Chapter 30
Casa Di Borcha
brIGIT
My extended staycation at Casa Di Borcha has left me feeling more than just a little bit antsy.
Every single one of my routines and comforts has been stripped away. Truthfully, I’m not sure who I am without them.
Three whole days I’ve been locked up in his house.
A beautiful home, sure, but cold and empty.
I’m surrounded by the evidence of him trying to add some life into it since he’s been home from the hospital.
A green plant by the window that somehow he manages to keep alive even though I can’t do that to save my life.
A handful of art pieces in different styles, stacked up against a wall in the living room as if he couldn’t decide which one suited him.
The ultra cozy gray blanket draped over a dark couch.
It’s a vision of someone tiptoeing back into being a person after being something else for so long.
It leaves me wondering who he was before the brain injury, if he spent any time here, if there was any warmth at all to that man.
He’s been a little off since the other night.
But I wouldn’t say killing someone made him into a different person. Just a slightly more paranoid and protective one.
He’s hardly let me out of his sight since we got here, and as much as it should feel overbearing, it somehow doesn’t. He’s been accommodating, nearly force-feeding me coffee every morning until he’s satisfied and I’m buzzing with energy.
And it’s been a nonstop movie marathon.
I’m unofficially grounded from the TV and my phone. Texts from old coworkers and a certain old boss almost sent Cormac off the deep end. Unless my mom has an emergency, there’s really no one I need to hear from.
It’s been enlightening to see just how alone I really am.
Kelly and Antoine have tried reaching out, but even they’re a little bit scared for me and of me. They might know Stella, but they didn’t realize Cormac was part of Mingle until the news broke, and now they’re scrambling, wondering how much I knew about all of it.
And I don’t have answers that would satisfy them. How can I explain that, yes, technically, the man they're all afraid of was stalking me and breaking into my home to watch me. And yes, technically, we are closer than just strangers. But there’s no explanation for what we are.
Not even one that makes sense to me.
“Are you gonna be okay here by yourself tonight?” Cormac asks, sliding over a plate of turkey bacon and toast. “I don’t have to go.”
I let a small smile lift my lips, “Yes, you do. And yes, I will. We’ve been here for days and haven’t so much as gotten a knock on the door. I’m not worried about it.”
He sets another plate on the table before silently stalking around it to sit next to me, “Are you sure? Maybe I could have Stella come keep you company at least.”
I focus on my meal to keep from melting into his smothering too much. “I think you forget that I’m really used to being alone. I don’t mind being on my own.”
He nods, “Yeah, but it’s different. You’re not alone at home. You’re alone somewhere unfamiliar. You don’t even have your favorite vibrator here to keep you warm while I’m gone.”
I have to choke down my sip of coffee, nearly spitting it all over both of our breakfasts. “Cormac Fomori, did you go through my bedside table?”
He chuckles, taking a bite of his toast, “Of course, I did. I was looking for your gun and found something equally exciting.”
“Oh, my god,” I can’t help the mortification sending warmth into my face. “You pervert.”
Still laughing, he leans over and plants his lips on the corner of mine before continuing to eat. Just a quick little nothing peck, but the casual comfort in it sends me spiraling.
I don’t know how to deal with affection that I didn’t earn.
It’s being extended to me for no reason other than that Cormac wants me to have it, and as much as it thrills me, it equally terrifies me. It’s shining a glaring light on all the relationships I’ve had in the past, both romantic and otherwise.
“Eat, Brig,” he tears me out of my winding thoughts. “You’ll have plenty of time to worry later.”
“I’m not worrying.”
Turning me towards him, he uses his thumb to gently swipe between my eyebrows. “Your face definitely thinks you are.”
His playful demeanor reminds me a little more of the night we met, but there’s no denying he’s different now. Dark circles under his eyes, and instead of the pristinely styled hair he had then, he’s opted to keep it short and cropped, his widow's peak on full display.
And I can tell that he’s fighting to keep his darker tendencies at bay. He might have killed someone, but he hasn’t had reason to step all the way into who he used to be, thankfully. I’m not sure he could handle it now without the memories that made him who he was.
I don’t let my mind wander to that other part of him any longer, trying to enjoy the one in front of me in case we lose each other again.
“I’m not worrying,” I try again. “It’s more like… wondering.”
He hums, “And what is my little bunny wondering about this morning?”
