Page 94 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
Her mouth dried up.
Were those tattoos?
Droplets of water dotted his skin from what she could see—she shamelessly zoomed in—but the backlighting of her bathroom made it hard to discern the details. Saving the picture into a digital folder, Anika opened the editing tools along the bottom. She dialed up the brightness on the photo to watch in real time as Mikko’s face cleared…along with the defined planes of his chest and torso.
And the tattoos inked there.
The floral blackout sleeves were ones she’d seen before, but she had no idea they covered his entire arms. The head of an inked snake rested along the space where his neck met his shoulder. Vines swirled below his neckline where a collared shirt would sit along with four little letters.
CTRL.
Anika’s brow quirked. She remembered seeing that tattoo peeking above his collar atBubblegum.
His hair was messy and wet, an indication of what she’d find in her bedroom and bathroom mere steps away: a wet towel and floor.
A dagger tattoo carved across his sternum, the blade narrowing to a point a couple inches above his navel.
Closing out of the image, she returned her attention to her bedroom. He was long gone by now, unable to corner her after a stunt like this. She was sure of it. Still, she silently walked forward, her stance loose but alert. Using her foot, she pushed the door open, eyes scanning the room.
Before her, all was calm. The clothes she’d left on the floor remained as is, the curtains pushed aside to let the night in along with stars. Rumpled sheets littered her bed, just as she’d left it. Spinning, shekicked the door shut, checking behind it in case someone lurked there instead. She was met with nothing, which was both a relief and an annoyance.
Something in the airfeltdifferent, the scent skewed—not the way she remembered it. Stepping farther into the room, her eyes scanned the shadows for something that didn’t belong.
She caught sight of a folded silhouette of something atop the chair in the corner of her room.
Is that what I think it is…
Sure enough, with her eyes continuously scanning, she walked over and unfolded her missing scarf. She wasn’t sure if Mikko returning it was a gentlemanly thing to do or a scare tactic. Probably both since the man couldn’t seem to make up his mind. As she inspected it in the lowlight, his scent wafted off the fabric—leather and patchouli. And her fingers encounteredmultiplecrusty spots.
Scoffing, Anika dropped it on the floor. “Classy.”
Walking toward her bathroom took an eon, the floor stretching out before her, and the air grew thicker with each step. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, humidity assaulted her skin. It seemed like someone had helped themselves to her soaps.Recently.
And it was easy to figure out who it was when he’d sent her a billboard sized “look at me” picture.
Angrily flicking the light switch on, she instantly spotted the haze covering the mirror, the telltale water droplets splattered over her floor, and the damp spot on her towel hanging on a hook nearby.
That little shit.
She went to step closer, the shower curtain closed, leaving a blind spot in her exploration, but a glimmer in the basin of her sink had her stopping.
It was all over her cosmetics too.
Shower forgotten, Anika leaned closer, inspecting the mess left forher to find, and without a doubt she knew what it was.
Cum.
Fire lit beneath her skin.
Mikko had come into her house—pun intended—showered in her bathroom, and then proceeded to jerk off in front of her mirror and onto her things. That was probably the only way he could finish—by staring at himself in the mirror. Anika’s teeth clenched, her sense of privacy thoroughly invaded. How many times had he broken in to prove that he could? How many times had he taunted her because she got under his skin?
Too many but she’d played timid, silent, and enduring of his stupidity.
But enough was enough.
While it had been her intent to draw him in, it didn’t mean she had to just take it.
Certain Mikko was long gone, Anika looked back at the mess before her. Tucked neatly near the faucet of her sink was a note, stuck there courtesy of the viscous liquid.
