The moment he spoke, the restless woman in his arms quickly quieted down.
Jericho Hawthorne suddenly realized that with a woman like Seraphina Quinn, a firm hand was far more effective than a soft approach.
"Miss Quinn, if you behave, we can all get a good night's sleep."
"Otherwise, feel free to cause a scene. I'm a man, and I have all the energy in the world to keep up with you."
"I'd love to see who ends up looking better when this whole mansion knows what's going on—you or me."
Furious, Seraphina Quinn reached out and pinched his chest hard. "Don't you just want to sleep in the bed? Let me go! We'll sleep on our own sides!"
For the past three years, Jericho Hawthorne had always slept alone.
On the few occasions Rosalyn Winslow had hinted at wanting to get more intimate, he had brushed her off.
So, in his memory, this was, strictly speaking, the first time he had been this intimate with a woman.
He'd never thought there was anything wrong with sleeping alone before.
