The Accidental Genie (24 page)

Wanda rose from her chair, her phone in hand. She gave Jeannie a quick hug before saying, “We won’t let that happen, Jeannie. I promise you, Victor won’t hurt anyone anymore. Not if I have to take him out myself. Just give me a little time.”

Time.

She had plenty of that if the djinn law book was right.

But could she really afford to just carelessly throw around the time other people might not be granted if Victor found them?

Tick-tock.

CHAPTER

12

“Hey,” Sloan called softly from her bathroom door, still sexy-damp from his shower. “You did it.”

A floating candle almost crashed to the ground when she heard Sloan’s voice. Jeannie nodded and smiled distractedly. She had, in fact, done two things, un-impregnated all those women and that poor man from the bridal shop, and made sure all those customers from the burger joint were out of hell for good. Yay, Nekaar and his skills. She’d also done this—made inanimate objects float. Not for long, but long enough to know it was possible. She could make things levitate all on her own. It wouldn’t save the world, but she was becoming more genie by the second.

Lou Rawls crooned in soft tones in the background, caressing her ears. Her mother had loved Lou Rawls. Jeannie played his CDs often, and when she did, it was like her mother was right here with her, singing in the kitchen as she made dinner.

The big book of genies was on the bed, open to the page where, among other menial genie abilities, levitating items was detailed. It was a small feat, but it made her proud to have simply read the directions and performed the task.

Sloan crossed the room and stuck his finger in the air with a smile, his eyes taking in the rather romantic setting she’d created. “Pretty great.”

Jeannie nodded, hoping that losing her focus wouldn’t make the rest of the twenty or so candles she’d levitated fall. “Well, I’m sure it’s not as amazeballs as shifting into a werewolf or scoring a super-blonde, but it’s a start.”

The room’s soft glow, glittering with star shapes illuminated from the floating decorative tin holders, twirled through the air with kaleidoscope grace. Practicing what Nekaar had taught her brought her a small measure of peace. It gave her mind something to do while Wanda and the others looked into how to find Victor, and she waited to find out what happened next. She’d told them everything Victor had threatened her with. Confessed every detail she could remember about their conversation.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

The shapes swirled above their heads, the flames flickering and dimming. “It’s pretty, right? Not terribly useful for anything more than atmosphere, but a start. I just followed the directions and relaxed like Nekaar said to.”

Sloan came to stand in front of her, a towel around his lean waist. She looked past him and right over his shoulder. The sight of his naked pecs and rippled abdomen made her mouth water and her legs quiver, but she would lose her concentration if she didn’t ignore him.

Plus, she wasn’t up for the torture of wondering what was going on under his towel. Since her admission the other night and tonight’s confession, her confidence had shifted without warning.

Something in her had broken loose—she felt freer than she had in almost as long as she’d been part of the program. In the moment, talking about what Victor had done, what she’d been too blind to see had hurt as though it had happened just yesterday. But now, a few hours later, she’d found she was sick with relief to have no more secrets. Good or bad, it was all out there.

“Jeannie?” his low voice grumbled.

“Sloan?”

“Wanna have sex with me?”

Two of the candles she was floating with sheer will alone, waffled and tilted. Bouncing her finger, she righted them, still looking past Sloan. “It’s the flannel pj’s, right? Super-duper hot. Knew you couldn’t resist. Who can resist pink with fluffy sheep?”

“It’s your everything,” he growled low, moving in closer to her, invading her space, sucking up her life force, making her want to throw herself at him and beg him to take her.

“Huh. Funny that. The other night my
everything
couldn’t make you budge.”

“Things change.”

“Horny changes everything.” She forgot about the candles and planted her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you celibate? I wouldn’t want you to break any vows you made with yourself because of me.”

“I was just waiting for the right woman to come along to break it with.”

“You do see with your special werewolf eyes, I’m neither blonde nor leggy, yes?”

“I see just fine with my special werewolf eyes, and I like what I see.”

Sloan stepped closer and snaked an arm out to wrap around her waist, hauling her up tight to him. The rigid line of his shaft pressed to the space between her thighs, making her fight a gasp. “I asked a question.”

