Demon Can’t Help It (17 page)

M
aksim 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.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what had you so upset?” he said, his voice soft, as if he didn’t really want to address the issue but thought he should.

She shook her head, her fingers slipping under his shirt again. His eyes drifted close as she caressed his smooth skin and hard muscles. His dark lashes looked sinfully long against his cheeks, every inch of him, even those lashes exuding sex appeal.

Maksim opened his eyes, his lids heavy with desire, but serious, too.

“Have you considered that you are doing this with me, because you are trying to avoid what happened to you tonight? To forget what you saw?”

Her fingers paused on his skin. “Yes.”

Maksim stared at her for a moment as if he hadn’t expected her to admit her strategy so readily. Then a slow, sexy smile spread across his beautifully sculpted lips.

“I’m good with that.”

Jo smiled too. “Good.”

Maksim slid back over Jo, wondering what the hell had motivated him to ask her such things. To give her a way out. To be the voice of reason.

Now that was something he tried to avoid.

He kissed her, tasting her instant response, those amazing fingers of hers stroking over his skin, around his sides, up his back. Thankfully, she wasn’t looking for reason. Despite his own stupidity in offering it.

This time he broke away only long enough to strip his shirt off over his head. Jo made a noise of appreciation, the low sound as seductive as her fingers on his skin. Then her fingers moved to the button of his jeans, and he changed his mind. Nothing, absolutely nothing beat the feeling of those fingers.

She slipped the button open, then the zipper. Her fingers then disappeared inside, cupping him.

“You have a very nice penis,” she said with a satisfied little smile, gently squeezing him. His cock pulsed in response through his shorts.

“He likes you, too.”

She laughed. “I can tell.”

She levered herself up to kiss him, her mouth soft and sweet clinging to his, showing him what she wanted from him, by the movement of her lips, of her body brushing against him. He caught her head between his hands, taking control of the kiss.

But Jo being Jo, she wasn’t about to let him have all of the power. She slipped an arm around his neck and pulled him down onto her, her hand still holding his painfully hard erection. They kissed, their passion building each caress of their lips, their hands fanning their need. A rising fire burning inside both of them.

His hands left her hair, sliding down over her shoulders, tugging down the strap of her camisole top, exposing one breast. His lips latched onto the swollen nipple, tugging deeply on the rosy tautness. She gasped, her hips grinding up against him.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?”

“Ohh, yeah.”

He abraded the peaked tip again between his teeth, being rewarded by another sharp gasp. So he suckled her gently, soothing the sensitive flesh with his tongue.

But that didn’t seem to calm her. Instead, she captured his head and pulled his mouth back up to her.

“That makes me crazy,” she muttered roughly against his lips. “They are so sensitive.”

Maksim smiled against her mouth. Something about the way she said that made him think that her breasts normally weren’t so tender, so responsive. Pride expanded his chest at the idea that she was reacting more to him than she had others in the past.

He pulled back, his fingers brushing her distended nipple, twirling it between his fingers, watching her closely as he did so. Her brown hair spilled around her on the cream-colored sheets. Then her fingers still in his jeans worked up and down the responsive underside of his cock.

Even through his jockey shorts, her touch was almost too much. She drove him wild. How something so tame, given the types of things he’d done in the past with creatures who were far from tame, could almost push him to ejaculation was mind-boggling.

But there was something about this mortal. This slender, stunningly lovely mortal with dark, dark eyes and a guarded heart.

His fingers paused on her breast. Where were these thoughts coming from? He had her lying under him, and he was thinking about her heart. He should be thinking about how tight she would feel around him. How good he’d feel buried deep inside her. How loud he could make her cry out as he plunged into her over and over. How he could get through that guard with every orgasm.

He groaned, frustrated with his own desperate, needy thoughts. And aroused all the same.

Pulling away from her, he stood and tugged his shirt off, then his pants, impatience in his movements. Impatience with himself and with his uncontrollable desire for this woman.

