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His eyes are molten, taking me in beneath him. He traces his fingers lightly over the stretch marks on my stomach. “I fucking love these.” I blush at the compliment. He lays his hand over my stomach. “You grew our child in there. Your body loved her so much it always wanted to remember her.” He trails his finger over the line of one and I nearly shiver.
The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower, #2)
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