She already knows the answer. Standing there with that knowing look, small frame barely filling the doorway, the question hanging in the air like a dare she's certain you'll take.
Your hands find her narrow waist and she tilts her chin up, waiting. The recklessness of it pulls tight in your chest — no safety net, no buffer between you and every raw consequence of saying yes.
She wraps her legs around you and whispers it again, slower this time. Not a question anymore. Your fingers press into her hips and you stop thinking entirely.
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