Or, more accurately, the real problem was that Gavin’s urges were all too plain—and the woman in his arms was far too willing to accommodate his desires. Finally, in a last-ditch effort to keep his promise to himself that she would leave his bed still a virgin—no matter how fragile the distinction might be—Gavin resorted to conversation. The idea was simplicity itself. Women always wanted to natter on about nothing after they had sex, and their chitchat was always a mood-killer. Since his mood could stand some killing just now, he would encourage her to talk, and that would be the end of the problem. “Talk?” Emily said doubtfully. “You want to talk? About what?” He rolled onto his back and laced his fingers together beneath his head. “Anything. Whatever you’d like.” She stretched and her breast brushed against his side. “Anything?” Gavin groped for a topic that would bore him senseless. “What do you think of the new guests?” Emily propped herself up on an elbow.
