The question now was did he push his hand a little further? Or did he hold? Sit back and let her come to him again?
He stood, grabbing his phone and his keys. He went directly to the kitchen, opening the freezer and grabbing a pint container of ice cream. Then he headed to the door.
"I guess I'm not sitting back," he muttered to himself as he started walking toward Esplanade.
CHAPTER 10
Jo was in the bathroom washing her face when she heard the rap on her door. She patted her face dry, tossing the facecloth over the edge of the sink, then headed down the hall to the front door.
Who was it? It was times like this when she really wished she had one of those little peekholes in her door. Instead, she stood with her hand on the doorknob, waiting to see if the person was still there.
Another loud rap nearly made her hop out of her skin. She clapped a hand to her chest, then called, "Who is it?"
"The Good Humor man."
Jo frowned, even though she recognized the voice. She pulled open the door, the wood sticking on the uneven floorboards.
"Maksim?"
He leaned in the doorway, holding out a container of ice cream. "You better let me in. We're having a Chubby Hubby meltdown."
Jo stared at him, utterly confused both by his appearance at her place and by his words.
"Chubby Hubby?"
He wagged the ice cream at her, and she saw the name. "Ah. Well, we wouldn't want that."
She stood back to allow him in.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, following him as he strolled to the kitchen and put the ice cream into her freezer.
"I just thought you might still be nervous, and I wanted to make sure for myself that you are fine." He turned and smiled, his pale eyes roaming over her. "You look fine."
She blushed, realizing she was standing there in a tight black tank top sans a bra and baggy plaid pajama bottoms. Her face was newly scrubbed, and her hair was in a ponytail. She probably looked like a teenager ready for a slumber party.
A very vivid image of a slumber party with Maksim popped into her mind. None of it fit for teenage consumption.
Maksim's smile deepened as if he could read her mind. Again his gaze grazed down her body, and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. She didn't like this. She felt totally caught off guard. Unprepared for him. But instead of covering herself, she walked over to the cupboards and pulled down two bowls.
"We shouldn't let the ice cream go to waste. Since you took the time to bring it over." She kept her voice calm, but she didn't meet his gaze.
"I agree." He said, leaning on the kitchen counter, watching her bustle around, which did not help her feel in control. His eyes on her, nor her frantic bustling.
Plus she had the feeling he was imagining other ways of how to not let the ice cream go to waste. Or maybe she was just projecting that on him. She certainly had a few ideas of her own.
"Don't go there," she muttered softly to herself.
"Go where?"
Figures the man had good ears along with all the other good parts of him.
She shook her head. "Just talking to myself. I do that." She said the last part pointed like a warning—something he should be wary of.
He wasn't. "I do, too."
She nodded, busying herself with her search for her ice cream scoop, which she wasn't even sure if she'd unpacked yet. Or if she'd even brought it with her.
"Damn it," she muttered, bracing her hands on the counter, Maksim's sudden appearance and her own flustered reaction overwhelming her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly beside her, his large warm hand on her bare shoulder.
"I can't find my ice cream scoop," she blurted out, feeling ridiculously close to tears. Then she looked up at him, her vision slightly blurry with the threat of waterworks she was trying desperately to suppress. "I'm sorry."
Maksim's eyebrows drew together over his green eyes, confused and taken aback by her reaction. For which she couldn't blame him.
"That's okay. You can just use a spoon."
His solution was so simple and so sincerely said, that Jo laughed, even as stupid tears rolled down her cheeks.
Before she could say anything, explain her utterly crazy behavior, Maksim scooped her up in his arms, hesitating only for a second as he got his bearings and located the living room.
He headed to the couch, and she expected him to set her down among the overstuffed cushions. Instead he sat down with her cradled on his lap.
The action was so kind, so caring, and Jo couldn't seem to stop herself. She broke down, sobbing against his chest, while his strong arms held her.
Helpless. Yet another feeling that, being a demon, Maksim was not familiar with. Okay, he did feel helpless about his sister—and her disappearance. But not helpless like this.
He stared down at Jo as she pressed her face against his chest and cried like her heart was breaking. And he felt very helpless—and overwhelmed.
He tightened his arms around her, each racking shake of her slight body pulling painfully at something in his chest.
"Shh," he whispered. "Shh, it's okay."
Her fingers curled in the front of his shirt, holding on to him as if she'd come apart if she didn't cling to him. He held her fast, mumbling that everything would be fine over and over, hoping she was okay.
Finally her crying subsided to small hiccups, but still she didn't lift her head.
"Jo?" he asked softly, "are you okay?"
"Not really. But I'm trying."
He was silent, not sure what to say. Finally he said, "A spoon really will work just as well."
Jo began to shake again, and he closed his eyes, silently castigating himself for bringing the ice cream scoop up again. Clearly it was upsetting for whatever reason. Then Jo raised her head, and he saw she was laughing.
He blinked, thoroughly bewildered.
"I'm sorry," she said amid her giggles. "A spoon will absolutely work fine. I guess it was just the last straw of a very stressful day."
Maksim considered that. "And did crying help?"
Jo nodded. "A lot. But it didn't help your shirt much." She brushed at the large wet patch she'd created. Maksim caught her hand, holding her fingers.
"Since meeting you, I'm getting pretty used to being covered in bodily excretions."
Jo made a disgusted noise, then laughed again. "Now that's hot."
"Definitely," Maksim agreed, looking down at her, finding her wide smile breathtakingly beautiful. Without further thought, his lips captured that lovely mouth, needing to feel it against his. To taste her. To feel her breath as his own.
Jo froze as Maksim kissed her, startled by the suddenness of it. Then his lips moved against hers, velvet heat slow and sensual, and she melted into him. He nudged her lips apart, his tongue brushing fleetingly, taking small tastes of her. She sampled him back, savoring heat and the sweet tang of his breath.
His hands, broad and strong, splayed across her back, keeping her tucked tightly to him. Her own fingers slid up his torso, caressing the hard muscles of his chest and shoulder, then over the column of his neck to the sharp cut of his jawline.
She moaned as one of his hands left her back and came up to cup the back of her head, angling her so he could deepen the kiss even further. She allowed it, loving the feel of him hard against her, yet his lips silky smooth, his tongue hot.
She loved him taking control.
Control. The word flashed in her mind, then dissolved like ice-cold water in her veins. The hand that had been caressing the cut of his jawline, the hair at his temples, stopped. Then moved back to his chest, as she levered herself away from him. She half-scrambled, half-fell onto the sofa away from him.
"I'm—I'm sorry. I–I shouldn't have…" She was breathless and her words came out in a dazed jumble. "I—that was, umm, I'm sorry."