Snowbound

Colby’s smile is slow and bright, like the sun breaking through the clouds. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, his face buried in your hair. You cling to him, your eyes closing, your heart full to bursting.

You don’t know what the future holds. You don’t know if you’ll be able to reconcile your feelings for Colby with your need for justice. You don’t know if this fragile thing between you will survive the harsh light of reality.

But for now, in this moment, it’s enough.

You pull back after a long moment, your cheeks warm, your thoughts still scattered. Colby’s hand lingers on your waist, his touch light but possessive, and you feel it like a brand.

“We should get some sleep,” you say, your voice rough. “It’s been a long day.”

Colby nods, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “Yeah,” he agrees, his thumb grazing the sliver of skin between your shirt and the waistband of your jeans. “We should.”

Neither of you move.

“You take the bed,” Colby says finally, his voice low. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You shake your head before he’s even finished speaking. “Don’t be stupid. The bed’s big enough for both of us.”

His eyebrow arches, a teasing curve at the corner of his mouth. “Is that an invitation, Torres?”

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile of your own. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just being practical. The couch is lumpy as hell.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, his hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back, guiding you toward the stairs. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You let him lead you up the narrow staircase, your heart hammering in your chest, your thoughts a jumbled mess. You know this is a bad idea, know that sharing a bed with Colby Cassin is a recipe for disaster. But some part of you, some reckless, self-destructive part, doesn’t care.

At the top of the stairs, you hesitate, suddenly unsure. Colby’s hand presses against your back, warm and reassuring, and you take a steadying breath.

“Second thoughts?” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You shiver, leaning into him without conscious thought. “Every minute of every day,” you admit, your voice rough. “But that’s never stopped me before.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rich, and you feel it vibrate through you. “No,” he agrees, his hand slipping under your shirt to rest on the warm skin of your lower back. “I don’t imagine it has.”

You turn in his arms, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. You can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, the steady thump of his heart against your palm. “This doesn’t change anything, you know,” you say, your voice low. “The story still comes out. I’m still going to expose you.”

Colby’s expression sobers, his eyes searching yours. “I know,” he says, his voice quiet. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He leans in, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “But maybe, just for tonight, we can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Maybe we can just be two people, finding comfort in each other in the middle of a snowstorm.”

It’s a pretty picture he paints, a tempting one. You want to believe it, want to lose yourself in the fantasy. But you’re not built for fantasy, never have been. You’re built for reality, for hard truths and harder choices.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you admit, your voice hushed. “I don’t know how to turn off the part of me that sees you as the enemy.”

Colby’s hand comes up to cradle your face, his touch impossibly tender. “Then don’t,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. “I’m not asking you to be someone you’re not. I’m just asking you to let me in. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. You’re tired, you realize suddenly. Tired of fighting, tired of hating, tired of carrying the burden of the world on your shoulders. For once, you want to let someone else carry it for a while. For once, you want to let yourself be weak.

“Okay,” you breathe, the word escaping before you can call it back. “Okay. Just for tonight.”

Colby’s smile is soft, almost sad, when you open your eyes. He takes your hand, leading you into the bedroom, into the unknown. You follow, your heart in your throat, your thoughts a chaotic jumble.

You don’t know what the morning will bring. You don’t know if you’ll regret this come sunrise. But for now, in this moment, it’s enough.

You follow Colby into the bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest, your thoughts a chaotic mess. The room is small, dominated by a king-sized bed with a heavy wooden frame, the quilt on top looking thick and warm. A single window is set high in the far wall, the panes rattling with the force of the wind outside.

Colby turns to face you, his expression serious, his eyes dark and intense. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You nod, your throat tight, your mouth dry. “Yeah,” you say, the word barely more than a rasp. “I’m sure.”

He steps closer, his hands coming up to rest on your hips, his touch light but possessive. “Because we don’t have to do anything,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. “We can just sleep. I’m okay with that.”

You shake your head, your hands fisting in the fabric of his t-shirt. “No,” you say, your voice stronger this time. “I want this. I want you.”

His eyes darken, his grip on your hips tightening. “Thank fuck,” he breathes, and then his lips are on yours, hot and hungry, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desperation that matches your own.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, your arms circling his neck, your body pressing against his. You can feel the heat of him through your clothes, the hard planes of his chest, the firm muscles of his back. He groans into your mouth, one hand sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you closer, grinding you against the hard line of his erection.

You break the kiss with a gasp, your head falling back, your breath coming in harsh pants. Colby takes advantage, his lips trailing down your jaw, your throat, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there. You shudder, your fingers pressing hard into his shoulders, your hips rocking against his without conscious thought.

“Fuck, Milo,” he groans, his voice rough, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re killing me.”

You laugh, the sound breathless and strained. “Likewise,” you manage, your hands sliding under his t-shirt, finding warm skin and hard muscle. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

He laughs against your skin, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, and then he’s kissing you again, his hands sliding under your ass, lifting you easily. You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms tightening around his neck, and let him carry you the few steps to the bed.

He lays you down gently, his body coming to rest on top of yours, his weight a welcome pressure. You moan into his mouth, your legs falling open, cradling him between your thighs. He groans, his hips rolling against yours, the friction sparking pleasure through your veins.

“Clothes,” you gasp, tearing your mouth from his. “Too many clothes.”

He nods, pushing himself up on his elbows, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “Agreed,” he says, his voice rough. He sits back on his heels, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion.

You take a moment to appreciate the view, your mouth going dry at the sight of his bare chest, the defined muscles of his abs, the trail of dark hair leading down into the waistband of his jeans. “Fuck,” you breathe, your hand reaching out without conscious thought, your fingers brushing over his collarbone, his nipple.

He shudders, his eyes fluttering closed, his head falling back. “Your turn,” he rasps, his voice strained.

You hesitate for a second, some part of you still resisting, still holding back. But then you remember your promise to yourself, your determination to let go, just for tonight, and you sit up, reaching for the buttons of your flannel shirt.

Colby watches you with hungry eyes, his hands resting on his thighs, his chest rising and falling with his harsh breaths. You take your time, your fingers clumsy on the buttons, your heart hammering against your ribs. When you finally get the shirt open, you shrug it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the bed behind you.

Colby’s gaze drops to your chest, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. “Fucking hell,” he breathes, his hands clenching into fists. “You’re gorgeous.”