She watched him with a small, smug smile on her lips. She stretched as he watched, her movement sinuous, sensual. Then she wriggled her hips, working down her pajama bottoms, baring herself from the waist down, her legs long and perfectly shaped, the tiny triangle of hair equally perfect. Her hands moved to her top, easing it up slowly, arching her back to toss the small garment aside. Her firm breasts glowed creamy white in the mellow lamplight.

She stretched again, the movement seductive, enticing like a siren basking in the sand, luring men to her.

“Vixen,” he said, his voice filled with both frustration and amusement: Frustration that he couldn’t seem to check his response to her and amused because she knew it, and she loved it.

“You do realize you are about to get so fucked.”

She laughed at his coarse statement.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she said with another self-satisfied grin.

His muscles tensed, his skin prickled with painful awareness; he groaned, this time with surrender.

Did he care how easily she controlled him?

He crawled back over Jo’s delectably stretched-out body. She moaned as his weight came down on her. Her arms pulled her tighter to him. Her legs parted to cradle him, the moist heat there making his whole body pulse with unbridled desire,

Oh, hell no, he didn’t.

J
o gasped as his weight pressed her down into the mattress. She loved the way he felt—all hard muscles, all velvety skin. She loved the possessiveness of his kisses, the dominance of his touch.

She kissed him, her lips clinging fiercely to his. Then her hands, which had been stroking his back, came up to brace his shoulders, curling into the latent strength there. She pushed him over, crawling onto him, straddling him.

“You just lay still,” she told him.

He raised an eyebrow, but did as she asked. She grinned, even as intense passion surged through her. Passion made all the more sharply intense by being able to dominate this strong, powerful man.

She leaned down and lightly bit his nipple and he gasped, his body jerking under hers. She lapped it, soothing away an hint of pain.

A hand came up, cupping the back of her head, directing her to him. But she caught his wrist and pinned it back to the bed. Her other hand found his other wrist and pinioned it up over his head, the position bringing her breasts level with his face.

“Now, you behave,” she warned.

He lifted his head and captured her nipple in his mouth, drawing on her hard.

Pleasure shot through her, puddling between her thighs. Unable to control herself, she ground herself against him, his thick hard shaft slipping between her wet lips, rubbing right where she most needed to be touched.

Both of them groaned.

She straightened slightly, still restraining his arms above him. Watching him, she moved, sliding her hips back and forth like she was riding him in a slow, delicious canter.

His eyes closed and his breath escaped him in shallow shudders. She continued, her flesh growing slicker from their mutual arousal. Her own breath grew more harsh, more broken as her desire rose, taking her over.

A small sob escaped her lips as her head fell back, her orgasm right there, right on the edge of spilling over.

Then Maksim broke her hold, his hands gripping her hips. He lifted her and set her down on him, filling her wet vagina to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

A loud cry surrounded them, and Jo was only vaguely aware that it was her own voice. She was too overwhelmed, too encompassed in her own release. Nothing existed but Maksim’s strength filling her and her own pulsating bliss.

Gradually, reality came back to her and she realized she was draped over him, her body a puddle of sated release. His hands still held her hips, loosely now.

Finally, after her breath returned to some semblance of normalcy, she muttered, “You just couldn’t let me have control, could you?”

He chuckled, although she was glad to hear the sound was breathy.

“You had control,” he assured her. “My brain is mush.”

She smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. Then she stretched, savoring his sinew under her.

She raised her head, her eyes wide. “Well, your brain is all that’s mush.” She wiggled her hips. He was rock hard, still buried inside her.

She frowned. “You didn’t?”

He smiled at her, raising one of his dark brows. “Didn’t what?”

She sat up, widening her eyes.

He laughed. “Not yet. Believe me, I am not done with you.” He jerked his hips, moving inside her.

Instantly she could feel her body coming alive, anticipating what he had in mind for her now. As if reading her mind and more than happy to show her, the hands on her hips tightened and began to guide her on him, moving her in a slow, persuasive motion.

