A half an hour or maybe longer—it’s hard to tell time out here—I’m regretting this decision.

Just like the weatherman said, tonight—the last night of this week of storms—is getting bad again. Fat flakes descend around me, sticking to my hair, my face, melting on my jacket. And I can’t even find the road, let alone follow it. I walked past my car, straight ahead toward the path I drove down to get to this cabin the day I got stranded. But there’s nothing along this road except for snow, snow, and more snow.

Assuming I’m even still on the road. I can’t tell. Not with the snow several feet deep for miles around.

I turn around, defeated, realizing I need to head back. However pissed I am at Tony, it’s not worth dying of exposure out here in a failed attempt to find rescue.

But then I freeze, startled. Because I’d forgotten about the fat flakes sticking in my hair. Or rather, they’re coming down a lot heavier and faster than I expected. Heavy enough and fast enough to start to bury the footprints I’ve left in the snow so far.

I speed up, jogging back along my tracks as far as I can follow. But after a certain point, the tracks disappear, and despite squinting through the dark night, I can’t make out the glow of our cabin windows anymore, or see the wood smoke anywhere. My chest tightens. Panic starts to set in.

What have I done? I won’t last long out here. Not without shelter. Not without some indication or way to find home again.

Then I hear it.

Faint, to my left, but getting louder when I hold my breath and strain my ears.

“Corina!”

Tony. Shouting. Knowing I’ll need it—some sound, some direction to follow home.

I start to jog toward the sound. A few moments later, I crest over a hill of snow and catch a glimpse of the cabin, its cozy yellow lighting more inviting and appealing than ever.

“Tony!” I call back.

“Corina, come back,” he shouts.

I’m running now, as fast as my quickly numbing limbs will allow me to move. I didn’t realize how stiff they’d gotten or how deep the cold had settled into my bones until I tried to move. I reach the cabin door, panting, shivering, and nearly collapse when I stumble up to the threshold.

Tony is standing just outside, in full snow gear. He holds a rolled-up magazine to his mouth to amplify his voice. The moment he sees me, he drops it and rushes to grab me. “Thank fuck,” he gasps, scooping me up into his arms before I can protest.

I can’t protest, actually, I realize. I’m shaking too hard. And my throat feels dry from panting, running in the freezing cold air. I open my mouth, but the only sound that comes out is the chatter of my teeth.

So. Cold.

“Corina, I’ve been calling for you for an hour,” he pants as he carries me into the house.

An hour? Was it really that long?

He tugs the door shut behind us and carries me straight to the couch, where he piles both blankets onto me as he turns to stoke the fire.

“B-but—” I manage to stammer. “We… have to… save…”

Tony has a mind of his own now, though. He throws every last piece of wood we have into the fireplace, until the flames are roaring, and still I’m shivering. “I tried walking as far as the rope I found in the shed would let me, in every direction. I used that to keep finding my way back to the cabin—I couldn’t find your tracks anymore, though, after about half an hour…”

I wince. “S-s-s-so… rry…”

“Don’t.” He closes the fireplace and spins to face me, his expression serious. “I’m just glad you’re safe now.” He steps over to the couch and rubs my arms. “We need to warm you up.”

Now I need to speak up. “T-tony. C-c-can’t. Need to… s-save wood.”

“No. We need to save you.” He sizes me up, my chattering teeth and the shivers I can’t stop. My fingertips and my toes still feel numb, but worse than that, my whole body just feels… cold. Tony can clearly see that, too. After a moment’s consideration, he strips off his shirt.

“Wh-what… about… you,” I manage.

“I’m plenty hot enough for both of us,” he replies, and tries for a little grin. It fails because underneath I can see how worried he is, how his eyes track my every shiver. He pushes down his jeans, then crawls under the blankets with me. I gasp at the touch of his skin, so warm against my freezing body.

He starts to strip off my clothes. I’m shaking too hard to protest anymore, or do anything really but stare at the fireplace across the room. At the last of our wood going up in flames.

What are we going to do tomorrow?

Tony won’t let me worry about it now, clearly. He pulls off my shirt, my jeans, strips me down to my underwear, and then wraps his body around mine, curved around me on the couch. I grab his hand, but he takes both of my hands—which must be freezing, to judge by how white-hot his skin feels on mine—and puts them under his arms, clenching tight to pin them in one of the warmest spots on his body.

If it makes him too cold, he doesn’t let it show. He just keeps those steady green eyes on my face, watching me, gauging my reaction. I sink into him and let the shivering slowly pass. Eventually, my teeth stop their chatter, and I thaw enough to be able to feel the heat from the flames, the warmth of his skin.

I gasp in a mix of pain and relief. Pain because my fingers and toes and the tip of my nose have all begun to burn with the pain of returning blood flow. Relief because now, finally, my bones are beginning to feel something like warmth again.

