Page 6 of Rub

My hips begin to sway, and he smiles, eyes glowing.

“Wait!” I stagger back a step, bumping into someone behind me, and it hits me I can feel their skin on mine. I look down at myself and, oh my fucking God, what am I wearing?

I snap a glare up at him. “Where are my clothes?”

Confusion flickers over his so-goddamn-gorgeous face. “On your body.”

I look down at the black leather micromini skirt and red satin cropped halter top that barely covers my boobs. “Notmyclothes, they’re not.”

“You don’t like?” There’s no censure or disappointment in his voice, just regret. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

And before I can respond, he lifts his hand and clicks his fingers again.

three

The afternoon sunwarms my face as I peer up at the sweeping blue sky. A gentle breeze plays with my hair as a distant kookaburra laughs somewhere from one of the towering gumtrees hugging the…the…

Frowning, I take in our surroundings. My heart thumps faster at the sight of the white sails of the Opera House and the arching bridge rising up beside the calm stretch of water before me. “So we’re now in a park on Sydney Harbour now?”

I’m also wearing the same jeans and shirt I started the day in. Weirdly, a tiny part of me misses the skirt and top. I’d never worn anything like it before, had never revealed so much?—

“Do you like?”

A deep, smooth voice—hisdeep, smooth voice—sends a shiver of something carnal down my spine and between my thighs. Preparing myself for who-knows-what, I look at him. He’s standing beside me, still as tall, still as gorgeous, still as impossible. The faded jeans and black T-shirt have been replaced with artfully torn jeans and a white T-shirt. The Docs still cover his feet. What is he, a size fourteen? At least.

Y’know what they say, Al. Big feet, big?—

“I created it for you,” he continues. “I sensed you didn’t like crowds.”

Idon’tlike crowds. They make me— Wait. What?

“You created it for me?” I frown harder. “This isn’t a real park?”

“I created it for you,” he repeats with a smile, dimple flashing. Liquid heat ribbons through me. “And foryou, master, it is very much real.”

“Don’t call me master.” I shake my head, taking in the serene park and million-dollar view. A gentle breeze plays with my hair. A magpie wanders passed our feet, warbling up at us.

Hallucinating. I have to be hallucinating. There’s no other explanation.

“Call me Al. Or Aliana.”

He bows, a slow, single dip at the hips, his storm-cloud eyes holding mine. “Al.”

“Whatareyou?” A shiver ripples through me. I’m not scared. I’m…something.Turned on?

Perfect white teeth join the dimple in flashing at me. “A djinn.”

“A djinn. Djinn? Not a genie?”

He shrugs. “Potato potarto.”

A laugh bubbles from me, and he smiles wider. “I like this sound,” he says. “It makes my heart happy. It will be my mission while I am yours to make you laugh more.”

While I am yours…

“So you’re a djinn?—”

“Yourdjinn,” he corrects, and that same shiver ripples through me.

---