Page 30 of Tempt

He reaches across the console and takes my hand. “Tell me more about this hotel that we’re going to.”

I recite the amenities and entertainment list by heart. “It’s a big, gothic log cabin. A cross between a luxury hotel and a rustic lodge, with a three-storey fireplace that everyone gathers around for Christmas carols and fancy drinks.”

“It sounds like something out of another time.”

“That’s the hope.”

The rest of the five-hour drive to the Quebec border passes quickly, a blur of“Do you remember this person from university?”and“I can’t believe you’ve never watched that show”and a lot of sidelong glances that make me feel toasty warm inside.

We arrive at the lodge mid-afternoon, exactly in time for the check-in I would have missed if I’d had to reschedule my train ride.

Sam pulls up to the portico and hands the keys to the valet. As we head inside, I realize his borrowed vehicle—and probably everything about him, including his expensive haircut—is more suited to this space than I could have guessed.

This is definitely more luxury hotel than remote lodge. And yet there is still that intensely gothic feel to it.

“Quite appropriate for an ice demon’s fortress, don’t you think?” Sam murmurs in my ear.

He’s not wrong.

And that one simple question gets me all heated up again and distracts me through check-in. Our shared fantasy continues, now in a real-life movie-set quality setting.

Our room is every bit as stunning as the first impression of the entrance and lobby. Dark wood beams, a king-sized bed covered in crisp white linens and the softest wool plaid blanket I’ve ever seen in my life. The window is framed in matching plaid, and outside the sun is shining off endless fields of white.

“This is better than dealing with an asshole brother,” Sam murmurs as he pulls me onto the bed.

“And way better than working over the holidays,” I whisper back. “What do you want to do first?”

Sam licks the corner of my mouth, then moves down my neck. “You. Tell me more about our ice demon.”

My pulse flutters under his attention. “What do you want to know?”

“What’s the attraction for our heroine?”

I know what he’s asking. What do I like about that particular fantasy? I close my eyes and think about it. A larger-than-life demon, furious and possessive. In real life, he’s a jerk. Within the safety of an idea I entirely control—and can twist in any direction—it’s delicious.

“Lots of things. His fury. His fear. That reaction. It’s not safe outside of a story, but that kind of all-consuming passion…” I trail off.

He pulls back a bit. His eyes are dark, searching. “Hazel, you still with me?”

I blink up at Sam. “Yes,” I breathe. “I’m with you.”

“Where’d you go?”

I kiss him softly. “I was thinking about how scared I was.”

“And now?”

“Now,” I whisper against his lips as I move in again. “I don’t want you to stop until we’re both exhausted.”

8

Sam

After sex,and before dinner, we go snowshoeing, which Hazel is very good at and I am not at all. She has the time of her life, and that’s all that matters.

Dinner spills into drinks in the lobby. There’s a huge stone fireplace in the centre of the room, and Hazel looks like she’s been transported to a magical fairytale land.

When I return from the bar with our second round, Hazel is typing furiously on her phone. She holds up her index finger, then finishes her thought.

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