About when I started thinking of you as someone I couldn’t lose. About what that says about me.
“Just what comes next, I guess,” I steer the conversation another way. “I don’t have any job prospects. It’s not like your name is suddenly going to disappear from the headlines.”
“Yeah, but there’s no reason yours can’t,” he offers, easing my hair over my shoulder, his thumb grazing my pulse.
I shrug, standing to clean my dish, taking Cormac’s with me, falling into a rhythm that already feels familiar, though it’s only been a few days of us having breakfast together here.
“I still have connections at a job I had when I was in college, so I could go back there. It won’t pay enough for my current apartment, but I’m not sure I want to stay there much longer anyway.
I could probably get a cheaper one a few minutes further from the city. ”
Cormac suddenly appears behind me, reaching his arms around on both sides to turn on the sink and actually clean the dishes I was standing here staring at.
His warm chest at my back, the subtle smell of his leftover cologne from yesterday, the scent of warm coffee and minty toothpaste gently trailing over my shoulder from his steady breathing, I’m once again overwhelmed by him when he’s barely done anything at all.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
He nuzzles my neck with an appreciative hum, speaking against the sensitive skin, “You’re welcome.”
Once satisfied with the plates, he washes and dries both of our hands, and I’m frozen in the cage of his body, a prisoner to his relentless care.
Easing my hair back to free up more real estate on my neck, Cormac leans in again, kissing my pulse and making it race.
He sighs, the warm air rushing over me and sending electricity through me.
“I’m gonna go shower,” I announce in little more than a desperate sigh.
With a self-satisfied chuckle, he nods against my neck, the slight scratch of his scruff causing goosebumps to rise across my skin.
“Okay, Bunny,” he mumbles, his mouth shaping the syllables against my rapidly thrumming pulse. “You remember where to find the towels?”
I nod, but I actually don’t think I can remember anything right now. Not even how to fucking breathe.
He leaves one more lingering press of his warm lips against the sensitive spot beneath my ear, then all at once, his warmth disappears from around me, letting me breathe for the first time since he approached.
When I turn to face him, he’s leaning back against his table, a devilish smirk pulling one side of his lips up.
A prickle of anticipation zips up my spine from the way he’s looking at me, but I can’t put my finger on why.
It’s not the first time I’ve showered since we’ve been here.
And it’s not the first time we’ve had breakfast and cleaned up together afterwards.
But something in the air has my hands shaking as I walk toward the staircase, my heart pounding behind my ribs almost painfully, my stomach doing little flips.
I take the stairs slowly, trying to calm my racing pulse.
Why am I so nervous?
He ran his lips up and down my neck, then I interrupted to tell him I’m going to shower.
That’s an invitation, right?
Shit.
I freeze on the stairs, second-guessing myself.
Did I mean to invite him? Do I want him to join me?
I know what will happen if he does.
He knows what will happen if he does.
And in typical Cormac fashion, I know all I have to do is leave a door cracked, both metaphorically and literally. He’ll do the rest, breaking down the barriers and taking what I don’t have the courage to ask for.
Stepping onto the top of the stairs, I find myself with two options.
I could use the hallway shower, the one I’ve used every day since I’ve been here.
Or…
Is it more obvious if I use the one in his room?
Jesus Christ, I’m overthinking this.
I’m not even sure I want it to be obvious or that I want him to get in with me.
That’s a lie.
Of course I do.
I just don’t want to say it.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I’m so fucked in the head that I need to convince myself I don’t want it, that he’s taking all of it by force, so I don’t need to feel guilty for letting him burrow into my soul.
His bathroom is just as pristine as the rest of the house, a nearly empty vanity with minimal toiletries. Starting the water, I wander to the counter as it heats up, grabbing the beautiful bottle nestled in with his razor and shaving cream.
Lifting the glass up to my nose, I inhale the utterly sinful cologne, my body getting fucking high at the scent Cormac wears. But even fresh from the bottle, it can’t compare to how intoxicating it is on his skin.
Of course, he could make even expensive cologne better somehow.
As the room starts to warm and steam, I strip my clothes with all the gentleness of ripping a Band-Aid off, throwing myself into the hot stream of water.
I let the heat wash over my muscles, relishing in the incredible pressure of water falling from the ceiling, wishing the relaxing water was enough to calm my nerves.