Daddy Unknown

Chapter 13 Part 2

Stupid, stupid, stupid. How on earth could he have been so stupid?

She'd given their friendship another go and the chance to let it blossom into something more, and he'd ruined it within the first few hours.

"I really am sorry, babe." He shuffled his feet in shame, and looked down.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, pretty boy." She grumbled, clearly irritated. "Now let's get you a dry t-shirt."

Moira crossed the living room and he followed her. In the first place, he'd felt bare and cold in his soaked clothing, but the sideway glances Moira had been shooting him made the suffering so much more tolerable. The wet fabric of his shirt outlined the toned muscles of his upper body, and clearly, she enjoyed the view.

When they started ascending the stars, she glanced over her shoulder, making sure he was sticking close. Harraël kept his eyes trained on his surroundings, admiring her stylishly decorated apartment. He'd only been to the second level once before, and during that time he hadn't had the chance to inspect it thoroughly.

Stepping into what he assumed to be Moira's bathroom, he was faced with a modestly sized yet beautifully furnished space. He walked towards her bed and flopped down onto it.
She cast him a stern look, presumably because her previously made-up bed was now and creasy mess.

He threw her a big grin in reply,

Disappearing behind a door, she came back seconds later with a neatly folded cable knitted sweater in her hands. "I hope it fits, but I'm pretty sure it does since I grew about seventy sizes." She said, handing the sweater over to him.

He stood up, and without even waiting for Moira to turn around or exit the room, he pulled his wet shirt off and threw it on the floor. She froze in place at the sight of his naked chest, not able to take her eyes off of him. Harraël gloated over the attention she was giving him, smirking cockily.

Instead of averting her gaze like he expected her to do, her eyes kept burning into his skin, letting her stare wander all over him.

"You have tattoos." She blurted, surprised. And it was then that Harraël realized she hadn't been checking him out, she'd been staring at his tattoos.

"A few." He shrugged.

"A few?" Her voice held a mocking tone, "You have at least 20 of them!"

"Much more than that, actually."

Hesitantly, she beckoned him towards her, wanting a closer look. Surprise crossed his features, though he didn't wait a second for her to change her mind. He crossed the short distance between them and came to a stop in front of her.

There were two swallows inked below his collarbones, an enormous ship tattoo on his torso just below his chest and an anchor inked on his left hip. Both his arms were literally littered in tattoos, some bigger than others. There were so many that she could hardly believe her eyes. How had he managed to hide this all?

They were all rather odd tattoos as well, she didn't know what they meant or what half of them were supposed to be. She noted how none of them included colors, just black ink.

Her gaze once again fell upon a big ship. "It's beautiful." She complimented, quietly, pointing at the ship.

"Thanks," He answered, watching her. "I like the old tattoos, the sailor kind."

Without thinking, she brought her hand forward and touched his tattoo. Sparks shot throughout Harraël and he wondered if she'd felt it too. She traced the dark ink with her finger, following the pattern as if in trance.