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“Oh, quite the contrary, Calista. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.” And with that, he walks backward down the hall toward his classroom. He blows me a kiss and turns on his heel, swaggering away with his tight black trousers hugging his firm ass and taunting me the whole way.

The stained glass window creaks as I push it open, the ancient hinges in desperate need of oiling. I grip the crumbling window frame with white knuckles, taking a deep breath as I hoist my leg over the windowsill. My heel slips; a gasp tears from my throat before a strong hand catches me, anchoring me to his warmth in the cold night.

“Shit,” I murmur, glancing up into cool eyes, a knowing smirk written across familiar lips.

“You know, if you ever get over your fear of commitment, we wouldn’t have to risk our lives to see one another,” he chides as I right myself on the slanted roof’s edge, dusting my hands off on my sheer black pantyhose.

“It’s not a fear of commitment, as you well know. I merely prefer not to sow chaos where I dwell, Alastair.”

And as unfortunate as it is to admit, I have developed feelings for this man I dare not confess, even to myself. We see where that led me in the past, and it’s a fate I’d do well to avoid. I wouldn’t make it out alive twice.

For all that Alastair is, a hidden darkness lurks just beneath the surface of his curated charming exterior. I’d be a fool to forget that and allow myself to get lost in the ever-growing warmth that blooms in my chest at the mere thought of him.

“If you ever decide to let those walls of yours down, I’ll be right here waiting for you. Until then, I’ll continue to scale them in search of what lies beneath.” He climbs out of the window with far more grace than I’ve ever exhibited in my existence without another word.

“Don’t hold your breath, you’ll turn blue,” I murmur, paying close attention to my footsteps as I make my way to the lacy spires ornamenting the rooftop where we spend most evenings together. Evenings I wish could amount to days, weeks, and even years, but can never be more.

“No more blue than I am from lack of oxygen when I bury my face between your thighs. I’ll live,” he says with a light chuckle that reverberates down my spine.

I peer over my shoulder with a playful smirk, rolling my eyes at the wide grin he returns. “Always so unserious.”

His constant flirting and the easy banter we fall into is freeing—intoxicating. Alastair Ignatius is not an addiction I’ll readily let go of. The cruel world will have to claw him from my cold dead hands. I’ve been through too much to lose the safety I’ve found in him.

“I’m always serious when it comes to you, my ruin.”

I shake my head, copper waves rustling around my shoulders. Try as I may to brush off his sweet sentiments as if I’m unaffected by them, it’s no use. His words burrow deep into my chest, festering like a wound I’ll soon grow septic from. But there is no apothecary near, and I haven’t a desire to heal.

I plant my ass on the icy ledge of the crenellations carved into the roof, kicking my feet to coax warmth back into my numb toes. The frigid brick seeps through my wool skirt, but the discomfort is worth whatever stolen moments we manage. Even I am not masochistic enough to deny myself such a simple pleasure.

Alastair takes his seat beside me, plucking a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and handing me one. He presses his own between his lips, lighting our cancer sticks, the ends glowing with red and orange embers.

I suck the acrid smoke into my lungs, holding it for a moment before blowing it out. The gray smoke hangs in the moist air before dissipating. I hold the cigarette between my fore and middle fingers at my hip, allowing the flame to burn to ash on its own.

“You know, we’re both down to a single puff a day. It’s time we give up the habit,” he remarks. His gaze remains forward, stuck on the massive blood moon hanging high in the otherwise pearlescent black sky, nothing but a forest of barren trees and white-capped mountains for miles. I can’t help but inspect his side profile, my gaze flitting over his strong jaw, trimmed beard in various shades of red, orange, and brown. From his right side, my gaze lingers on the small patch of gray hairs clustered at his temple, and my fingers twitch with the desire to brush the fallen waves from his forehead.

“You’re right, but then what else would we do out here?” I ask, a grin curving my lips with the knowledge we find plenty to occupy our nights.

He shifts to straddle the roof’s edge, one leg hanging over as the other grounds him to the roof. Scraping the cigarette against the brick, he snuffs out his smoke. My heart seizes in my chest as he lifts a hand to my cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. It lingers against my chilled flesh, warmth radiating off him. Breath lodges in my throat, and his gaze falls to my lips.

He leans into my space, all intelligible thoughts long forgotten as he slides his hand around the nape of my neck, fingers twining in my hair.

“I have a million ideas for ways to occupy our time,” he whispers, the scent of tobacco and peppermint lingering on his breath. “Would you like to explore one that I believe we’re both familiar with?” His gaze lowers to my lips once more. My tongue darts out to moisten them, and he tracks the movement, a low groan rumbling through his chest.

I meet his lips with mine, the firm press of his warm flesh making me melt into his embrace. Sensation overwhelms me: the light tug of his hand in my roots, the nip of his teeth sinking into my lower lip, the feel of his hard body against my softer curves as he winds a strong arm around me, pulling me onto his lap. I grind myself against his hard length, our mouths competing in a dance of tongues and teeth, and I get lost in him, the way I so often do.

The way I always suspected I might.

His chest rumbles with approval, and I slide my arms around his neck, matching each of his claiming touches with desperate ones of my own. We fall into a rhythm of give and take, of greed and complete abandon—obsession and control driving our every caress.

When I pull away, it’s to catch my breath, dragging in a desperate lungful of air as Alastair presses his forehead against mine, panting along with me.

“It’s hard not to lose track of time with you,” he whispers into the hibernal night sky surrounding us.

As if summoned by the tiny beast that acts as a constant reminder of our misgivings, a window behind us creaks open, laughter spilling out into the star-dusted abyss.

My spine goes rigid.

Alastair recovers after one tense beat, tugging me to stand and gripping my hand in his large palm. He guides me along the roof’s edge back to the window we’d climbed out of. Once on solid ground, I poke my head out, peering up at the space we’d just been, now occupied by three students and their cacophony of obnoxious laughter, the scent of their poor decisions wafting around them.