Tony, for his part, hasn’t let go of me yet. He weaves his fingers through mine and he’s rubbing the back of my hand, my arm, my fingertips. He folds me into his arms, pulling my body against his warm one, and I almost start to drift off there, eyelids fluttering half-closed as I listen to his heartbeat, feel my body tingling and aching as it begins to recover from my flight. Between that and the cheery crackle of the wood in the fireplace, the weight of the heavy blankets over us, I’m warm enough that I could sleep now, safely.

Safe. That’s how I feel in his arms. Safe and protected… I’m almost asleep when his voice stirs me again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

I blink back awake. “No, Tony, I’m sorry.” I tighten my grip on his hands.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I should have been honest with you. I should trust you by now. I know that. I just… It’s hard to talk about because…” He pauses. Swallows so loud I can hear it.

I lean back against him. “It’s okay, Tony. If you don’t want to tell me…”

“I do, though.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Corina, I don’t think you’re spoiled. Not now that I know you. I had it all wrong, because… I knew your father.”

Whatever I expected, it wasn’t that. I spin around to stare at him.

He spreads his hands, an apologetic, regretful look on his face. “You know he’s an alum. He’s been involved in the school since long before you started attending—he’s one of our main contributors. He donates more than most of the other alumni combined, and so did your grandfather before him. Your father, though, he takes advantage of that position. Sets all kinds of rules about who can use the money and where and when and for what. He tried to get me fired on more than one occasion simply because he didn’t approve of the direction we were taking this department.”

My brow furrows. I knew my father was involved in old university stuff—alumni events, fundraisers. I didn’t think he was that serious about it though. Not serious enough to try to fire someone over anything.

Tony shakes his head. “Anyway, I knew you got into the school because of him. I’m sure you had good grades too, but you’d have gotten in no matter what. And your teachers, they’ll all have given you great grades no matter what kind of work you did because your father was behind the scenes threatening them at every wrong turn.”

I flinch. I didn’t know about that either. Daddy and I are going to have to have a talk about this, if he’d really done that… “So you took it out on me,” I say softly.

“I’m sorry. I just, I knew everything he’d done, and I assumed you were in on it, that you’d asked him to do it.”

“Of course not. I would never.” I clench my fists, my brow contracting. “I can’t believe my father would do that behind my back.”

“Well, now I know that about you, of course. But before, I… I’m sorry, Corina. I judged you. I took my anger at your father out on you. I made you a target. And I don’t know how to apologize enough.” He gazes into my eyes, his own so full of heartache that I can’t help it. I reach up and cup his cheek. Draw him closer until our lips are inches apart.

“I understand,” I murmur. “This semester sucked, and I was pissed at you for treating me like that, and today I got even more angry that you wouldn’t explain why you did… But I get it. Really. And I forgive you.”

He closes his eyes. “I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“I do, Tony. But…”

“What is it?” he asks softly, when I don’t elaborate.

I bite my lip, unable to meet his gaze now. “You were right, the other day,” I murmur. “When you called this dangerous. We can’t do this anymore.”

He freezes. I look up to find him frowning, eyes intense. “What are you saying?”

“Tony, I’ve loved this time together. It’s been…” I shake my head. “Against all odds, being trapped in this cabin has been incredible—because of you. Because you’ve been here with me, to talk to, to help me through it. But once we leave…” I bite my lip on a bitter, dark laugh. “I mean, assuming we even get out of this alive, of course. Once we leave, if we ever do… Everything goes back to normal.”

“Why does that have to be?” He asks it slowly, brows knit, as though this is a real question.

I blink in confusion. “I… I’m your student, and you have your job to do, and this was just a dalliance, just some fun—”

“Corina.” His eyes bore into mine. Pin me in place. “What I feel for you… This is more than fun. I care about you, I want to be with you.” He grips my hands tighter, pulls me back in close to him. I can feel every inch of his body against mine, including the slight swell in his boxers, the only thin scrap of fabric that separates us. His muscles tense against me as he holds me tight. “I know we’d have to be careful for the next few months, until you graduate, until you’re free. But I don’t care, I’ll wait. Corina, I didn’t know I could feel like this for anyone. The way I feel about you…”

“I thought you’d want me to end it,” I whisper.

“I want you.” His lips crash into mine, and I sink into him. Let him cup my cheek and pull me in close. I’m suddenly aware of our bodies pressed together, bare skin against bare skin. Even more so when he drops one hand under the covers and slides it along the flat plane of my stomach to my hip, my thigh, clenching my leg, lifting it up and over his waist.

I arc my hips to angle them forward, until my clit presses against the hard bud of his cock, still constrained in his boxers.

He reaches down and, in one swift motion, tugs my underwear off.

I reach down too, feel for the hem of his boxers, and push them down. His cock springs free, the velvet smoothness of it hotter than ever when it digs into my stomach, freed from its constraints. I tug until he kicks off his boxers, and then I let my hand drift back up to explore his cock. Slowly trace his length.

