Oh, my God. They were going to sleep together, with no sleeping involved.
One of her arms was around his waist as her eyes fluttered open. He found himself lost in limpid blue green. She wasn’t his. Not legally. He could as yet lay no claim to her heart. He wanted the ceremony that would make her indisputably his. He wanted Sophie to be the mother of his children. He wanted Sophie. He wouldn’t ever be whole without her. If he rushed her, he stood to lose everything.
He did not want to go to his grave knowing he had risked nothing for the woman he wanted. He wasn’t an ass, though. Or if he was, he did not wish to give her incontrovertible evidence of the fact. What to say to her, then, when he knew he was likely to speak too gruffly?