Page 107 of Bewitched By the Djinn
And then we’re kissing.
The pull of the bond hums through my veins, answering his like a heartbeat. It’s more than simple want, it’s need, sharp and radiant and fused with love.
My fingers find the edges of his jaw, the curve of his neck. He makes a low sound, rumbly and pleased, and deepens the kiss.
Heat unfurls in my chest. In my fingertips. Everywhere.
The bond between us throbs as if it’s alive, feeding off our connection and wrapping us tighter together. There’s a shimmer under my skin, a golden thrum like sunlight and fire and something ancient, something inevitable.
“Cassie,” he whispers against my mouth. “You’re everything.”
I can’t think. I don’t want to.
His hands slide under the hem of my shirt, warm against my waist. I shiver, not from cold but from the thrill of his touch. It’s electric but familiar. Safe. Like coming home.
I tug his shirt over his head and he lifts mine in return. Skin meets skin, and the bond flares even brighter between us. The magic is wild and exultant, glittering through every nerve.
He scoops me up in his arms and carries me across the room. We fall back into the bed, wrapped in each other.
His hands are everywhere, tracing my skin like he’s learning me all over again. His mouth follows, brushing over mycollarbone, down the slope of my shoulder. His lips are warm, tasting of jasmine and spice, the ghost of laughter still lingering in his breath.
I sink into him, fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer. Every kiss, every touch, ignites a sensation deeper than heat. It’s like pressing against the edges of a universe built just for us.
He murmurs my name like a prayer.
I answer it with a sigh, with a gasp, with my whole body.
When he slides into me, we still, savoring the connection for a long minute. Then we’re moving, together, like we always have. Like we always will.
The bond unfurls between us like a living thing, raw and radiant, a shimmering thread connecting nerve to nerve, thought to thought, soul to soul. He surrounds me, and not just in body. Our connection intensifies with every movement, in the way his breath catches, the way his hands tremble against my hips, the rush of love blooming beneath his ribs, the awe, the near-disbelief that this is real, that I am his and he is mine.
My chest aches with the sheer fullness of it all, our emotions mirroring each other and rushing back and forth, intensifying. Each touch drives the breath from my lungs and fills me up in the same instant. We’re open to each other in a way that defies language. No shields. No fear.
His forehead rests against mine, and our rhythm is its own spell, old and sacred, as if the universe built us and brought us to this moment in time. It was inevitable.
My fingers dig into his back.
Pleasure builds, along with something quieter. A tether that stretches across this world and the next.
When release finally crashes through us, it’s not a firestorm—it’s a homecoming.
A breaking and a healing all at once.
Breathless and tangled beneath the sheets, he traces slow circles on my back. “You still want to wait until next year?”
I shift like I’m going to get out of bed. “Does your kingdom have one of those drive-through wedding chapels?”
He laughs, warm and low, and pulls me back into bed.
The afternoon sun slants through my bedroom window, soft and golden, catching on the floating dust motes like they’re little bits of magic still hanging in the air.
I sit cross-legged on my bed, Bennet beside me, half a duffel bag packed with books and sketchpads between us.
He turns a little beaded keychain over in his hand. “You want to take this?”
The metal charm dangling from his fingers is shaped like a saxophone, worn smooth from time.
I shrug. “Maybe. It’s kind of silly. I bought it after a Mardi Gras parade when I got lost and found my way back by following the sound of a jazz band. I was maybe nine?”
