Page 11 of Rub

An unreadable glow pulses in his eyes for a few beats—his heartbeat? Does he have a heart? Then he smiles. Not a grin, not a smirk, but a smile, and oh crap, I could fall in love with that smile.

“You and me,” he echoes on a warm murmur.

Yeah, I could definitely fall in love…

No, no. Nope. Genie, remember? Djinn. And besides, you don’t do love or relationships. You don’t need them.

Squashing the unnerving warmth flowing through me, I cock an eyebrow at him. “Are you hungry?”

Dimples crease both his cheeks now. “It’s been a millennium.”

I blink. “Seriously?”

He brushes his fingertips over my pulse. “You have no idea how hungry I am right now, master.”

Are we still talking about food?

Mouth suddenly dry, I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip and hold out my hand to him. “Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation, he takes it. A jolt shoots through me, turning liquid and hot as it sinks into my very centre. “From the moment I saw you.”

Yeah, I could definitely fall in love. Not just with his smile, but with him.

What the fuck do I do now?

five

I’ll takehim to my apartment.

I mean, where else would I bake for him if not my shoebox-size one-bedroom unit positioned above a tattoo parlour? Japher’s? Not likely. But the issue trying to gnaw away at my common sense now is that taking him to my place means being alone with him. Completely alone. With how turned on by him that I am, being alone with him in a small area is probably a bad idea.

Probably?

As we begin walking, Kaami casts me a sideways look, eyes dark and unreadable, and asks where we were going.

“My place,” I reply, my heart thumping up into my throat.

“Your place,” he murmurs.

We walk for a few minutes, and I, for some unknown and thoroughly ridiculous reason, point out inane things. “That’s a magpie, a type of Australian bird,” I say. “And that’s a gum tree. And we call those birds bin chickens.”

Far too quickly, we’re inexplicably on the footpath outside the tattoo parlour. I frown and flick him a glance, noting theglow of his eyes and the hint of a dimple in his cheek. We climb the short flight of stairs to my place, and now, here we are inside.

Alone.

Suddenly nervous, I clear my throat and wave a hand at my tiny living area. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He scans the nihilistic space. When you move around like I do, you don’t collect stuff. There’s no room for nostalgia in my suitcase or van. He arches one eyebrow and clicks his fingers.

My living room is suddenly overflowing with more cushions than you’d find in Spotlight, vases of flowers so beautiful a florist would weep, and lots of squat, fat candles all burning perfectly still single flames.

“Wow.” I stare at it all. Under the second-hand IKEA coffee table I’d bought myself a week after Japher employed me is now a lush gold-tasselled purple rug, hiding the worn floorboards long overdue for a polish.

Kaami inspects his work with a happy nod, and directs a beaming smile my way. And narrows his eyes. “Not what you meant?”

I open my mouth, close it, and let out a low laugh. “Not at all, but I love your style.”

He grins. “As much as I love hearing you laugh.”

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