She returns that kiss with a touch that's almost reverent. This little intimacy between them, this closeness, this is what she needs. There's something healing in it. In the taste of his mouth, the warmth of his body wrapped around her. She shifts, slips her arms around his neck, curls her hands around his head, and sinks into him. This is not the timid kiss on his door step, or the frantic, desperate kisses of the night before.

She dares to ask for more of what he seems willing to give her. His touch. His presence. His awareness. She takes him at his word, and drinks deep, her heart rate ticking up a few notches and her breath quickening just the same. He's leaving in a few hours, and her grip on him tightens at the thought of this space without him in it.

God, she's got it bad.