He drops one finger to slide it back and forth along my slit. I’m already wet with desire, getting wetter every second as he strokes me.

“Corina,” he whispers into my mouth. “I want you, every way I can have you. I’ve always wanted you, always will…”

I lean back just far enough to grin, mischief sparking in my eyes. “You want me, Professor Lakewood?” I arch my hips, press his cock closer toward the entrance of my pussy.

White-hot desire flares in his gaze. “Fuck yes, Corina.”

“Then take me, Professor.” I spread my legs, keep one wrapped around his waist.

He takes advantage of that and grabs me with both hands. Flips us over until I’m pinned beneath him on the couch, and his body weight sinks against me, a heavy, welcome pressure that only increases my desire. I wrap both legs around his waist now, and arch up against him. We both moan aloud as he slides his cock along my slit, back to front, slowly, and then back again, coating himself in my juices. I am so wet I can’t stand it. I groan and reach down to wrap my fist around his cock, stroking him.

He smirks and catches my mouth in another kiss, this one hard and fast. He nips my lower lip as we break apart. “Hungry for me, Corina?”

“Always,” I whisper.

That smirk widens. He positions the tip of his cock at my entrance, toys with me, little tiny thrusts against my pussy that aren’t enough to thrust inside. Not yet. “You want this? You want my hard cock?”

“Fuck yes, Tony. I want you to fuck me. I’m yours.”

“That’s right.” He locks eyes with me, and I cannot get enough of the hunger in them, the fire as he slowly leans down and presses his cock inside me, an inch at a time, stretching my walls wider. “You’re mine, Corina. And I’m yours. We belong like this.” When he’s fully inside me, he pauses a moment, letting me adjust to his size, and I squeeze my pussy, savoring the feeling of having his cock buried in me, filling me in a way I’ve never felt filled before.

Feeling like I belong. Feeling satisfied. Right. “Tony…”

“Corina.” He stills for a moment, completely inside me. He brushes a hair back from my forehead. I reach up to cup his cheek. “I’m falling for you,” he breathes.

I lean up, close the distance between us. With our lips an inch apart, I whisper, “I’m falling for you too…” His lips press into mine, soft and sweet. When he pulls back, it’s slow, so slow, and he thrusts back in to meet me again, both of us gasping with pleasure.

This time, we don’t go hard and fast. Not yet. We take our time. Savor it, feel every inch of each other. My hands roam across his back, his chest, his washboard abs, along his biceps. His hands trail across my breasts, circle and tease my nipples, before he runs them down my sides to my waist, my hips, my thighs. “You are so fucking glorious,” he murmurs between kisses. “I could study your body for hours…”

He draws one hand in between us to stroke my clit gently, toying with me until I’m moaning into his mouth, and then he fucks me a little faster, harder. My hips buck, and he grins down at me. “Come for me, Corina. Please…”

My head falls back against the couch as I near my climax. He keeps stroking, keeps fucking me in that steady, slow rhythm, even as his finger moves faster, circles my clit, teases and toys with me. He increases the pressure, and a faint cry escapes me, my pussy clenching around his cock at the same time.

“I love the way you come,” he says, eyes locked on mine, savoring the moment.

I’m still twisting beneath him, so close now my whole body is trembling on the brink of release.

“You look so fucking gorgeous when you lose control.”

I lock eyes with him. Let myself fall, over the edge, into the orgasm. He strokes me harder, thrusts into me again and again, adds his thumb along my clit, and suddenly, my whole body shakes. I cry out, breathless, as I come. Fire fills my whole body—I don’t even remember being cold anymore, not with him heating me like this. My pussy clenches hard around him, spasms, and that sets him off. He grabs my hips with both hands, thrusts into me faster, faster.

I’m still sensitive from the orgasm. When he grabs my hips and pulls my ass and thighs up off the couch around his waist, angles himself down into me so that the head of his cock strokes along my G-spot with each thrust, I start gasping again, nearing the edge once more.

He’s lost in his own pleasure now, a wild animal with lust in his eyes as he gazes at me, thrusting into me over and over.

I look down to savor the sight of his thick cock pounding into me, wet with my juices. His abs contract as he pumps against me, and I reach up to grab his shoulders, pull his face down toward mine just as he nears his own climax. The feeling of the swollen head of his cock is too much for me. I cry out with my second orgasm, and my pussy clenches hard around him. He comes then, with a guttural growl, and clutches me tight against him.

We both collapse against the couch, tangled and drenched in sweat. But he stays inside me, stays lying along me, even when his cock begins to soften. We lie like that, pinned together, and I savor the feeling of being with him, having him inside me, so completely filling me.

When he finally does roll off, we both laugh a little at the cum that trickles down my inner thigh. He tugs me against him, curled up on that couch together, and repositions the blankets over us. The fire is still burning bright, I think, as I gaze into the flames, my eyelids growing heavy.

At least it will last the night…

We’ll figure out what to do about everything else in the morning.