The question hangs in the air, almost daring you to answer honestly. Her neckline dips low, drawing your eyes down the soft curve where shadow pools between her breasts, and suddenly forming words feels difficult.

She knows exactly what she's doing — the angle, the light catching her skin, the way she holds herself like the answer is already obvious to her.

You find yourself leaning closer to the screen, tracing that line of cleavage with your gaze, pulse ticking up a notch. Yeah. You would.