Page 31 of Tempt

She’s blushing when she looks up and thanks me for the drink, which makes me curious. “What were you just writing that made your cheeks go pink like that?”

The blush deepens. “A story idea.”

“Can I ask about it?”

Her eyes go wide, the pulse at the base of her neck fluttering like mad, but she finally nods. Leaning closer, she shows me the screen of her phone. “I know I said I didn’t want to work over the holidays, but sometimes these things just come to me.”

It’s a cryptic list of bullet-point ideas.

A castle

A central fireplace

Ropes holding up tapestries

A captive woman bound against the tapestry with those same ropes

The ropes have a mind of their own? Controlled by a demon? Feels like being held down by many people. Do the ropes wriggle against her, like they’re aroused, too?

As I read the list, my cock thickens, lengthens, and I shift in my chair, but I’m beyond finding a more comfortable position now. Where the hell does her mind come up with these things? And how am I supposed to get her back to the room and stretched out on the bed beneath me without anyone noticing I’m practically turning into the ice demon myself?

“Sam?” My name is a breathless question.Do you like it?

“You are…utterly surprising. And remarkable.” I swallow hard around the thick block in my throat. “You got all that from just sitting here?”

“It’s what I do.”

“Amazing.” And because I’m sure I’m about to become her number one fan, I need to ask. “Do you need to write more? Can I get you your computer?”

She giggles. “No, just getting the idea down for now is enough. It might percolate in the back of my mind for months, or years. I might not ever write it.”

“You need to write that.” I’m not ashamed of the urgency in my voice. Fuck, that idea is a gift to the world. Or at least to me. “Do you ever tell stories out loud? Maybe for an audience of one? I could be a patron of the arts.”

I love the way she laughs. I like the way she sighs and looks me straight in the eye even more. “I don’t need a patron, Sam. Just to be clear.”

“You do okay?”

A confident, secret smile is the only response.

Hazel has more than a decade of very good reasons to keep her cards close to her chest, I don’t blame her, but the intimacy we have during sex—searing, raw reveals, every single time—has my head spinning a bit.

How far can I push her?

I don’t want to find the line. Don’t want to do anything that will ruin these few days she’s granted me.

I have until Christmas Day to figure out how to show her I’m a changed man, worthy of a second—third, fourth fifth—chance.

9

Hazel

The next dayis more of the same. Sex, friendship, re-connection. Good food, great wine, and Christmas cheer. We even play Scrabble next to the giant fireplace, and Sam comes very close to kicking my ass.

“Mizzlyis not a word,” I say as he uses five of his last seven letters—including a blank he saved to the very end—to build that off my just-playedquiz.

“Are you challenging?”

“God no. I can do math as well as you can re-arrange letters. I’m ahead by just enough points that you can have that momentary victory.”

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