“Tariq, dammit,” she said against his mouth. “Kiss me. Kiss me like I want right now.”
For a moment, he didn’t move, not a single muscle. And then a growl erupted from his chest. His arms closed around her with stunning force. He opened to her, slid his warm, wet tongue along hers, drawing out her desire and replacing it with a wicked need that consumed every inch of her body in a rush of flames.
Her muscles went lax. Her body thrummed with need. Her legs ached to slide around his hips.
She groaned as he walked her backward toward the couch, nearly cried out in ecstasy as he lowered her to the cushions. His kisses drove her mad, his tongue so slick, so firm, so delicious stroking her own. She wanted that tongue laving her breasts as it had before. Wanted to feel it slide along her sex until she came. Then she wanted it back in her mouth as she straddled his hips and lowered, taking him deep for the very first time.
Wicked, erotic images of the two of them tangled naked filled her mind. Him holding her head between his legs, forcing his cock into her mouth. Her on her knees, her ass in the air, his hand pushing her face into the floor as she struggled while he thrust into her from behind again and again and again. Him pinning her to the wall face-first, fucking her from behind, pulling her back against him and forcing her to look to the right toward another naked male body, this one hazy but clearly turned on, the face masked, the strong legs eating up the distance as he headed their way with a riding crop in his broad hand.
The last image jolted her out of the kiss. She pulled back, stared up at Tariq’s flushed face. Tried to catch her breath.
Whoa. Wait. What the hell was that? The whole multiple partners/BDSM thing definitely wasn’t something she’d ever fantasized about. She gave her head a swift shake, tried to clear the image from her mind. Only it didn’t work. The images were still there, circling, flashing, growing darker and more perverse.
She shoved Tariq away, sat up, and rubbed both hands down her face, more shaken than she wanted to admit. That wasn’t a turn-on for her. Neither was forced sex or pain. So why was she thinking of both now? Why couldn’t she get those pictures out of her brain?
“Mira?” Tariq asked, concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“I—” She drew a deep breath. It didn’t help. “I—can’t breathe.”
He moved off the couch and back a step. She pushed to her feet, stumbled by him. Stopped in the middle of the room and tried to suck back air. Her lungs felt three sizes too small. When he came up behind her and reached for her hand, she tried to push him away, but there was no strength in the shove.
“Breathe, hayaati,” he whispered.
She squeezed her eyes tight. Shook her head again. “I—I can’t get them to stop. The pictures won’t go away.”
“Ghuls,” he growled.
She had no idea what that meant, but even as the images assaulted her all over again, she heard him muttering words in a foreign language. Words she didn’t understand. Slowly, the images fled, leaving behind nothing but mist and fog. And before she could ask what he’d just done, her muscles went lax, and darkness spiraled in.
Mira blinked several times. She had no idea how long had passed or what had happened, but when she finally pulled her eyes all the way open, she found herself looking up at the dark, vaulted ceiling in her bedroom.
“There, hayaati,” a male voice whispered—Tariq’s voice. “Don’t move too much just yet.”
Something cool brushed across her forehead. She blinked several times again, realized she was lying on her bed. The bathroom door was ajar, letting in just enough light to illuminate the room. Shadows played over Tariq’s face, but even with them, she could see the concern.
“Wh-what happened?”
“You were being influenced,” he said with a shot of anger in his normally calm voice.
“Influenced?” That didn’t make sense. By who? By what?
“I told you last time I was here that there are good and evil djinn. That some prey on those in your realm, force humans to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do? They showed up because of me. I should have expected this.”
As he spoke, Mira thought back to what he’d told her before, then to the way she’d demanded Tariq kiss her only a few moments ago. Embarrassment rushed through her, followed by the memory of those images. And the desire to be the center of each wicked, naughty, X-rated scene.
Her cheeks heated. She looked away from his face. But his finger tipping her chin back toward him stopped her.
“You are safe now, Mira. I banished them.”
“Them?”
“There were two. Ghuls. The most perverse of all the tribes. I didn’t sense them when I first appeared because you…distracted me.” This time, it was his turn to blush. But the color faded from his cheeks before she could register anything other than surprise. “There’s no telling how long they were here tormenting you. But they’re gone now. You have nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about except him and this insane desire still rushing through her veins. Was that a result of the Ghuls? Of her? Of Tariq? And what would happen when he left? Would those things—those Ghuls—come back?
She swallowed hard, for the first time realizing she was dabbling in something way outside her expertise, then looked at his strong chest covered by the thin black T-shirt. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did need to rethink this whole wish thing. She was opening herself up to some pretty weird shit here.
But even as she debated, she knew she didn’t want to go back on her wish. Her need for Tariq was still as strong as it had been before. And deep inside, she knew that had nothing to do with those Ghuls. She’d wanted him since the beach. No, since before that. Since she’d first seen him standing in her living room. Yes, that whole influencing thing was pretty freaking nuts, but the images were now gone, and those things weren’t preying on her anymore. As long as Tariq stayed with her, she knew she’d be safe. He’d said they’d showed up because of him. When her wish was finished, those Ghuls wouldn’t care about her anymore, would they?
The key was keeping Tariq with her. And finding a way to make him want her as much as she wanted him.
Unease rippled through her. The same unease she felt whenever she passed Devin in the halls at work or tried to come up with a reason to run into him after hours. This was what she wanted to change. This lack of self-confidence. She wanted to be desirable. Strong. Craved.
Except…yeah, that was easier said than done. And even though she’d wished for it, he didn’t seem very eager to teach her.
She closed her eyes, rolled her head on the pillow as a lump grew in the center of her throat. Maybe she was just destined to be alone. Maybe love and marriage and the whole happily-ever-after thing wasn’t in the cards for her.
“It’s okay, Mira.”
His hand brushing her shoulder brought her eyes open. She looked up at him. At his deeply tanned skin, at the scar above his left eyebrow she hadn’t noticed before, at those dark, dark, haunting eyes. Eyes she wanted to lose herself in. Even if it was just temporary.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked.
“What?”
“Are you attracted to me?”
Color tinged his cheeks once more as he moved back an inch. “I—”
She pushed up to sitting, brushed her hair back from her face. There was no sense going ahead with this if he wasn’t at least a little attracted to her. She couldn’t just use him as some so easily did. And if she didn’t ask, she’d just drive herself nuts wondering. “Tariq, you said you wanted to be with me before. Do you still?”