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... an.

Perfect posture, perfect calm, perfect timing, like the universe had placed him on a personal mission to interrupt them at the most humiliating moments possible.

He stopped dead in the doorway. His silver gaze moved once from Dax’s arm, still very much around Chris’s waist, to the towel barely hanging on to its job, to the pair of half-closed lips and flushed faces and then up, toward the ceiling, like a man trying to see God.

For a full second, no one breathed.

< ...

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