Without further thought, she pressed her lips to his.
CHAPTER 18
Maksim didn't know what was going on, but there was no way in hell he was going to stop Jo's kiss. Instead, he pulled her closer, taking control of her frantic embrace. Gradually, her movements calmed under his, not growing any less passionate, just less frenzied, less desperate.
Her arms curled around his neck, clinging to him as if afraid he would disappear, but her lips moved more slowly, more sensually under his. She groaned, leaning into him. He pulled her up against his chest, lifting her bodily against him.
Without breaking their kiss, he picked her up completely, carrying her inside her apartment, kicking the door closed with his foot.
For a moment, they remained in the kitchen, her cradled in his arms, their lips tasting, tongues tangling, desire rising.
He moaned as she gently nipped his bottom lip.
Thinking of only one thing, he headed in the direction of her bedroom. But before he even reached the hallway, she broke the kiss and strained against him. The panic he'd seen when she'd opened her door was back, completely blotting out any hint of desire.
"I don't want to go down there," she said, not looking at "there," just staring at him.
"Down where? To your bedroom?"
"Yes. Please stay here." Her arms tightened around his neck as if she thought that would stop him from moving.
And he let that be the case. He nodded and headed to the sofa, settling on the slipcovered cushions, keeping her on his lap.
"Okay, tell me what the hell is going on," he said.
Again, he thought she was going to avoid the question. But finally, after a bit of fidgeting and toying with the buttons of his shirt, she spoke.
"I saw something in the hallway."
He waited, allowing her to gather her words.
"I saw footprints."
He frowned. Now that wasn't what he'd expected her to say. Not that he'd been sure what she'd say. Maybe a mouse? A rat? A big spider? One of those large, unnervingly fast cockroaches?
"Footprints?"
She nodded, clearly not hearing his bewilderment as she shot a glance over her shoulder at the hallway. As if she expected these footprints to come—and do what?
"Jo, what kind of footprints are we talking about? Do you think someone broke in?"
She shook her head, again casting another quick, very nervous look at the door.
Maksim waited again, really starting to wonder if Jo was losing it. He didn't think she was the type to be this frightened without cause, but what the hell had her so scared of some supposed footprints on the floor?
"Show me," he said, and for a moment she didn't move on his lap. He half-expected her to say no, but then she did move, slowly dropping her bare feet to the floor.
He rose behind her, slipping his hand in hers and squeezing her fingers, fingers that felt like cold, stiff twigs against his palms.
Whatever she was telling him, one thing was clear, she was terrified. She stared at the hallway, and he squeezed her fingers again, giving her silent encouragement.
She took a hesitant step, then another, until she was standing at the mouth of the hallway. The pale yellow walls of her bedroom glowed warmly at the far end. Otherwise, the hallway was empty, quiet, harmless looking.
She stared at the floor. He did, too, seeing nothing but slightly uneven and worn hard wood. He looked at Jo, who frowned. She took another step, actually entering the hallway proper. Then she flipped on a light switch on her left.
The light blazed on from the middle of the hallway, brightly illuminating the off-white walls, wood floors, and shelves of books and pictures.
But he did not see anything that looked like footprints.
"There's nothing," she said, confirming his opinion. "They are gone."
Maksim didn't answer her, instead tugging at her hand, walking down the length of the hallway, examining the flooring, trying to see something. Because he knew she needed someone to confirm what had her so afraid.
"Are you sure you weren't just dreaming?" he finally asked once they'd reached her bedroom.
"Yes. I know I saw them."
He nodded, not trying to rationalize away her visions any further. He knew she didn't want to hear that. She had to come to terms with what she saw, or thought she saw, on her own.
She stared back down the hallway, then turned to collapse on her bed. Maksim followed her, sitting beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight, making her tip against him.
He put an arm around her, pulling her stiff body against his side.
They were both silent for a moment.
Finally he asked, "Who do you think left the footprints?"
Jo stopped staring off into space, lost in her own thoughts, her own memories—probably her own justifications—and gaped up at him.
"You believe me?"
He nodded. He couldn't very well tell her that he'd seen much stranger things in his existence, on a regular basis. Things that would make disappearing footprints look like an average everyday happening.
"So who do you think they belonged to?"
Jo wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. Maksim seemed to readily accept she'd seen what she'd seen. But she didn't know if she wanted that. Part of her wanted those prints to be there, because it would prove she wasn't losing her mind. But if they were there, then she was at risk of losing her mind anyway. Neither choice said good things for her mental health.
But as she stared at Maksim, who waited for her to answer, his pale green eyes holding no doubt, no judgment, all that mattered was that he was there, willing to accept whatever she told him.
Instead of speaking, she leaned up and kissed him again. Having him here, having him hold her and take her away from her thoughts, seemed far more important than her answer. At least at this moment.
And he responded to her kiss, just as easily, just as willingly, as he'd accepted what she'd seen. But this response was so much sweeter.
She shifted, turning to him, linking her arms around his neck. His arms came around her back and he pulled her down with him as he fell back onto her bed.
She followed readily, sliding more fully on top of him, her breasts pressed to his hard chest. Her legs tangling with his, her fingers slipping into his hair.
"Jo," he murmured against her lips, her name a sensual brush against her own mouth. A hot breath, a hungry plea. She moaned and captured his mouth, her tongue mingling with his tongue, a delicious, rough rasp.
Quickly the kiss grew frenzied, ravenous as desire grew between them, around them like a rising eddying whirlwind. Maksim's large hands caught her head, taking control of the kiss. Her fingers knotted in his hair, tugging, taking a measure of control back.
Then she found herself flipped, her body pinned between the softness of her bedding and delicious hardness of his body.
"I've thought about this all day," he told her, nipping the bare skin of her shoulder. Her collarbone. The side of her neck. She arched under him, loving each bite, each teasing pinch, the hard edge of his teeth against her fragile flesh.
"Me, too," she heard herself say, even though she knew she shouldn't admit something like that. More dangerous than the admission of a dead sister wandering around her apartment. More dangerous for her mental health. But it was out and she couldn't take it back. Just like she couldn't stop what was going to happen here in this bed.
With that realization, she tugged at his T-shirt, pulling it up, baring his muscular back, his amazing flat, hard abdomen.
Maksim rose up, his legs straddling hers, his hands stroking up and down her thighs. The strength of his fingers feeling deliciously strong and masculine even through the cotton of her pajamas.