Page 46 of Bewitched By the Djinn
And the ancient water heater in the corner.
We stand in front of it.
I hold up my hand. “Once more with feeling?”
He wraps my fingers in his and takes a deep breath. “Are you ready?”
I nod. “Drop my shields, focus on the glory of hot water.”
A corner of his mouth tilts up. “That should do it.”
We turn back to the rusty old water heater and then I shut my eyes.
The pressure is back, coming quicker and easier than before, tugging and pulling, and then heat rushes through my core, spreading through my limbs like liquid fire.
What in the actual hell?
Arousal slams into me. Sudden and thick and drugging, spreading like molten honey down into my bones until all I know isneed. I’m so full of erotic pleasure, it borders on the edge of pain. I suck in air, gasping for breath.
Holy shit. What is happening?
I need an orgasm like I need my next breath. It’s primal. Desperate.
All my attention zeroes in on Bennet. Is he unaffected? I’m wound so tight, I might actually explode.
Dear goddess, Iachefor him.
“Can you feel that?” He asks. “There’s damage where there once was fire. Use your gift to locate where the damage is. I can help you.”
Stop being horny and focus!
I draw on our power, letting it stretch between us and flow into the water heater. The shape of the pilot assembly forms in my mind—metal parts, too cold, too still. And a hairline crack in a bracket. The gas is flowing, but the flame flickers out almost immediately.
“It can’t stay lit,” I whisper. “There’s a break in the piece that holds the flame. It won’t anchor. How do we fix it?”
“I’ll bond it with fire,” he says. “You hold the fracture in your mind. Show me how it should be so I may shape it, still it. Give me something to channel.”
I close my eyes. My magic wraps around the broken edge like invisible hands, holding it steady.
Then fire from Bennet seeps into the crack, melting the edges and welding them back together with molten precision.
We’re almost done?—
Another wave of arousal washes over me, black spots crowd my vision, and if it wasn’t for my death grip on his hand, I would collapse in a puddle on the floor.
It has to be the magic. Do I stop him? Tackle him? Dry-hump a pipe?
He pulls the flame back, the work done.
“Bennet,” I force his name through clenched teeth.
His entire body jerks. Shoulders heave. And then he turns.
Yeah, that’s right, feel the heat, buddy.
“Cassie?” His voice is low and frayed.
We collide like magnets snapping together.
