I glance up, unsurprised to see Cormac standing with his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. I can’t remember the last time I saw him smile, and that thought makes mystomach sink, because he’s even more handsome when he smiles.
“What are you doing?” He looks from me to the mountain of laundry, and back again.
“I’m helping fold some clothes. I need to feel useful.”
He gestures to the neatly stacked laundry. “That’s what the maids are being paid to do.”
I shrug and continue folding the clothes regardless. “Trust me, there’s enough laundry to go around.”
“If the maids are slacking?—”
“Cormac,” I snap.
He freezes, surprise flickering in his eyes.
I sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Sometimes, I just need to feel like I’m doing something right. That I’m beingusefulin some way.”
I chew on my lower lip as I add another pile of folded onesies to the basket.
Cormac doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him watching me.
“Was there something you needed?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I don’t know why I even asked.
The only reason Cormac seeks me out these days is that he needs something from me, whether that’s sex or to sprinkle some extra breadcrumbs for Lorcan to follow. Considering we’re waiting on Lorcan to reach out, that means he’s here for sex.
Was it too much to have just an hour to myself where I could fold laundry and pretend that my life is normal and not on the verge of blowing up?
I lift a pile of clean burp cloths and add them to the basket to be taken to Riley’s room. “Fine. Can I take these upstairs first? Or are you that insatiable that we’re going to fuck on top of the washing machine now?”
For the first time in weeks, I see the corner of Cormac’s mouth twitch. It happens so quickly I almost miss it.
“I don’t want sex.”
“Then what do you want?”
“What makes you think I want something?”
“You’re seriously asking me that question?” I snatch up the basket of clean laundry. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I have something for you.” He tucks his hands into his pockets.
“You literally just said you don’t want sex.”
Cormac pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he’s the one whose patience is fried.
Has he tried living with himself recently? One second, he’s telling me he can barely stand to look at me, and the next, he’s bending me over every available surface just so he can fuck me.
“I don’t.”
“Cormac, I’m tired. I want to go and give these to Riley and take a shower. Can this wait?”
“It can, but I don’t think you’ll want to wait.”
I narrow my eyes, wondering if this is some kind of joke. “What is it?”
