Sex can"t change a person. I get that intellectually. But as I lie next to Timothy in the hotel bed, I want to argue with that statement. A smile tugs across my face, and it"s reflected in Timothy"s expression as he shifts over me. "Hi," he murmurs. "Hi." His body"s beautiful, strong, and muscled. As I trace the lines of his bare shoulders, his pec, his bicep, the ink has me staring again. "Your food get lost on the way?" he asks. I glance past him at the door, thinking for the first time in a long time about my meal. "Maybe they heard the noises and turned back." Timothy presses his smiling mouth to my shoulder, and I grin too. My fingers dig into his arms, holding him still as my attention drags back to the ink on his chest. "I can"t believe you"ve had all these done since you left. Tell me about them?"
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