Snogging time again!I have so many books and so many kisses it can be a bit overwhelming trying to pick one out for a Sunday but today I’m talking you back in time when Laura meets Rahul in Silver Screen Dream, the first book in the Djinn’s Amulet series.
When true love conquers all, what is a djinn to do?
Johnny is a djinn, and he has a hard life. His master, Rahul, is a massive Bollywood star who’s run off to England to avoid an arranged marriage, a marriage Johnny has to make happen. It’s his job.
Rahul further complicates matters by falling for a British Bollywood fan, Laura, whom he meets at a film premiere. How can Johnny get his master back to Mumbai to marry the woman to whom he is pledged and away from the English hussy who is steadily taking more and more of his attention?
Johnny will use revenge and jealousy, but how will he cope when true love is thrown into the mix?
I was dreaming, or at least I had magically had my deepest wish granted. He roamed his hands from my head to my waist then down over my buttocks. His groan echoed through my body as he squeezed, and I opened my mouth wider in shocked arousal. He took advantage and slipped his tongue inside to dance with mine. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I just clung on to his shoulders like a woman who was about to swoon.
It wasn’t until he slid his fingers up under my uniform top and started to pull at the fastening of my best bra that I remembered where we were.
“Not here,” I gasped as I dragged my lips from his. “Anyone could see, my boss could see.”
“Where can we go?” he asked and brushed his lips against my cheek. “Somewhere private.”
“I know.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards a locked door.
“We have to be careful,” I said as I slipped a key into the lock and twisted. “We could get into a lot of trouble in here.”
I closed the door after we’d entered the room. The low whirring of the drives hummed around us, and the bright light of the projector gave away our location.
“Stay away from anything expensive and don’t get in front of the projector as it’ll disrupt the film.”
“Yes, boss,” he chuckled and grappled me into his embrace. “Now, where were we?” “About here, I think.” I stroked my fingers along the side of his face. His skin was so
incredibly smooth and warm, and I longed to feel more of him. He slipped his hands back up inside my blouse.
If I’d spent any time thinking about what I was doing, I would have been a nervous wreck. The man in my arms was the man of my dreams, a Bollywood legend who had kissed some of the most beautiful girls in all India. The kissing didn’t worry me, I kiss well. What did niggle at the very back of my mind was would he like my body?
Beneath all the sheer and silky saris, the Bollywood women were perfect. Flat stomached, manicured and their skin glowed with good health and beauty care. My skin is soft and my body warm, but my stomach, well, it isn’t flat and neither are other parts of me. As long as he kept touching me, I determined I would keep such thoughts at bay.
Once I pressed my mouth to his again, all such thoughts just melted away. I came alive. My skin buzzed with excitement and joy flowed through my veins. I felt every rock and slide of his lips as they caressed my own, and each undulation had me craving more of him. He fumbled with my shirt buttons, and when he reached the collar and tie, he hesitated.
“Let me,” I whispered huskily. I didn’t mean to, but it was as if his kiss had taken my voice away with its intensity. I looked into his stark, shining eyes as I fumbled with the knot of my tie. I’d unfastened it a million times, but it was as if I were an alien trying to escape from unknown bonds. Finally I coaxed the loop up and around so the tie could be pulled free.
He took the scratchy, red material from my hand and tucked it in the pocket of his very expensive suit.
“Better,” he nodded and reached out to the single button at my collar that still held the material together. With a deft flick he popped it undone. “And better still.”
My cheeks burned as he turned his gaze to my revealed body. Gently he laid a hand on my shoulders and purposefully he pushed until I shuffled around so my back was towards him. He pulled my work shirt down from the centre of the collar. His knuckles brushed the back of my neck, and it sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
The material caressed my skin as it fell off my shoulders, and as he pushed my blouse off my body, the brush of his breath on the revealed flesh made me shake. He moved his hands up to my shoulders then swept them down my arms as he traced a pattern with his lips from my ear to the top of my spine. If he hadn’t been so close behind me, his body pressed into my back, I think I would have collapsed from the erotic tension that twanged in my mind and my heart. This was the part of the Bollywood story I would add in. On the screen I would see the dancing, the kissing and the caresses, but at night I would imagine the seduction, the removal of clothes and the pressure of naked flesh against flesh and the ecstasy of making love. I felt like I was acting out one of those dreams.”