He leans into the car, reaches for the seat belt, and pulls it across my chest, buckling me in. He’s inches from me, and he smells cold like the night air. But he also smells the way a man should at the end of the day: a little bit of sweat, a lot of work, and all raw power. He brings one hand behind my head and unclips my hair, letting it fall over his fingers. I tremble from his touch as a shiver runs down my spine. “I like your hair up and I like your hair down,” he whispers to me, breaking down all my resistance in an instant.
I can see this playing out if I do nothing—I’ll spend it rewinding this moment and putting it on repeat all night long. But I don’t want to go home with only a memory to feed my body, and I can’t stand the thought of this night ending too soon.
I make my choice. There’s only one choice. “Do you want to share?” I ask, praying he lives in the same direction.
“You’re downtown, right?”