someone, and I basked in it. The warmth, the closeness, the soft sound of his breathing—I hadn’t even realized how much I’d missed that until now. It was one of those things I was looking forward to when I started my new life as a civilian—when I could finally be with someone for more than sex, and maybe mornings like these could become a regular thing.

Maybe with Connor.

My eyes flew open, and I banished that thought as quick as it had come. I was not going to get that attached to Connor. Enjoy the sex and the time we spent together, sure. Savor mornings together when we had them, absolutely. But there were a lot of cards stacked against any kind of future with him, and those cards weren’t all in the UCMJ.

If, hypothetically, we decided to date for real, it would be a year and a half before we could be out in public. Probably more than that, honestly—we’d need to let a few weeks or months pass between my retirement and us coming out so no one realized we’d been secretly fraternizing. Getting busted after I retired wouldn’t affect me, but it could affect him, and I wasn’t going to do that to him.

I also didn’t have any illusions that being with me was worth gambling with that kind of fallout. Connor was lonely. He was living overseas after his divorce, and he was indulging in the previously unexplored side of his bisexuality.

At best, we’d probably get a couple more months out of this. Then he’d decide what he was getting wasn’t worth what he was risking, and he’d move on. I couldn’t blame him for that. What the fuck did I bring to the table that would be worth a year and some change of secrecy? I was lucky he hadn’t already dropped me.

---