Chapter 102 AM I HALLUCINATING ?
MERRIELYNN.
Cormac’s lips pressed against mine, and it felt like the world was spinning.
His weight pinned me down, his fingers caressing my bare shoulders and the nape of my neck. My hands moved around to grip his shoulders tightly as he deepened the kiss. As I opened my mouth, his tongue slipped inside, and I moaned into the kiss as it slid into my mouth.
He pulled me closer and his fingers gripped into my hair, keeping me from moving away from him. I moaned again as his hand went lower, sliding under the hem of my shirt.
“Okay, okay,” I said, laughing as I tried to catch my breath. “You kiss like a rabid dog.”
He didn’t laugh.
I blinked up at him, still giggling, but his face was serious. His green eyes were searching mine, intensely.
The laughter died.
"Relax," I reached up and brushed my fingers along his cheek. I softened my voice, finding myself whispering, “I’m not going anywhere, Cormac.”
Why did I just say that?
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Promise?” he asked in a thick voice.
My brows furrowed, as he leaned down again, his lips brushing mine so softly it made my heart skip. This kiss wasn’t wild or hungry like before—it was careful, like he was afraid I might disappear if he pushed too hard.
Why?
Why was he acting so weird today?
And somehow, that softness hit me harder than the most passionate kiss ever could. It wasn’t just butterflies in my stomach; it was a whole storm. I gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, and letting myself get lost in him again.
Just then, a phone rang, disrupting our moment.
Cormac froze, his lips just barely brushing mine, before he pulled back and glanced toward the sound.
“It’s your phone,” I said, still breathless.
“I know,” he muttered, not moving right away. “I’m contemplating whether to answer it or not.”
I smiled softly as he pushed himself and then headed toward the nightstand where his phone was charging. He picked it up, glanced at the screen, then at me. Whatever he saw there made him frown, and without another word, he swiped to answer.
“Yeah,” he said quietly and headed for the door.
I sat up, and my gaze moved to the clock on the wall. It was already four in the afternoon! When did that happen?
I’d come over this morning, thinking we’d hang out for a while, but the whole day had gone by without me noticing.
I suddenly felt muggy. Not dirty exactly—I just needed something refreshing. And honestly, Cormac’s shower? That waterfall shower head and those ridiculously fluffy towels? Twas heaven!
I got up and stretched before stepping out. I saw Cormac was just outside on the balcony, sliding the glass doors open. His phone was pinned between his shoulder and his ear, and I could barely hear what he was saying into it. In his free hand, he was holding a pack of cigarettes.
“I’m going to shower,” I called out.
He glanced over his shoulder and gave a small nod.
I walked off and stepped into the shower, deciding to take my time. It felt indulgent being in that bathroom, but I didn’t care. Today, I used his body wash, which always leftme smelling clean and woodsy. By the time I stepped out, I went through his dresser and pulled out a clean shirt. It smelled like him—something faintly musky and familiar. I put it on, and the shirt almost fell to my knees.
I combed my fingers through my damp hair before stepping out, and at that time, Cormac was done with his call.
He flicked the butt of a cigarette over the edge, watching it go down before exhaling one last stream of smoke. Tendrils curled lazily around him, and I wrinkled my nose.
I couldn’t help but wonder how his lungs could take it.
I stopped beside him, my eyes roaming around his body and resting on his arm. I noticed his tattoos, the black swirls shifting with his movements. The light caught on the sharp edges of the designs, making them stand out even more.
“They’re amazing,” I said softly, tracing a finger near, but not quite touching, one of the patterns. “How old were you when you got your first one?” I asked.
He hesitated before answering. “Fourteen.”
“Fourteen?” I repeated, my eyes widening. “Were you even allowed?”
He chuckled, “Not exactly.”
“How many do you have now?” I asked, studying the way the tattoos seemed to cover almost every inch of his arm.
“Lost count,” he admitted with a shrug. “Got most of them before I turned eighteen. A few after.”
I leaned closer, tracing the outline of a small symbol near his wrist. “What’s this one?”
His gaze followed my finger. “A rune,” he said. “It’s supposed to mean strength, but who knows if it actually does.”
I smiled, letting my eyes wander across the other shapes and letterings. My fingers skimmed along the designs onhis arm, tracing each swirl and letter. Then, as I reached his bicep, I froze.
It was faint, almost blending in with the intricate black ink, butit wasclear enough to stop me in my tracks.
It was...
Cormac noticed what I was looking at, and before I could say anything, he pulled his arm away and sat up, clearing his throat.
“You wanna watch a movie or something?” he asked quickly, already moving toward theliving room.
I blinked, my brain still trying to process what I’d just seen. “Uh… yeah, sure.”
He turned back, offering me his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”
We ended up on the couch and saw a movie. I couldn’t pay much attention because my mind kept circling back to his arm, trying to convince myself I imagined what I saw. There was no way.
When I got home that night, I headed straight to Emorie’s room without even pausing to take off my shoes. She was lying on her bed, reading a novel, but the second I barged in, she sat up.
“Hey! You’re back late, I went to your room earlier and––”
I cut her off completely, blurting out with rapt confusion, “I think Cormac has a tattoo of my name on his arm.”