Page 122 of Beneath the Light of the Moon

Not only had Mikko stood and watched her sleep, but he’d also been in her bed.

Anika’s eyes shifted from the puddle—one she could no longer seesince the darkness had taken over again—and the wet spot on her bed.

How long had I slept with him watching me?

Suddenly, the dream-like caresses she’d experienced right before she’d woken up made more sense. They hadn’t been phantom touches, but real fingertips tracing her body’s side profile. Fear and anger pulsed within her, banishing the desire she’d felt upon waking.

Each interaction he had with her was like he was trying to prove what he could do and get away with. The feeling of Mikko’s lips pressed to hers on Halloween hadn’t vanished from her mind. He was everywhere, a fact that made her thirty-one year old self smile, but her thirteen year old self shudder.

Emotion curled in her throat making it hard to swallow, and everything that had led Anika to this moment was starting to feel like it was going to explode. The pieces of her puzzle were simultaneously falling into place while also fragmenting in others.

It was now or never.

After clearing her entire house, Mikko nowhere to be found, Anika vowed that all this had to come to an end.

And soon.

* * *

Mikko - A Few Moments Before

He knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn’t stay away. After he’d found Cristiano at the party and returned him home safely, albeit slightly drunk, he’d changed out of his costume and went for a drive. The storm that had been brewing unleashed itself on him, but hestayed out, content to let the precipitation wash away his thoughts.

And somewhere along the way, Anika’s house had materialized before him.

Mark my words, we will meet again, and it’ll be on my terms.

Mikko disagreed, and that was why he was here.

Rain dripped off his clothes, trailing down his skin causing goosebumps to pop up in their wake. The droplets that had collected on him during his trek to her house now puddled beneath him as he stood at the top of the steps leading into her kitchen.

He was here so much that it was beginning to feel like his own home.

Maskless and emboldened from the kiss he’d shared with Anika in the maze, Mikko had decided to pay her a visit again. He was hellbent on proving her wrong. Inhaling, the deep breath bringing reassurance and balance back into his body, Mikko noted the ever-present fragrance of her. While he might feel like it was his house through association, her scent was everywhere, reminding him of the opposite.

It was all he’d been thinking about since he’d stumbled out of the maze practically drunk on her touch and promptly found Cristiano. After a soft scolding—Cristiano told him he’d been around one of the fire pits close to the sunroom—both men had left. His friend had tried to ask what had Mikko so riled up, where his helmet had gone, and if he was on drugs. But he quickly shut those questions down.

Now, he was silently slipping his boots off in the house of a woman who’d plagued him endlessly. The light above the stove was on as always, lighting his way and inviting him in farther. But at this point, he was able to walk her house from memory, even if she’d tried to shift her furniture slightly every couple weeks.

The stove clock had indicated it was a little past two-thirty in the morning and a certain kind of quietness blanketed the house. Itwas Mikko’s favorite time of night since he felt the whole world lay vulnerable at his feet while he crept through the shadows, not disturbing a soul.

And tonight, his world was Anika.

In the dim light, he sought out her sleeping form on the bed in front of him.

There.

Her thick covers were thrown off her body, bunched up under her legs as she lay on her side. An extra pillow was clutched to her chest and the sight made his heart lurch. Suddenly he was wishing to replace the pillow with himself.

Pitiful.

A flash of lightning outside lit her room up momentarily and Mikko gathered more details in that short span of time. Her shorts barely covered her upper thighs, and the tank top adorning her chest left little to the imagination. So many of her tattoos were on display.

He longed to walk over and run his fingertips across her silky skin, but he remained rooted to his spot near the door. Her soft breaths calmed the inner turmoil wanting to rise up in his throat. Raindrops splashing onto the floor sounded occasionally, reminding him that he was dripping all over.

His mind thought back to another time he’d been in here,drippingall over everything.

He smiled.