The Cowboy Genie's Wife: A Paranormal Romance (The Dirty Djinn Series) by Lyn Brittan

Author:Lyn Brittan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: alpha male, Interracial Romance, cowboy romance, cowboy, interracial paranormal romance, paranormal romance, witch, Western, Western Romance, genie, multicultural romance, genie romance, Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Gryy Brown Press
Published: 2014-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

She woke up wrapped in silks that smelled of old wood and desert markets. And love. Lots of it. Served with a heaping dollop of masculine self-congratulating smugness.

She’d love to wipe the smirk off Fazil’s face as he lay there with his hands laced behind his head. He cracked his neck and winked. “Last night was good.”

“You were all right.”

“All right?” The idiot spent the next thirty seconds screaming his own name in an annoyingly high feminine trill.

“I don’t sound like that.” The jerk-face switched to a series of “unghhhhhs” and “get it, babys” that had her flinging pillows at him. “I can’t stand you.”

“Liar. You never hated me. Remember? Your words.”

“You’re still a pompous jack-hole who thinks he’s God’s gift to women and—”

“Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel first thing in the morning after we’ve reconnected. Go on.”

She placed two fingers on his lips. Thankfully, he shut up. He was so much better like this. Quiet. Smiling. Happy. He had a million reasons to kick her out on her butt, but he’d offered to help, and every bit of her knew that he would. But could they ever go back to the way they were before?

No.

Even his powers couldn’t reverse time. And, well, maybe that was a good thing. In their time apart, she’d learned self-sufficiency, how to handle money, and the soul-fulfilling warmth that came from hard work. With him, she’d been waited on hand and foot. Without him, life hadn’t been easy, but it’d been rewarding in so many other ways.

“What are you thinking about?”

“All this hard work you do on your farm ... ranch ... whatever ... it’s been good for you, hasn’t it?”

“Guess so. I like it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll magic a busted fence fixed if there’s a wish in the air for it, but I’m content to do it the long way too. Work kept me busy, and as long as I wasn’t busy, I wasn’t being miserable over you.”

“So it’s back to being my fault again?”

He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned. “I only mean that ... babe, my left ass cheek is sitting in a puddle of your juice from our sex. I’m hard and my right nut is twitching. Can we not ruin this morning?”

And then he was there, warm and inside her. He hadn’t asked permission, but he didn’t need to, not anymore. She couldn’t be harmed in this magical place. The lamp had accepted her as its ... her ... mistress long ago. Only two people could ever enter these safe and hallowed walls.

His eyes never left hers. She couldn’t say the same. With each stroke, her lids fluttered shut, and she struggled to maintain some grasp on reality. He hadn’t grown larger, just colder, perhaps. Rougher, from the years of her absence. Sex with her husband had been sweet and fun and sometimes intense.

This was hard.

Dirty.

Jagged.

This wasn’t sex full of the memories of last week or a saccharine segue from a romantic comedy movie night.

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