He wouldn't have undressed her further, and was surprised when she removed her gown. She was uncomfortable, and clearly self-conscious, from the bright blush to the biting of her lip, to the little fluttery motions of her hands, as if she wanted to cover herself.
John bent and slipped an arm beneath her knees and eased her up onto the bed, sliding in beside her. He'd been right; the dark sheets made her gleam like a pearl. He caught her hand, pressed a kiss into it, then leaned in and kissed her over her heart. Nana jumped when he put a hand on her belly, and he kissed her there next. All women were self-conscious about stretch marks, but they were just a fact of life, usually unavoidable. He eased aside the edge of her panties, and pressed a kiss to the scar just above her mons. Stretch marks and scars didn't matter to him; she was still Nana. So close and he could smell her, warmth and feminine musk, and his cock twitched in response.
Not now. It was still too soon. John smoothed her panties back into place, kissed back up her body, over her breasts until he lay beside her again, pulling her close to his chest, tugging the sheet up around them.
"I think you're beautiful," he said softly, sifting a hand through her hair. "Nothing will change that."