Sansa's eyes dart upward, utterly shocked. He'd kissed her once in the godswood at the Eyrie and she'd pushed him away. At that time, he'd been Lysa's husband and she'd been a maiden who barely knew anything about what a man and woman did in bed with one another. Now she knows what they do together in beds but she hasn't particularly found much joy there. There hasn't been pain, for which she's been grateful, but it's still a chore to be carried out and not something she would do if she had to.

"Surely there must be other women you would rather...I barely know anything and I'm not...you won't find joy with me, Lord Baelish. I simply endure it."