His finger traced the line that ran from her under her breasts to her pubis. She closed her eyes; a smile curling the corners of her lips.
‘What’s this called again?’ he asked.
She chuckled softly, ‘Linea nigra,’ she murmured. ‘Black line.’
‘But it’s not black, Shaz. It’s barely even visible.’
‘I know, hun. Some women don’t even have it at all. For others, it’s pronounced.’
His finger kept following the line, up and down. He stared at her, amazed, overwhelmed, anticipating all that was to come. Only a few weeks left now. They were ready. Well, maybe she was—she seemed so calm, so immersed in the whole experience. He felt terror, mostly.
As he watched, her entire belly moved in a gentle undulated quiver, like water lapping onto the shore. The shape of a foot pushed upwards from within.
Her eyes flew open. Wide, bright, expectant. Her hands darted to caress her bump. ‘Did you see that, Baz?’
‘Are you kidding me! How could I not? That was freakin’ awesome!’