Page 18 of Stuck

Fucking. Not loving.Keep it real, Sam.Our conversation on the train rockets through my mind. Neither of us are romantic. I can’t confuse great sex—mind-blowing sex—with more complicated emotional attachment.

I roll onto my back, pulling her with me. “Ride me, Hazel.”

Her eyes sparkle as she wiggles on top of me. “Make me, Sam.”

I squeeze her hips, urging her up. Her eyes flash, and she pushes against me, my cock disappearing inside her again.

My brain stutters over how good it feels to be fully sheathed in her sweet, tight cunt. I force her up again, her gasping cry a gorgeous reward. She resists again, sliding her heat back over me. We play that game for a few more thrusts, then I take over, holding her place with a firm grip as I fuck her from below.

Hard, demanding thrusts. Take it, come for me, take it, take my love, be more perfect. A riot of sensations takes off, numbing my thoughts as she begins to shake. My thumb finds her clit, giving her something to grind against as I drive up and into her on a final ruthless plunge.

And then she collapses, and I’m coming, I’m coming, deep inside her, and the thoughts rush back.

So perfect, so warm, so real.

Hazel.

Our second roundof sex starts in the shower.

It ends with a hard, fast screw on the floor three feet from the shower, with Hazel perched on my lap, my cock buried deep in her clutching pussy.

She presses her forehead against mine, and the damp tendrils of her hair curtain us in.

Another cocoon. Another safe space for me to lose myself in her.

To pretend I’m not stuck in a weird place in my life where I’m desperately grateful for all that I have—and hating it all the same.

“Come for me, Sam,” she whispers, and I do. Hard, fast, blindingly.

After we clean up again, we crawl naked into my bed.

Outside, the snow has died down. I gesture to the dark sky and the distant glint of a star. “The ice demon doesn’t seem upset now.”

“He convinced his beloved to return to his fortress with him.” She wriggles in my arms. “That is not a metaphor for anything.”

A pain that feels a lot like regret spasms in my chest. “I wouldn’t presume.”

“It’s just good storytelling.”

“Very.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I run my fingers through her hair. “Sam?” Before I can answer, my phone vibrates on the night stand. It’s the middle of the night. She glances toward it. “Do you want to check that?”

No, I want to bury myself in her body and pretend my life and all the complications that come with it don’t exist. “I probably should.”

“Go.” She rolls away from me, flopping out in the middle of my bed. A naked goddess, a blast from the past, when I was still a fuck-up but in other ways, less complicated ways.

I grab the phone. It’s a text message from Grace, and that awful regret in my chest twists tighter. I don’t click into the message right away. I don’t want to. Whatever Luke has done, if he’s missing or they’re fighting, I don’t want to deal with it right now.

Grace: Are you up? I know it’s the middle of the night.

Sam: I’m up. What’s wrong?

Grace: I need to talk to someone.

I glance back at Hazel. At her bare skin, her dark gaze, locked on my face. My stomach churns. “It’s my sister-in-law.”

She nods. “Do what you need to do.”

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