[ currently, under the circumstances, she has little awareness of where the exit even is, not entirely sure if he'd been leading her to it or — no, he isn't, is he? she feels the tug that pulls her to that secluded alcove, her mouth parting to voice a protest against his suggestion, that she really should get out of here, but he steadies her once more to his body, the press of his arm secure around her front that she can feel the warmth of his arm practically nudged beneath the heavy gravity of her breasts, reminding her again of that urgency for them to be freed and touched.

she swallows against the desires, because they shouldn't be happening now, with this stranger, this man who'd simply come to her rescue — but isn't it what she wanted, why she had come to this place in the first place?

with the closeness of his hips behind her, she's sure the slightest movement would grind her ass against him, and the heightened awareness makes her all the more eager to remain still. ]

I'm ... just a bit dizzy. I think I'm just a little overwhelmed being here. [ she knows that isn't true, and something tells her that he probably could see through it too. after all, he's here too, isn't he? she tenses, his chest so firm against her back that she almost aches to stretch across it, to feel these arms move and brush over the rest of her. ] Does this happen to everyone here? The ... need of it? Wanting it this badly?