Her arms dangled at her sides noncommittally despite her pounding heart and her racing pulse. She was afraid this was some kind of weird test she’d fail. “What changed your mind? Was it my pathetic tale of woe? Or did all the subterfuge and 007 stuff make you wild with desire? Men love spy stuff.”

Sloan put his hand to the back of her head and drove his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back. “No more jokes,” he ordered, gruffly.

Her eyebrow rose. “Totally not joking here. This was sudden and unexpected and, I think, after the not-so-subtle interrogation I got the other night from you, I deserve an answer.”

Sloan’s eyes penetrated hers, forcing her to connect gazes with him. “Because I know that tonight changed everything for you. You don’t have to hide anymore. Hiding from Victor, keeping all those secrets kept you from investing in a relationship. You were afraid it would be taken away. It’s easier not to take a chance. But no one’s taking me anywhere. I know that. You know that, too. I also know you’re ready. I can smell it. Now I want to taste it.”

Her pulse pounded. She wanted him so much it hurt.

He lowered his mouth to hers until their lips were only inches apart. “Are you in or not?”

Jeannie’s breath rasped. Was she in? Was all that new confidence she’d been thinking about just moments ago real or imagined?

The press of Sloan’s hard chest, huffing in and out, mirroring her breaths, was maddening and delicious and frightening all at once. She wanted. God, she wanted.

It was all there for the taking if she just reached out.

In that brief moment, when indecision warred with need, her need won. Good, bad, or indifferent, she was ready to recognize that she was a healthy woman with healthy desires and Sloan was willing to look beyond her scars, and his love of blondes, and fulfill them.

And that was right and good. Wanting to make love with an attractive man was healthy.

“I’m in,” she whispered, husky and breathy.

“Where’s Mat?” he demanded, running his hands along the curve of her hips.

“In the living room with the twins.”

And those were the last words either of them spoke before he was pulling her tighter to him, dragging his hands over her length, teasing her with his touch.

His mouth descended on hers, gentle at first until she wound her arms around his neck and demanded more. Flashes of white light flitted behind her eyelids when his tongue rasped over hers, tasting, touching, driving into her mouth.

Sloan’s muscled limbs flexed and tensed when he scooped her up and carried her to the bed.

She kept her eyes closed tight when her back pressed into the mattress, afraid if she opened them and saw Sloan assessing her, she’d see distaste in his eyes and this magical moment would be ruined forever.

But Sloan’s voice, thick and grumbling, demanded she open them. “Look at me, Jeannie. I want to know you know who I am.”

A deep breath later, and she popped her eyes open. Sloan sat above her, gloriously hard and bronzed, a veritable Rodin sculpture of near perfection. His skin was still damp from his shower, small beads of water still clinging to the hair beneath his belly button. His chest was smooth and hard, his pecs developed but not overly so.

When he rose and let the towel slip from his waist, Jeannie shivered, and it wasn’t due to anything other than lust. His cock was thick, jutting forward in clear desire, and it made her almost gasp a sharp intake of breath.

Her hands clenched at her sides, tightening until she was clinging to the sheets. Her eyes followed him when he sat at the edge of the bed, his breathing rapid and harsh.

When his lean fingers reached for the buttons on her pajama top, she stopped him, catching the look of hesitation that flashed in his blue eyes. “I’ll do it,” she whispered.

She needed to be the one to reveal the scars on her chest. They weren’t pretty, though they had healed well. Her fingers trembled as she freed button after button, then let her pajama top fall open. She pointed to the cluster of tiny lines, white and rigid. “These are from the glass that exploded and sprayed us.”

Sloan’s hiss made her heart stop, but he hadn’t hissed due to distaste. Instead, he leaned forward and traced, with light fingers, the lines that kept her from wearing a neckline lower than her collarbone. He explored them, smoothed them away.

“The doctors said I could have another plastic surgery to minimize them even more, but I was just so tired by then. Maybe someday—”

He pressed his fingers to her lips, his eyes searching hers, demanding she see him. “
I don’t care, Jeannie.
I don’t care about them. I only care that they caused pain.”

A tear slipped from her eye, falling into the pillow beneath her head, and then Sloan was replacing his fingers with his lips, nipping at her mouth, tasting it.

The hot flesh of his skin pressed to her bare torso made her arch upward, seeking closer contact, melding to him until they were one endless loop of entwined limbs.

