"Remy," she said, stalling him before he settled in. "I cannot let you give up your bed for me," she said with another blush, her heart pounding at what she was going to suggest. "I think it best if we both sleep in it. If you're on the floor, you won't know if I'm in trouble. I just... I'm not used to being that close to anyone... especially a man. But you are clearly a gentleman. You're Meme would be proud. Just please don't... do anything," she said looking down.
Dust was never so forward. Lord above, she'd never even kissed a boy. It had taken her a very long time to even be willing to touch them on the hands. Vic had helped her get over that, as had a few of the other males she'd met. But this? To share a bed? Perhaps it was the isolation. Or perhaps it was living here where things were so different. She had been used to a lot of physical contact at home. Not with boys, of course, but with other girls. And her father, educated and liberal, had never been strict in his interpretation of appropriate behaviors at home. When his like-minded friends had been invited over, she hadn't been sequestered away. Although none of them had ever given her the pleasantly warm and tingly feeling that the though of sleeping with Remy (and by sleeping with, she meant sharing a bed, not the vulgar slang term for sexual relations) did.