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.