It's a bit of a balancing act at this point, struggling to slip on heels without anything to reach out to at first, but I finally nudge my hip against the wall, giving myself some leverage as I move to put one stiletto back on and then the other, easing up a few inches when I finally put my second foot back down. The question he poses is somewhat unexpected, and there's an innocence in that too that directly contrasts everything else, even the way I've just kissed him, that it makes my heart ache thinking of the possibility that I could have ruined him purely from an overeager desire to satisfy myself.

But he's still standing there, tall and slender, those jeans dipping low over his hips, looking at me with those dark eyes searching, watching. I thought they were brown at first but I'm starting to realize that isn't the case, not up close when I can finally see the blue. My resolve, my aim to make it out of here with something resembling dignity is crumbling fast, and I have the overwhelming urge to snag fingers in the denim waistband, to sink to my knees in front of him until he tangles his fingers in my hair and utters my name again.

I settle for a small, tight smile and a quick nod, conceding that much and concentrating on keeping my balance as much as possible. "Okay," I reply, absently reaching up towards my hair and almost breathing a sigh of relief when it isn't matted and tangled against my fingers. "Come on, I think there's only the one way out of here."