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Mornings like this

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Zach woke suddenly one winter morning, wondering what had pulled him out of a sleep so sound that he didn’t even remember falling into it. His eyes scanned the room, but nothing was out of place and the light peeking around the curtains on the windows seemed to be the same thin daylight he was used to seeing when he woke. As he looked over at his wife, a poke in his ribs resolved the question. Megan was smiling at him, eyes soft, her face lit with happiness and contentment in the way that only happened when she was pregnant—which, he reminded himself with a grin, was pretty much all the time. She snuggled her head further onto his shoulder, running her hand over her naked belly and then continuing onto his much flatter one. “He’s active this morning,” she said, her lips twitching with amusement that she tried to hide and failed to.

A third poke in the side led Zach to turn towards his wife, leaving his arm under her neck as he directed a stern look at her currently undulating belly. “Now, then,” he informed the wriggling movements, “I thought we had agreed that you were not to disturb your mother’s and my sleep at least until you were born.”
At that, Megan did laugh, hard enough that she had to sit up in order to breathe deeply. Zach sat up as well, then, slipping an arm around her as she shook with laughter, the baby’s squirming only making her laugh harder. “You’d think,” she told him as she recovered her breath, “that after as many times as we’ve done this, you’d be used to waking up with a foot between your ribs.”

He tilted her face up to his, matching her smile. “I’m sure you would,” he replied. “However, as it’s a different set of feet each time, I don’t think that I’ll ever get used to it.” His lips met hers softly, and his hand threaded through her hair as he drew her even closer. When he finally pulled away, it was only far enough to murmur in her ear as he stroked her very round belly with his other hand. “I don’t ever want the feeling of our children moving inside you to become anything but novel and miraculous, Meggie.” He shook his head slightly, nuzzling her skin where her hairline met her temple. “I don’t want to ever stop being in awe of what we’ve created between us.” He heard the soft ragged breath she let out, and pulled her gently against him, tucking her head under his chin and fitting their bodies together as he fell silent. Then her hand found his and pressed it where he could feel the notorious foot poking out once again.

“It’s always new for me, too,” she said, so softly that he wondered if she realized she had said it aloud. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards again, and she glanced sideways at him, impish delight in her eyes. “Of course, with as many times as we’ve done this, we could run out of new ways to make them…”

His mouth dropped open, and he was frozen in place for a moment before grabbing his wife and pulling her on top of him, at which she stopped laughing, the light in her eyes no longer amusement but arousal. “That, my love,” he informed her as he slid his hands from her hips up her sides to her back and then down again, inciting a moan as he passed over her swelling breasts, “will never be allowed to happen.”