Chapter 11 #2
“Is it still here?” He went to a window, wrenched open the drapes, and glanced out as if he’d be able to catch a demon mid-skulk. The sun shone brightly on the concrete. Birds flitted from one feeder-filled balcony to another. All appeared calm and idyllic.
Pippa came over to him. “It was only here briefly.” She tugged the drapes out of his hand and fluttered them shut with a light laugh. “See? Told you. No need to worry.”
“It’s—” Maxim dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled hard through his nose.
“I know I accidentally barged into your life. I know you probably still don’t want me to be involved, but I am now, and something like this”—he gestured in the direction he assumed her balcony existed—“is the sort of important knowledge you share with a person who’s slept on your couch and knows about demons and your .
. . your sorcery!” His tirade ended as an alarmed, shrill whisper.
Pippa set her hands on her hips. “What did you expect me to do? Shake you awake, tell you there’d been a threat outside but it wasn’t there anymore, and that’s fine, go back to sleep Maxim?”
He pinched the ridge of one eyebrow in an attempt to dislodge the pain blooming there. “The alley, and the elevator, and this. Just tell me why things keep trying to kill you. Is your life always like this?”
“Are you having second thoughts about being part of it?”
No. He thought the answer immediately, but chose to glower at her in response.
Pippa sighed. “A few days ago, I killed a demon that had connections.” She said the word as if it were a sinkhole to avoid. “And now its family wants revenge.”
“Ah, of course.” Maxim flung his arms up in a dramatic shrug. “New Hawkshead wouldn’t be complete without a demon mafia.”
She gave him a look. “That’s what I have to take care of today. I need to find out more. I’ve been looking for their lair—”
“Of course it’s a lair,” Maxim muttered.
“—and since they’re pretty set on killing me, there’s a bit of a time crunch.”
He took in the light purple smudges beneath her eyes, the tired tilt to her forced smile. God, he’d been deep in stress dream about rooms filled to their ceilings with paperwork while she’d been wondering if tonight was the night she was going to die.
The awful reality of her situation struck him, and she’d shouldered it all by herself.
“Let me come with you today,” he said. “Let me help.”
She hesitated, and Maxim could almost see the thoughts swirling within her. And then a sort of clarity descended. Her expression shifted into one of disappointment and hurt, as if she had come to some awful realization.
“And there it is,” she said.
“There what is?” Maxim said, utterly baffled at this change.
“Why you’re here. Why you stayed. You want in on excitement, and you want my life to be what gets you your sense of meaning. The other day in the bathroom, you convinced me it wasn’t your reason for being here, but that’s exactly what’s going on.”
“No. No, that isn’t true at all.”
“Isn’t it?” Pippa’s throat worked in a harsh swallow. “You didn’t give a fuck about me or my life until you learned I had magic. The moment you started treating me like I was a person was the same moment you realized I was more.”
“That isn’t true,” he repeated. But it came to him then that, yes, it had been true. Or at least, it had appeared to be true.
But she thought that . . .
Maxim clenched his fists. He had to fix this.
“No.” He stalked toward her. “I treated you as if you were someone who didn’t care about what we did in the firm. I took your constant distraction as apathy, and it frustrated me endlessly.”
Pippa narrowed her eyes at him. “So you—”
“I’m not finished.”
She blinked, and a slight flush crept up her throat at his stern tone.
“Then I learned you had magic, and of course it made sense. Why would you give a shit about a law firm if you could . . .” He made a broad gesture that barely mimicked the way she conjured.
They were standing close now, their feet almost touching.
Pippa had to tip her head back to look at him.
She smelled like her shampoo and the butter from breakfast and the barest cinnamon from her tea.
Maxim had to clench his jaw and hope the flash of discomfort would be enough to keep him steady against the urge to move closer until there was no space between them at all.
“Your power is amazing,” he said once he’d steadied himself.
“I can’t lie about that. But even if you had as much magic as this carpet, I’d be thrilled to spend any time with you that wasn’t in an office.
I’ve gotten to know you and understand you and like you, and if it’s taken magic and demons for that to happen, then so be it. ”
Pippa’s “Oh” emerged as a little sigh that warmed the skin of his neck.
