"What do you want to do if you're not sleeping?"
The voice contained a huskiness.
"I want to kiss you." Amelia Clarke spoke the truth, stretched out her hand to pull out the hem of his shirt from his waistband, her little hand sliding in.
Owen Moreland dragged that shameless little hand out, "Amelia, you need to rest now."
With both hands restrained, Amelia Clarke felt somewhat discouraged and said unhappily, "Is it because my kissing is uncomfortable?"
Otherwise, why did this man show no sign of being moved at all?
"Go to sleep." This time, the man's voice carried a tone of firmness and command.
Amelia Clarke buried her face in Owen Moreland's chest, stopped fidgeting, and adopted the well-behaved appearance of going to sleep.
After a while, her voice came out low from his embrace.
"Do you like kids?"
Owen Moreland said, "No."
Amelia Clarke asked, "Why?"
Owen Moreland: "Crying and making a fuss, they're bothersome."