Cormac (Book 1) by Naomi West

Author:Naomi West
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mafia romance, dark romance, contemporary romance, bad boy romance, wedding and pregnancy romance, fake marriage mistake romance, secret baby romance, second chance romance
Publisher: MBK Hanson Inc.
Published: 2019-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Cormac

I dream of the day dad told me about mom. In the dream, I am as tiny as I felt in that moment, a little one-inch boy sitting in a chair as big as the Grand Canyon, with a giant the size of God looming over me. “You’re going to hear talk about her,” he said. “So I might as well tell you. Aye, it’s true, she was a whore. And she’s gone now. Vegas, I think. She don’t know you, and I don’t know her.” I remember wondering why it was a bad thing to be a whore. I never knew what the problem was. But then, as I got older, I started to see that most whores were on drugs or crazy or very sad all the time. I started to see that my mother must’ve been a weak person with no friends and no family. When I went down to Vegas to find her on my twentieth birthday, she was working as a receptionist, hair gray and skin leathered from all those hard years. I told her who I wa,s and she slapped me across the face and called me a lying bastard. I didn’t go back.

“So, remember,” the God-sized giant booms. “Never trust a whore.”

I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of Scar creeping across the room. Scar isn’t a whore, which is maybe one of the reasons I’m so drawn to her. Or maybe it has nothing to do with that. Fuck it, I’ve never known about stuff like that. People look inside themselves way too much these days, is my reasoning. You can’t take a shit without some talk show host somewhere trying to explain to you why that particular shit relates back to your childhood. My first urge is to turn over and say something to her, but that might stop her from coming over here. She’s way more complicated than I ever would’ve guessed, that’s what I’m starting to learn. She used to just be Scar, an FBI agent with a mask so solid it’d take years to crack. Something about seeing Moira—seeing me and Moira together—has changed that. I don’t know what.

She climbs into bed, crawls across the sheets, and places her hand on my belly. I feel hunger stirring and my cock hardening, but I know that if I try it on with her again so soon, she’ll get all crazy again. I guess I’ll have to settle for cuddling. Cuddling, goddamn, and with Scar it’s not such a bad thing. After a while, she starts to snore sweetly. Moving carefully, I turn over and look down at her face. The curtains are thin, allowing streetlamps, moonlight, and the light of passing trucks to shine onto her face. She’s smiling, a small, sad smile, and her eyebrows are furrowed in concern. I touch her face, smoothing my hand down her cheek, and her eyebrows relax. I feel pretty good about that, I have to admit. It feels like having a woman.

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