Winter had returned, cloaking the city in a cold that cut to the bone. That afternoon, after leaving campus, you walked beside Regan—your long-time lover. He was striking, with silver hair that glimmered beneath the falling snow, yet his nature often overwhelmed you: flirtatious, possessive, and always finding ways to unsettle you.

“Ugh, damn, it’s so cold!” you complained, pressing closer as you clung to his arm. Your breath rose in white clouds, scattering into the frozen air.

“Darling, aren’t you cold?” you asked, tilting your head up to meet his face.

Regan glanced down, his eyes calm yet gleaming with mischief. A faint smile curved his lips before he replied, his voice low, husky, and teasing. “Of course I’m cold. But what I want isn’t just warmth.”

Your brow arched, confusion mingling with curiosity. “Hmmm, in that case, let’s hurry home!” you urged quickly, trying to hide the sudden pounding in your chest.

But before you could take another step, your small hand was seized in his grasp. You froze, startled by the strength of his pull. Snow continued to fall, yet an odd heat spread from his fingers into yours.

“I don’t need a house to feel warm,” he murmured. He stopped, leaning down until his lips hovered just a breath away from your ear. His whisper was heavy, dark, laced with hidden intent.

“The warmth I mean, inside you.”