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"Yes, I'll take full credit for that one. My sweet girl. Let me see you."
I am immediately subjected to an inspection, his hands sweeping over my body. Gage kisses my stomach a dozen times, then levers upward to pull me into his arms again. His mouth descends to mine repeatedly. "My God, I love you. How do you feel? Do you have morning sickness? Do you need crackers? Pickles? Dr Pepper?"
I shake my head and try to talk to him in between kisses. "I love you...Gage...love you..." The words catch sweetly between our lips, and I finally understand why so many Texans refer to kisses as "sugar-bites."
"I'm going to take such good care of you." Gage lays his head gently on my chest, his ear pressed to the rhythm of my heart. "You. Carrington, and the baby. My little family. A miracle."
"Sort of an ordinary' miracle." I point out. "I mean, women have babies every day."
"Not my woman. Not my baby." His head lifts. The look in his eyes takes my breath away. "What can I do for you?" he whispers.
"Just say a simple 'thank you/" I tell him. "and have sex with me."
And he does.
I know without a doubt this man loves me for exactly who I am. No conditions, no limits. That's a miracle too. In fact, every day is filled with ordinary miracles. You don't have to look far to find them.