"A nightingale," he said. The bird sang on. It sounded sorrowful to Gina. As if the nightingale sang of lost love and an impure life. Tears fell down her cheeks. "Are you crying?" Cam said in the suspicious voice of a man who hated female tears. "No," Gina said shakily. "It's just rain on my cheeks."
"Have you ever slipped into your sheets naked? Rushed outdoors in the morning before brushing your teeth? Danced on the lawn in your bare feet?"
"A good many of your fantasies seem to involve being both uncleaned and unclothed," she replied with dignity.