That heavy-lidded look he gives her says now about that kiss loud and clear, and she can feel herself starting to smile all over again when her arms snake over his shoulders and around his neck.

It's you asked for it mingled with I can't believe what we're doing and a little we had our chance to get out of this, so this is it, and she kisses him until it's hard to breathe, until her conscience gets the better of her and she defers to his leg, the reason -- she chooses to think -- he got up from their table in the restaurant when he did in the first place.

There's no reluctance when his hands tug at the hem of her shirt, no hesitation to kiss a line straight down his chest and stomach. She's got an hour, and she better get her fill for a while.

When the time is right, she eyes the slow mellow movement of his chest as he breathes until she's willing to believe he's either asleep or content to let her think he is. Taking no chances, she's quiet and careful as she slips out from between the sheets and starts putting her clothes back on.

She casts a backward look his way, her hand on her pocket to feel her key still safely tucked inside, before she moves to the door to let herself out.

It's no closer to nighttime than it was yesterday when she crept out of here, but he basically told her he didn't have a problem with her doing what she needed to do.

And she's going to do exactly that.