“Is that enough of a rebuttal?” he said. “Should I go on?”
“I won’t stop you.”
Maxim opened his mouth to continue, but noticed the puckish glint in Pippa’s dark eyes and the way she was biting her lip to restrain a smile.
He’d been about to tell her tender, revelatory things, and it was highly unfair to say “I think about you every night” when she’d hardly revealed a single morsel of what lurked in her own thoughts.
He had the sudden feeling of standing at the edge of something enormous. It would be too easy to give in to worries. Too simple to shrug off the wanting that had burrowed into him if not for the sense that if he took one more step into the unknown and uncertain, perhaps he wouldn’t fall alone.
“Why did you really ask me to stay last night?” he said at last.
“I—” Pippa’s lips drifted apart. The bottom one shone from when she’d bitten it, the white line from her teeth easing slowly back into pink. A tension grew between her brows as if she were struggling with some decision.
Then her breath hitched. She reached up slowly, almost as if afraid he’d spook, and lay a gentle hand on his chest. Through the thin cotton of his sweatshirt, the warmth of her palm sent sparks skittering along his skin.
Maxim had never thought that a single touch could be an answer in itself. He’d never thought a look could be an entire conversation.
There was hope in her eyes, as well as a cautious uncertainty that had him reaching out in turn to slide his fingertips along her waist until they tangled in her shirt’s buttery-soft fabric.
One of them would have to speak at some point, surely. But Pippa’s lips were parted and her fingers were curling into his chest and her gaze was fixed on his mouth. On his mouth. On his—
Maxim had fucked up a fair amount of everything in his life, but he at least understood this.
He eliminated the distance between them in a single heartbeat.
His lips glided against hers as he cupped her nape and gripped her waist. She let out a soft, high moan and pressed herself more firmly into him.
The air around Maxim felt alive and hot, and it churned along his limbs like a wild, excited thing.
He swept one hand up into her hair and through her curls—silken and thick between his fingers—then tightened his hold to tip her head and take her mouth harder.
He worried for an instant that his enthusiasm would leave bruises, but she was being just as enthusiastic.
She nipped at his lower lip, then threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her.
His tongue flicked against hers and she let out another one of those sweet moans. Her breasts were crushed into his chest and if not for his damn sweatshirt, then maybe he’d be able to feel more of their weight and warmth.
Pippa gave a little grunt of frustration. Maxim realized she’d been balancing precariously on her toes in order to reach him and was struggling to maintain balance. She was short. He was not.
With a grunt of his own, he lifted her off the ground, pinning her to him with an arm around her waist and another across her back. Too soon to grab her ass. Probably.
Pippa wriggled against him, but before he could wonder if lifting her wasn’t what she’d wanted, she wrapped her legs around him, and he was practically forced to grab her ass in order to steady them both.
Unfortunate, really, that. Two handfuls of an ass that had bounced and jiggled its way into more fantasies than he’d like to admit.
Oh god, he’d need a thousand self-indulgent showers after this. He squeezed her with both hands, reveling in the delicious give of her body and the sounds she made in reaction.
His skin prickled in a rush of pleasure as she dragged her blunt fingernails over the nape of his neck. She started to grind against him, and if she couldn’t feel his erection through his jeans, he’d be shocked.
Pippa slid her mouth along the edge of his jaw and licked and nibbled her way to his ear. There was a spot, right beneath, that he knew would undo him.
She reached it and nipped the sensitive skin, and Maxim’s head spun. He staggered to a wall just so his legs would be less likely to buckle.
Pippa met the wall with a solid thump, and Maxim pulled away to say, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
But she didn’t seem to care. She interrupted his statement with a brief kiss, then tugged at the zipper on his sweatshirt.
“Take this off,” she ordered.
He would do anything she asked, everything she wanted. Maxim kept her pinned against the wall by his hips as he yanked at the sweatshirt and threw it onto the carpet. He was overheating anyway.
Pippa slipped a little down the wall, and although she squeezed her legs, he had to push against her to keep her from falling. The motion settled his hips into the hot bliss between her thighs. Her head tipped back and she groaned.