I lay back against the pillows, exhausted and completely happy, waiting for that beautiful, quiet moment of connection between them.
But as Desmond looked down at her, his entire expression changed. His smile disappeared, and the color drained completely out of his face.
His eyes had locked onto a small, distinct birthmark on her exposed shoulder — a dark, slightly irregular oval, roughly the size of a thumbprint, sitting just below her collarbone.
He stood completely still, his breathing suddenly shallow.
“No,” he whispered. “That’s impossible.”
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