Page 5 of Stuck

But more importantly, Sam doesn’t understand the appeal of a sexy ice demon. I re-focus my attention. “You haven’t had enough fun with—”

He reaches across the table and touches my hand. Hidden under his fingers is an ice cube, and the cold press against my skin makes me shiver exactly as I just explained.

“Ice,” I whisper, finishing my thought.

“Tell me more about him,” Sam murmurs, his eyes carefully watching me. “He’s a man?”

“Some of the time.” I suck in a breath as he moves his touch up my hand and onto my wrist.

“More?” His fingers slide onto the inside of my arm and I turn my hand over.

Yes, more.

He continues asking questions like he’s not molesting my skin with a melting ice cube. “And the rest of the time?”

“Uh, he’s a storm. Well, a larger-than-life man-shaped demon surrounded by a storm. He needs to take that shape regularly, although he can be an only slightly larger-than-life man most of the time.”

“What happens in the summer?”

“You and your plot holes.” I swallow hard. “He’s gone in the summer. He has to travel somewhere cold.”

“Brutal.”

The lights flicker, and in a flash, Sam’s touch is gone. By the time the train car is fully lit again, he’s leaning back in his seat, the quintessential picture of the unconcerned man. I blink, adjusting to the brightness, and it’s almost like all of that didn’t just happen.

“Bon soir…”The announcement apologies for the temporary power interruption in French first, and then English. “A power cable unhooked between the cars. The problem has been repaired, and your dinner service will begin shortly.”

“No ice demon,” I say.

Sam almost smirks, but he reins it in at the last second. “Are you disappointed?”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I drain my wine glass.

“Do you want another drink?” He twists around, looking for the attendant.

I take a deep breath. “Probably shouldn’t.”

He smiles again, a slow and dangerous grin. “Probably not.”

A hot, needy tug pulls low in my belly.

His gaze slides down my body as if he knows what the wolfish smile does to me inside. Then he snaps his eyes back to my face. “Do you want to play it safe,Aibhlin?”

The inflection is more effective than a bucket of ice water on my libido. My back straightens, and I tighten my legs.

No more languid fun. This train can get moving any time now. We didn’t even get to dinner. “Oh, Sam. Why did you have to go and say it like that? Our game was so lovely there for a hot second.”

His face tightens up. “Is that what it was to you? Some kind of game?”

“Of course. And it was for you, too. Obviously, with your ‘I’m Sam. Sam Preston,’nonsense.”

His eyes flick to the window, to the now more chaotic snow and the darkness beyond. When he looks back, his smile is more familiar. Rueful.

Boyish, like I remember it from ten years ago.

When he was my best friend’s boyfriend. Sam Preston. Jock, business major, all around asshole.

He gives me a shrug that promises not much has changed. Sam doesn’t care if he hurts anyone. “You said,if you ever see me again, pretend you don’t know me. So I did exactly as requested, Hazel McLaughlin. So…who the hell are you pretending to be?”

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