I'm sorry," she whispered. Zane shifted off of her. "What?" "I shouldn't have...

I'm sorry," she whispered.
Zane shifted off of her. "What?"
"I shouldn't have done that."
"Done what?"
She heard the caution in his voice.
"I was too…you know."
"I don't know," he said. "Too, what?"
"Wanton."
There wasn't any sound. Not even a hint of sound. Then he laughed. It wasn't a chuckle. It was a huge, from-the-belly laugh. The kind that made it impossible for the person laughing to move or breathe or even stop.
"Zane?" She shook his arm.
He continued to laugh. The sound seemed to echo all around them.
"Zane, stop. You'll wake up everyone."
That seemed to get his attention. She sensed his attempt to control himself, although a few guffaws escaped.
"This isn't funny," she told him in a heated whisper.
He leaned close. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him.
"Phoebe, you're the most amazing lover I've ever had. You're sexy, responsive to the point of being a lethal weapon, sweet, funny, caring and if I had a box of condoms, I'd use every single one before sunup. But you're not wanton."
His words made her feel a little better, but only a little. "I don't usually, you know, climax that much. Or at all."
"You did with me."
"I know."
"I wanted to please you."
She smiled. "I could tell."
"So what's the problem?"
"I don't want you to think less of me."
He touched her cheek, then outlined her mouth. "I think the world of you."
Her concern faded like mist in sunlight. "Really?"
He kissed her. "Absolutely.