Jo braced her hands on Maksim’s chest, balancing herself as he moved inside her.

“You feel so damned good,” he muttered, his voice rough with hungry need.

She made a noise in response, clearly lost in the feeling of them joined. Flesh to flesh, a tight slick joining.

Her fingers curled into his chest, her blunt, tidy nails digging into his skin. He relished the bite of them, the feeling somewhere between pleasure and pain.

Then she used her leverage to steady herself, and gradually, and magnificently, she started to take a little control. It wasn’t until she’d changed the rhythm totally that he realized what she’d done. She simply felt too damned good.

First she moved a little faster, then shifted a little slower. For a moment, he tried to maintain his command, but then he gave over to her.

He moaned long and low, arcing his back, feeling ecstasy gripping his spine.

“How does that feel?” She rotated her hips slightly as she continued sliding up and down him.

He groaned, closing his eyes, doing nothing but feeling her. Feeling himself inside her.

“Damn, you feel good.”

She smiled, pivoting her hips more. He groaned again. But he couldn’t let her keep the pace. He was too close. Too willing to submit to her.

“Turn around?” he said, his voice a harsh demand.

“What?” She blinked at him, her eyes hazed with lust-muddled confusion.

“Turn around. On your knees.”

He half-expected her to deny him. But she slid off him, cool air a jarring, not particularly pleasant shock to his wet, glistening cock.

Don’t worry, buddy. You’ll be home again
. There was no way he was staying out of this woman a moment longer than necessary.

He turned to her, finding her on the mattress, her perfect, wonderfully rounded ass in the air, the pink lips of her sex glittery, damp, and luscious in the low lamplight.

He touched her, cupping her cheek, running his thumb down the crevice of her derriere to those hot wet lips. He brushed over them, letting her juice soak his finger. Then he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her, his tongue entering the tight heat his cock had just left.

She cried out, her hips bucking. And he moaned. Then his tongue flicked out of her, sliding down to find her pebbled clitoris.

The small nub of flesh pulsed at his touch. He licked her, savoring each pulsating, mindless little whimper she made into her mattress.

“Jo, you taste so good.”

She made another unthinking moan, her only response to indicate that she heard. Or that she might have heard.

He returned his mouth to her, licking, swirling, sucking until she cried out, that noise telling him exactly what had happened.

Then as she lay, her face against the covers, her sweet ass still raised in the air, he took her hips in his hands, positioned himself and returned his cock to the place it most wanted to be.

To his utter shock, he thrust only a half-dozen times, and she shouted out again, the walls of her vagina squeezing him in violent convulsion. He made it two more pumps, then roared out his own release.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her against him, his body curling around hers.

Neither of them spoke, the room echoing with their ragged breaths. Finally, when her breathing had evened out and he thought she must have fallen asleep, she roused herself enough to glance over her shoulder at him.

She smiled, her expression sleepy and sweet.

“Well,” she said, then paused as a cute little yawn escaped her, “I guess we both got so fucked.”

For a moment, Maksim didn’t react. Then a burst of laughter shook his chest and filled the room. He hugged her against him, feeling…

Happy, content, that all was right with the world.

He tried to muster concern that none of his inherent disillusionment seemed to be present, but the disquiet didn’t come.

He squeezed her and kissed the top of her head, feeling fine with his sense of well-being. He could worry about being a bitter, cynical demon tomorrow.

Unfortunately tomorrow came all too soon.

Maksim stretched, liking the cool, soft feeling of the bedding around him. He liked the smell, too, a scent of warmth and flowers like heated roses with vanilla. Jo’s scent.

He rolled over and opened his eyes, expecting to find Jo sound asleep beside him. But he was greeted by tossed-aside blankets and the impression in the pillow where Jo had been.

