He fisted his hands on his knees as he looked at the pale gold skin of her bare arms, imagining that her thighs were the same color. Her belly paler, her breasts, too.
A hungry growl rumbled low in his throat, but he caught himself and disguised it with a cough.
"Are you okay?"
"Just a little tickle," he said, coughing again for effect.
She nodded, then turned her attention to her computer. Her fingers, which were long and elegant with short nails and no-nonsense clear polish, moved easily over the keyboard, somehow looking graceful even in such an ordinary action. He imagined those same fingers gliding over his bare skin, touching him everywhere.
His erection, which had risen as soon as he'd stepped into the room and was surrounded by her scent, pulsed in his trousers.
"Just give me a minute here," Jo said as she frowned at the computer, clearly willing the archaic machinery to perform whatever action she wanted. Then she bit her bottom lip, and all his attention was on her white teeth sinking into the pink pillow.
He wanted to nip the soft, rosy flesh there. He wanted to bite her all over, to feel her skin under him, against him, around him.
"Maksim?"
He snapped his attention back to her, and away from his very vivid and very naughty fantasies of nibbling every inch of her body. He'd just reached her inner thigh, too—damn it. But he pushed the image away, which was not easy, and said, "I'm sorry. I missed that."
Jo shifted in her seat and crossed her legs as if she knew what direction his thoughts had been headed in. South—very deeply south.
She shifted again. "I've made up a calendar for the remainder of this month. What days were you thinking you'd like to come in?"
He offered her a small smile, intended to put her at ease, but then followed with, "What days do you want me?" the words said quietly, full of innuendo.
Pink tinged her cheeks, but her features remained unaffected. Maybe she wasn't going to make this easy. And maybe that's why she fascinated him so.
She turned her attention back to the monitor, but not before he noticed her pulling in a slow breath through her nose. That could be trying to get her reaction to him under control. Or annoyance. He wasn't sure which.
"Well, we could use your help any day. It's really whatever is best for you."
"Hmm," he pretended to consider. "Let me take a look."
Before she could respond, he rose and came around to her side of her desk. She pushed her chair to the side, offering him space, but the cramped quarters wouldn't allow her much distance. He watched as she tucked away a strand of hair, which had fallen free from the loose bun at the back of her head. Her hand returned to the desk, fidgeting with the edge of the keyboard.
He wished he knew what was making her so antsy. Oh, he knew it was his nearness, but was it because she didn't like it, or she liked it too much?
For a fraction of a second, he considered going into her head to find out. He hesitated, standing at the edge of her mind like a stranger outside a fenced property with a NO TRESPASSING sign posted. Even with the warning, he could scale the railings and jump inside. But just like with trespassing, there would be consequence. Not for himself, but for her.
For once he heeded the warning. Instead he did lean down, letting his shoulder bump hers. His cheek just inches from hers.
"Hmm." Again he pretended to consider the calendar. When in fact he was breathing in her scent, taking it deep in his nose and lungs like a powerful hit off an opium pipe. He held it there, then slowly blew out.
His breath touched her, ruffling that strand of hair that had fallen loose again. Her fingers fiddled more quickly with the edge of the keyboard. She lifted her other hand as if to touch the stray hair his breath just touched, but caught herself. She pushed up her glasses instead.
Maksim grinned. She wasn't oblivious to him. He leaned in closer, pointing to the screen.
"I could do every morning." He turned to her, his mouth now just inches away from hers. "If you would like."
For just the briefest moment—if he'd blinked he would have missed it—her gaze flicked to his lips. Then her eyes shot back to meet his. They were so dark brown they were almost black. Pink colored her cheeks further.
"What—what about your job at the bar? Aren't you going to be tired?" she managed to say, her voice sounding a little breathy.
"It will be fine. I don't require a lot of sleep. And being here is very satisfying to me." Or it will be. And very satisfying to her, too.
Again her eyes flashed to his lips, then she gave up looking at him altogether and turned her focus to the computer.
"Of—of course, the center would love the help," she said.
He smiled. Oh yeah, this would definitely lead to his satisfaction.
"Great. Then I will see you every morning." Every night, too.
Jo breathed in slowly through her nose. What had she just agreed to? Seeing this man every day? She pulled in another slow, even breath, telling herself to shake off her reaction to this man's proximity.
Sure, he was attractive. And he had—a presence. But she wasn't some teenage girl who would fall to pieces under a cute boy's attention. Not that cute was a strong enough word for what Maksim was. He was—unnerving. To say the least.
But she wasn't interested in him. She decided that quite definitely over the past two days. Of course that decision was made secured away behind her closed office door.
But either way, she should have more control than this.
Apparently should and could were two very different things. And she couldn't seem to stop her reaction to him. Her heart raced and her body tingled, both hot and cold in all the most inappropriate places.
"So every morning?" he said, his voice rumbling right next to her, firing up the heat inside her. "Does that work for you?"
She cleared her throat, struggling to calm her body.
"Yes—that's great," she managed to say, surprising even herself with the airiness of her tone. "I'll schedule you from eight a.m. to—" she glanced at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the computer screen, "noon?"
That was a good amount of time, getting Cherise through the rowdy mornings and lunch, and giving him the go-ahead to leave now. She needed him out of her space.
If her body wasn't going to go along with her mind, then avoidance was clearly her best strategy. And she'd done well with that tactic—although she'd told herself that wasn't what she was doing. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
"Noon is fine," he said, still not moving. Not even straightening away from the computer. And her.
"Good," she poised her fingers over the keys and began typing in his hours. "Then I think we are all settled. You can take off now if you like."
When he didn't move, she added, "You should go get some lunch. You must be hungry." She flashed him a quick smile without really looking at him.
This time he did stand, but he didn't move away. Instead he leaned against her desk, the old piece of furniture creaking under his tall, muscular weight.
"You must be hungry, too. Would you like to join me?"
She blinked, for a moment not comprehending his words, her mind too focused on the muscles of his thighs so near her. The flex of more muscles in his shoulders and arms as he crossed them over his chest.
She forced herself to look back at the computer screen.
"I–I don't think so," she said. "I have a lot to do here."
"But surely you allow yourself a half-hour lunch break."
She continued typing, fairly certain whatever she was writing was gibberish. "I brought a lunch with me, actually." Which was true. Not that she was hungry at the moment. She was too—edgy.