Daddy Unknown

Chapter 38

The day after the party, Moira spent the majority of her morning cleaning the apartment from empty bottles, dirty dishes and leftovers. When she was done, her legs involuntarily moved in the direction of Harry's music room that was located next to the staircase, near the living room.

Sure enough, Harry was lazily sprawled on one of the chesterfield couches, his back flat against its cushions, his head pressed into a pillow. He held his phone over his face, a curious crease between his brows as he didn't bother the slightest bit to look her way.

Crossing her arms, she cleared her throat, earning a small look. "I'm done cleaning. Thanks for your help." She said sarcastically.

"You're welcome."

Moira rolled her eyes, climbing on top of him, straddling his waist, and hovering over his face. She could instantly feel him tense under her at the close proximity, his eyes slowly meeting hers again. By force of habit, his arms wound around her waist, urging her closer. "Whatcha doing?" she asked.

"I was trying to find synonyms for words, but now I'm looking at the meanings of names." his eyes flickered down to her tank top, and she knew a bit of her cleavage was showing since she was hunched over. She could instantly see his pupils dilate from the view he had.

"Eyes up," she said with a chuckle, seeing that Harry brought his gaze up for a split second before stealing another glance.

"It's not my fault," He grumbled, leaning his head fully back and seemingly becoming distracted by a thought. "Did you know your name means 'bitter'?"

"I did, why?"

"It kind of suits you." He sounded slightly amused.

"Careful now, you wouldn't want to release the bitter beast."

He was once looking over his phone, but his attention was now on her. "Was that... a joke?" he teased, cracking a playful grin.

"Shut up." Moira grumbled, struggling to keep a straight face -which he noticed.

Trying to ignore the humorous glint in his eyes, her focus switched to his earring -a reminder of her own oblivion. Comparing her donor's physical- and personality traits to Harry's, it was beyond her why she hadn't noticed the precise similarities before. Although on the other hand, what are the chances?

100% apparently.

She got lost in her thoughts and ran a finger from the top of his forehead to the bridge of his nose, kissing him there. Gently feeling all her insides begin to unravel at the contact.

"Do you wanna see your birthday present?" Harry questioned casually, pulling her from her reverie -he'd been observing her.

He wore an olive colored beanie over his curly hair, suppressing the bouncing mess. There was one stray curl near his ear, poking from the confinement, as if stretching for freedom. It annoyed her. She took off the beanie and marvelled at the sight of his hairdo as she ran her hands through it. "I thought we agreed on no presents?"

"You agreed on no presents," he corrected, briefly closing his eyes at the sensation of her nails scraping his scalp -close to bursting out purring. "and besides, it's not something I can give to you. Not in the literal sense."

She looked confused with a hint of curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Pull my shirt off."

Moira obeyed without a word of complaint and he had to lift his back a little off of the cushions to assist her in successfully removing the piece of clothing. Laying back, he waited for her to see.