This craving he felt for her should have been easing by now. Their magicks were finding a balance. The accompanying erotic response should've been finding equilibrium also, like amounts of water leveling off. Hell, he'd been counting on his lust for her fading away before it drove them both insane. Yet, against all reason and magickal law, it seemed to be becoming even more intense.

How much of this torture were they supposed to take?

He placed his hands on her hips, and she went very still. Dragging her back against him, he fit her sweetly curved ass against his groin—and stopped to think about baseball again for a moment. Then he eased his hands up her stomach and placed his fingertips between her breasts, careful not to actually touch them.

Mira's breathing grew deep and heavy. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest under his fingertips. Was she excited right now? Did she want him as much he wanted her? Was she hot and damp between her lovely thighs? He wanted to find out.

"Close your eyes," he murmured into her ear. "Concentrate on drawing out a wisp of magick just the way you've been practicing, only take a little more this time. Draw about twice as much as you normally acquire, but no more than that.”

"Got it," she said in a breathless voice.

"Already?”

"Been practicing.”

"Okay. Good. Imagine that I'm an attacker. Imagine that I'm behind you with an intent to do you harm.”

"You mean imagine that I don't want you touching me?" she murmured.

Jack took a moment to respond, trying to figure out what that comment meant. Did it mean it was hard to imagine ... or easy? "Yes. Then direct it toward me with the desire to blow me backward.”

Silence. Nothing.

"Mira?”

"Don't rush me. I'm working up to it.”

"Okay. Don't worry about hurting—”

A gust of wind ripped him away from Mira. He sailed backward and landed on his back. His breath whooshed out of him and he slid five feet on the polished floor before coming to a stop. Jack lay sprawled, staring up at Mira in surprise.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to push you that hard." She ran to him and offered a hand to help him up.

He regarded it warily for half a second, then took it and got to his feet. He winced and touched his aching lower back. "Ouch.”

"I'm so, so sorry.”

He took her face between his hands and forced her to look up at him. "Stop saying that. You did what I asked you do. You might be more of a fighter than you think.”

She gave him a wicked smile. "So do we need to practice that another one hundred and fifty times then?”