It was early when we went to sleep, and I woke up after only a few hours. Las Vegas was also three hours behind my part of the world, so while my body knew it was late, my brain said it was way too early to sleep. I ached all over, but I felt Tristan’s warmth behind me, and I gently rolled over to look at him. The room was dark, but the television was still on. It lit Tristan up in a bluish-white light as I looked at him. His face was peaceful in sleep and he snored softly, but I didn’t mind. I let my gaze run all over his face, and then, I couldn’t help it, I reached out to touch the strong line of his jaw. His snores softened before they came back. I waited until then to let my hand move down, to the silky skin of his shoulder. He, like his brothers, was well-muscled on every inch of his body. From the swimming one of them had mentioned, I’d guess. I’d touched them all, I knew them all intimately, but I wanted to know every inch of their skin, their bodies. My fingers splayed out
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