Page 47 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
Did Anika see you enter the lockbox code at the warehouse?:Mikko
A few seconds later:
Levi:No, why?
Mikko didn’t have time to explain right now, especially over text, so he left him on read. When he got back, they’d reconvene.
Back out in the hallway he tried another door. It was a bathroom filled with white tile up to his chest. The smell of shampoos and lotions hung in the air, but they weren’t hers; this was fresher, a scent fit for visiting guests.
The fourth and final door loomed before him: Anika’s bedroom. A place he hoped would tell him everything he needed to know about her.
The door gave way to him on quiet hinges. Stepping inside, Mikko immediately noted the rumbled bed sheets and open curtains. The nearby city’s light pollution and the moon provided him with enough light to see by. Two windows faced her backyard with another large tree visible from his vantage point. A couple articles of clothing were on the floor, scattered like she’d hurriedly gotten ready, unable to decide what she wanted to wear. His boot nudged some pieces out of his way.
A large part of him hoped she noticed the change. He knew he would if the roles were reversed, and his mind flashed back to the night of his penthouse being in disarray.
Even if that was a dark spot on his memory, Mikko didn’t let it distract him from this moment. While he couldn’t put his emotionsinto words, he was content to stand there relishing in whatever feelings swept through his bloodstream.
He couldn’t stop it from surging in his throat—winding his muscles tight.
He’d been trained to be desensitized to these kinds of nefarious actions. In the past, if he were to get caught, it would end in bloodshed. Now, if he got caught it wouldn’t be about retribution, it’d be about thechase.It would promise something more wicked than murder…
Lust fueled by intrigue.
And hatred.
A dangerous concoction even for a mafia man like him.
Still, a different kind of hunger crawled beneath his skin. Mikko didn’t care if Anika hated him because he knew he could convince her to see him as he was. An equal. Desire and loathing ran hand in hand in his mind; what harm would this little fire between them result in? All he needed wastime.
And I’m a patient man. Mostly.
His eyes snagged on her bed again, noting that beneath the rumpled green duvet lay soft, satin bed sheets. They were also wrinkled and slept in and covered inher. His outstretched hand hovered in midair above her bed, chest aching. Mikko had the sudden urge to touch them.
Fuck, I want to do more than touch them.
He yearned to climb in, intertwine himself with her musky scent—the same one currently polluting her whole damn house and preventing him from thinking straight—until they were one, indistinguishable from the other. His mouth watered at the idea, blood flowing lower as his erection strained behind his zipper.
Before he could stop himself, he fell to his knees at her bedside. Primal instinct took over, controlling him like a master would his beast. Leaning impossibly close, his nose skimmed the sheets, andeven though his balaclava prevented him from touching it freely, he still groaned at the scent she left behind. He could only describe it as a soft touch of cashmere woods and milky sweet marshmallows. It was barely there, the hints of tonka bean and deep, silky caramel, but it was enough to make Mikko crave more.
It wasintoxicating.
He palmed himself through his jeans, unable to keep his desire under control. His cock ached and throbbed, his year long celibacy suddenly feeling like a fatal mistake. Just when he’d decided to give up on women, one had singled him out and made him question everything.
He wanted to take her on this bed, on the floor, and on every goddamn surface of her house until he was satisfied. He yearned to have her wetness dripping down his chin and coating his cock as he rutted into her like a madman. What sounds would she make as he stretched her tight little cunt out—made her pay for all the times she’d taunted him?
Mikko’s fist pressed against his mouth to stifle a groan building in the back of his throat. He feared he’dneverbe able to get enough of her; he’d never be satiated. His days as a CEO would be reduced to worshiping her until she screamed his name and begged for him to stop—begged for him to make her come. Again and again and again…
Fuck, I’m losing it.
Mikko fought to build another wall in his mind, but he was struggling. He struggled with every fiber in his being for control over his body once more. But while she may tempt him, her guilty actions were still at the forefront of his mind.Mostly.
So, he locked away the unruly side he’d let slip out. Tonight was not the night to entertain the thoughts formulating in his head. The ones where he lurked within the shadows before pouncing on herwhen she returned home and making her plead for mercy he would not give.
Frustration coated his tongue, his mind addled by emotions he’d dealt with in the past, but had no idea how to manage. Anger came easily to him, an almost comforting emotion, but these others…they were more troublesome. Harder to control and to understand.
Thiswas why people always ran away from him; he never did anything half-assed.
Hating the uncertainty lining his gut, he craved the fresh air that came with riding his motorcycle—the distraction of the wind and speed ripping at him as he tore down the ribboned highways.
