If this was the rest of her life-- she could do worse. She might do worse, if she returns home and things have changed too much, if they can't find whatever solution he found back then.

She's stopped thinking about it. Mostly. At the moment she's really stopped thinking entirely, and she sighs as he walks her back against the wall, her hands sliding down his body so one rests on his hip; she lifts the other to cling to his shoulder.

"God, yes," she murmurs against his mouth, too aware of the throb of her own racing pulse. She wants him so much, she can't imagine ever having her fill of him.