Amelia Clarke gazed at the crystal chandelier overhead, its lascivious reflections assaulting her visual nerves, and her heart's location heaved with each heartbeat.
In contrast to her disarray, Owen Moreland seemed calm and composed.
Outside, the sky was darkening, and the snow was visibly piling up thicker and thicker.
Owen, dressed neatly, emerged from the bathroom with a damp towel in his hand. He walked over and gently wiped away the traces on Amelia's body, his gaze falling upon her slightly protruding belly. At that moment, Owen's movements halted.
His hand involuntarily caressed that spot gently.
There, it was still slender, not much more protruded than before, and not caving in as it would when she lay down as it used to.