When his lips traveled from hers and moved along the column of her neck, grazing her scars, her heart stood still. They were scorching hot, gliding over her skin, leaving her needy. As his tongue tasted her nipple for the first time, she lifted off the bed, her hips rising. Her hands tugged at him, encouraging him to cover her body with his delicious weight—to press her so far into the mattress there’d be no beginning or end to their union.

When his cock brushed along the fabric of her pajama bottoms, Jeannie tensed, but Sloan licked her nipple with a long swipe, savoring the bud with a hum of appreciation, making her forget everything else.

Her hands went to his hair, burying them in the silky strands as he drew her nipple in and out of his hot, wet mouth. Her heart clamored as Sloan’s fingers skimmed the top of her pajama bottoms, slipping over her flesh, teasing it until she moaned with need.

Jeannie’s hands roamed at will, too, slipping over his broad back, tracing each set of muscles, relishing the feel of a man’s skin beneath her fingertips. She found it was natural to wrap her thigh around his waist, encouraging him to grind against her.

His moan of pleasure slipped into the room, echoing in her ears, leaving her squirming beneath him. Sloan’s lips slipped away from her breast. Moving over her ribs in slow increments, he consumed her flesh with wet kisses, trailing a path to the top of her pajama bottoms.

Jeannie’s muscles tightened, tensing when Sloan’s hot breath caressed her lower abdomen. She fought not to cry out as he moved the fabric lower, hooking his thumbs under the waistband and dragging the material down along her hips with an agonizingly slow rasp. He pushed the bottoms to her ankles and shoved them over her feet.

White-hot heat flushed her veins and her pulse raced when Sloan leaned forward and spread the lips of her sex. The moment stood still for her. Sloan gazing upon the most intimate part of her body made her shiver with delight. It was carnal and decadent, naughty and exciting, all rolled into one big package. The anticipation made her chest heave and her fingers clench her sheets into balls of fabric.

Jeannie’s eyes flitted open for a brief moment to find Sloan held himself suspended over her, his nostrils flaring.

His eyes, deeply blue and darkened with something feral, connected with hers for mere seconds as though he were asking her a question.

And then Jeannie understood. She let her own eyes break contact and slide closed as she lifted her hips.

Sloan’s growl was husky and thick in her ears. His hair brushed her thighs just before he dipped his head low and took a long swipe of her clit, lashing out at it with his tongue and circling the tight bud.

Jeannie fought a scream, the pleasure was so intense; she reached a hand out to clutch locks of his hair, tugging at them as he explored her needy flesh. She ached with want. Every nerve ending in her body screamed for more.

When he slid his finger into her, easing into her tight passage, she jolted. A hoarse cry stuck in her throat. She clenched her eyes tight as he stroked her with his finger, driving it into her as he licked the swollen bud of flesh. Lights flashed behind her eyelids, streaking colors of brilliance, making her head thrash against the pillow with the need for release.

As waves of sweet heat rose and fell, Jeannie fell further into the abyss, allowing herself to do nothing more than feel the stroke of Sloan’s slick tongue and the drive of his finger within her.

Her release was so swift it took her by surprise. There was no warning, no subtle shift in pressure. Instead, it slammed into her, assaulting her with its intensity. She bolted upward to an almost half-sitting position and grasped Sloan’s hair, biting her lip to keep from crying out. Her orgasm tore through her, clawing its way to her very depths, leaving a trail of white-hot residue in its wake.

Falling back on the bed, she heard the harsh intake of her breaths, short and choppy. Sloan slid up over her length, letting his hands roam across her skin, wiping away the beads of sweat that had gathered between her breasts with his kisses.

Jeannie clung to him, pressing her face into his neck when he spread her thighs and positioned himself between them. His cock, rigid and warm, brushed her clit enticingly, creating just enough friction to make her hot with need all over again.

He bracketed her face. “Look at me, Jeannie,” he demanded as his chest drove against her with harsh intakes of breath.

Her eyes popped open to find him staring down at her. She searched his blue gaze, waiting.

Poised at her entry, Sloan didn’t say another word. Instead, he hiked her thigh up over his hip and slipped into her, stretching her, filling her with his width until her breath left her lungs. He moved with ease, inching into her, using the slick wetness of her passage to guide him.