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...