“Benedict?” she whispered, forgetting that she still called him Mr. Bridgerton. He smiled. It was a small, knowing sort of smile, one that sent chills right down her spine to another area altogether. “I like when you say my name,” he said. “I didn’t mean to,” she admitted. He touched a finger to her lips. “Shhh,” he admonished. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t you know that’s not what a man wishes to hear?” “I don’t have much experience with men,” she said. “Now that’s what a man wishes to hear.”
