No language could possibly capture what she looks like to me.
She isn't simply beautiful.
She's home.
I lower myself, lips following the path my hands made down her sweet, curvy body.
She's soft in all the right places.And when she sucks in a breath and tries to cover herself from me, I don't allow it.
I kiss her hands and gently tug them away from her belly as I continue to kiss and lick and taste.
“But...I-I have stretch marks there, Rand,” she whispers, embarrassment tainting her sweet voice.
My heart cracks.
I lift my head, frowning.
“I've got scars all over me.Do you find me less attractive because of them?”I ask.
“No, but that's different.Men have scars all the time,” she whispers.
“Honey...”
I cradle her face until she has no choice but to look at me.
“I love your body.Every inch of it.”
I brush my thumb across her cheek.
“And those marks?”
I smile.
“They're beautiful because they're part of you.”
She searches my face, looking for the lie.
She won't find one.
Not today.
Not ever.
I can actually feel the moment something inside her lets go.
The tension drains from her body.
Her breathing steadies.
She believes me.
God.
Watching her accept herself, even for a heartbeat, might be the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed.
Her eyes soften with something dangerously close to wonder.
Like maybe...
