“Coming to bed with you.”

There was a short, charged silence.

“It seemed an obvious thing to do, after all that kissing,” Jean added.

“Obvious!”

“Well a…possible way to go on,” she said, echoing their earlier conversation. “So I decided.”

“Do I have anything to say about it?”

“No.”

Sitting on the other side of the bed, he was outlined by firelight. His head moved interrogatively.

“I mean, you don’t have to say anything.” Jean had been taught that men were always eager for physical passion. A young lady was trained to discourage them, never to allow them the least opening because they would immediately take advantage. Had her mother been wrong about this, too? “Unless you don’t want to?” she added. Humiliation threatened to engulf her.

“Oh, I want to.” His voice was throaty, thrilling. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“We’re not going to worry,” Jean replied. “Or argue. We’re going to indulge.”

That final word, and the way she said it, roused Benjamin to a state where it was difficult to think. “But have you considered…”

“Could you just keep quiet?” she interrupted.

He could, but should he? Taut with desire, amused, and just slightly offended, Benjamin didn’t know. Before he could decide, Jean lunged across the bedclothes, pushed him flat, and kissed him. Her aim was a bit off, but she soon remedied that. Her skills had benefitted from their previous kisses. Her body was a soft, sensuous pressure on his.

Benjamin’s objections went up in flames. He sank into the kiss. He let his hands go where they’d been wanting to for days—up along her ribs, over her breasts, down the lovely curve of her back. He made it a tantalizing game, getting her to gasp and moan. She wriggled atop him as if to get closer. Her knees slid down on either side of his hips, and he moaned himself.

He eased her nightgown up her thighs. She straightened above him, grasped the hem with both hands, and pulled it off, throwing the filmy garment across the bed toward the door. Benjamin laughed. She really was the most astonishing creature.

He stopped laughing when she began to unbutton his nightshirt, from the neck down over his chest and the muscles of his torso. Her fingers were quick and deft. She had to rise on her knees to get the last few buttons, a process that set him groaning again. She pushed the cloth away, leaving only his arms covered, and bent to kiss him again. Her skin was hot against his. They were burning each other up. He ran his hands up and down her body.

His sleeves were an annoyance. Holding her against him, Benjamin turned over and ripped off the nightshirt. He looked down at Jean. Her eyes were pools of darkness, her skin pale as moonbeams. She reached for him, and he willingly went. Indulging indeed in kisses and touches and excited murmurs. He made certain that his caresses carried her over the peak of desire before he entered her to find his own delicious relief.

Afterward, they lay curled together, panting, while heartbeats and breathing slowed. A tide of tenderness washed over Benjamin.

“That was rather good,” she said. Her tone was contemplative.

“Rather?” he replied. “Good?” He was amused but piqued as well.

“All in all.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Parts of it were quite wonderful,” she went on. “Most of them really.”

“And the other…parts?” Benjamin tried not to feel criticized.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not the least offended.” He wasn’t. Not offended. He was just a little irked. She’d certainly seemed to be enjoying herself. “Merely curious.”

“Well, there were a few awkward bits,” Jean said. “I’m sure they were my fault.”

“If I hurt you—” He hated the idea.

“Not really. And it’s nearly obligatory, I understand.”