Sitting up, he scanned the room, then listened once he discovered he was truly alone. He could hear her in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, the opening and closing of the fridge. The faint sound of music.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he stood, then stretched, his muscles feeling good and well-used. Then without bothering with clothes, he padded to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said to Jo’s back as he entered. She turned, nearly sloshing her coffee as she took in his naked state. Her eyes skimmed quickly over him, then stayed on his face.

“Good morning.” Her voice was cool and distant. “Coffee?”

He frowned. “Sure.”

She turned back to the counter as if she’d turn to stone if she looked at his nudeness a moment longer. She reached up into her cupboard for a mug, the mug in question clattering against wood and other ceramics in her hurry to retrieve it. Finally, she snagged it.

“Milk? Sugar?” she asked, not looking at him.

“Both.”

She nodded, still not looking at him. She busied herself with preparing it. The clack of the spoon on the edge of the cup was deafeningly loud as she stirred. Her attention was conspicuously focused on her work.

Finally when there was truly nothing more she could do with the damned coffee to keep her focus off him, she turned.

Still barely looking in his direction, she placed the mug on her café-style kitchen table.

“There you go.”

He stepped forward, bringing himself just inches from her, and took a sip.

“Perfect.”

She nodded, her gaze darting past him toward the hallway. Toward escape.

It almost seemed like a dream now. Last night. The fear of that very same hallway. The security she found in his presence. The pleasure.

“Okay,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her dark eyes. “I’m going to go get ready for work.”

She brushed past him.

And just like that well-being disappeared. And he instantly remembered why he’d avoided that particular feeling. It only made the bitterness all the more intense and unbearable in its wake.

Jo rushed into her room, closing the door behind her as if a panel of wood could keep him out. Or protect her from her own thoughts.

God, last night had been wonderful. Truly wonderful.

And that scared her to death. Maybe more than her crazy delusions about her sister. But then, wasn’t this just another crazy delusion of a different kind?

She stood in the middle of her bedroom, not really seeing anything, not really sure what she was doing. She just knew when she woke up this morning she’d been ridiculously pleased that Maksim was still there, one arm flung over his head, the other flung possessively over her.

She had stayed beside him, even as she told herself she should get up, she should put space between herself and her feelings for him. But she hadn’t left him right away. Instead she’d touched his hair, his arm, the soft skin of his lips. And she’d let herself imagine them having a future.

She drifted in a fantasy of romance and love and a home with this man. A family.

And that was what pushed her out of bed. That she couldn’t expect that kind of feeling from Maksim. She’d been with Jackson for months, and she hadn’t gotten that response from him. He’d denied her all of that. He’d cheated, he’d lied, and in the end left her to handle all the mess herself. He hadn’t wanted her, or what she was offering.

She wrapped her arms around her midriff and fought back tears. He hadn’t wanted her and a family, and why would Maksim?

She kept her arms wrapped tightly around her as she wandered to the bed, trying to ignore the memories the rumpled bedding brought back to her.

She couldn’t let herself feel anything. She couldn’t. And God knew she was good at that particular defense mechanism. Control and denial. That was what kept her going, kept her safe.

So she would tell herself she wasn’t feeling anything about Maksim. She’d get dressed for work, she would go to work, and she would emerge back into what made sense to her. And she’d get through this.

She tightened her arms around her stomach.

She would get through it all.

By the time Maksim knocked on her door, Jo was fully dressed in a no-nonsense blue suit, her hair up in a tight, severe bun, her glasses in place. All traces of the shaken, unsure woman were gone.

Of course, once she opened the door, she was confronted again with the fact that he’d been sitting in her kitchen all this time, naked. But she managed to keep her eyes averted as she said, “Sorry. I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

She slipped past him, making sure not even her sleeve brushed against him. Maksim didn’t move into the room, nor did he speak.

As she hurried away, she could feel his eyes burning into the center of her back all the way down the hallway. But she refused to look back, or to let herself be shaken.

Falling for Maksim Kostova was destined to be doomed.