Falling for my Enemy's Brother
Chapter 35: Caught in the cabin

Chapter 35: Caught in the cabin

Merlina got into the car against every bone in her body. The moment the door shut, she was enveloped in the luxurious scent of leather, musk, and something unmistakably him. Clean, expensive, distracting.

Before she could reach for her seatbelt, Craig leaned in and strapped her in himself. His fingers brushed the side of her waist, light but lingering. His breath grazed her cheek, too close to her lips, and for a split second, the air inside the car tightened.

Her mind screamed at her to get out. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Before she could change her mind, Craig zoomed off like he was a character in Fast and Furious. It felt like she was strapped into one of those rides you regret the moment they start, the kind with names like Devil’s Ride or Hell’s Loop.

"Where are we going?" Merlina asked, arms folded, trying to mask the nervous flutter in her chest.

Craig didn’t answer right away. His fingers drummed lazily on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road ahead. "You’ll find out," he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"That’s not comforting."

He glanced at her briefly, amused. "Relax. I’m not going to kidnap you. Not in front of witnesses, at least."

She rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders eased a little. The silence in Craig’s car was thick, stretching between them like a dare.

It wasn’t until the car turned down a winding path, flanked by towering trees, that she started to wonder what exactly she’d agreed to.

But then the cabin came into view. Nestled beside a small, silver lake, it looked like something out of a dream—quiet, untouched, peaceful. The kind of place where everything felt suspended, like time had forgotten to pass.

He parked, stepped out, and opened her door without a word like it was the most natural thing.

Merlina stared at the cabin, then at him. "What is this ?"

Craig chuckled, low and quiet. "A cabin?" he said, casually gesturing toward the wooden structure behind him. "What does it look like?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I mean why are we here?"

Craig let out a breath. "I don’t know Merlina, I’m not the one who brought a party to the philosophy room."

A flicker passed through his eyes, maybe intrigue, or something more. It was as if he was studying her, analyzing her every reaction like he would one of his well-worn books.

Then, softening just slightly, he added, "I usually come here to study when the guest house gets too loud. There are books inside we could use."

His voice dipped with that last sentence, lower, smoother, like he was offering her more than just a place to revise. As if this cabin, tucked away in the quiet of the woods, was his escape and now, somehow, she was part of it.

She sighed and stepped inside.

The cabin was warm, inviting. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting shadows that danced across the wooden walls. The scent of burning cedar mixed with something faintly clean, like fresh linen. Craig had been here before. Recently. That much was clear.

Merlina walked toward the fireplace, arms wrapped around herself. A sudden chill crept beneath her skin, not from the cold, but from everything she was feeling. Her head was spinning, her heart a little louder than usual.

Then she saw it.

Through the large glass windows, the lake glistened beneath the moonlight. Tiny lights strung along the porch reflected on the still water, like stars that had fallen just for her. The view was stunning, like something pulled out of a dream she didn’t know she had.

"Enjoying the view?" Craig said from behind her. She jumped slightly, not realizing he was that close.

"You’re not gonna drown me, are you?" she asked, half teasing, half testing.

He chuckled, low and amused. "Is that what Louis told you? That I’m some psycho ?"

The way he said it, light, almost mocking, it made her feel silly for even thinking it. But she didn’t answer. Instead, she let her gaze drift around the room. Books lined the walls, neat but clearly read. No dust, no clutter. There was thought here. Intention. Craig Lesnar wasn’t the careless type.

He moved to one of the shelves and pulled down a leather-bound journal, then turned toward her.

"So, what are we gonna review?" he asked, holding the journal in one hand, flipping through, he asked. "Tell me, what do you suck the most at?"

She looked at him, amused. "Are we really doing this? Tutorial thing? It’s not like I’m failing. I just need to make up for a test. You don’t actually have to lecture me."

He continued staring at her, as if waiting for her to make sense.

"We could just pretend we did and get this over with." Merlina added.

Craig tilted his head, his eyes scanning her like he was trying to figure out where to press next.

"You know," he said, voice calm but pointed, "for someone who’s so passionate about justice, you’re extremely defiant."

His statement almost made her laugh but she held it in, unwilling to admit to herself that a small part of her was savoring this moment. His presence, his voice, the way his eyes seemed to linger on hers, and the way his closeness seemed to pull her in.

She turned back toward the fire, trying to ignore the feeling building up in her chest. She could feel the energy between them stretching tighter. The atmosphere wasn’t just about the tutorial. It never had been.

Craig grabbed a folded blanket from the armrest and tossed it gently in her direction. "Get comfy," he said, a teasing glint in his eye. "It’s about to be a long night."

Merlina caught it, but didn’t move right away. Instead, she gave him a look, one eyebrow raised, her lips pressed into a line. The kind of look that said what exactly do you mean by that?

Craig didn’t flinch. If anything, his smirk deepened. "Since, obviously, you’re a slow learner," he added, walking past her. His body pressed just a little too close, his breath warm against her ear as he passed.

Merlina sat down on the couch, her body sinking into the soft cushions. The blanket settled over her lap, but the warmth she felt wasn’t just from the fire. "I know you’re enjoying this. Your temporary control over me, but it’s not gonna last forever."

"I am," he said, without even pretending to deny it. His tone was maddeningly calm. "And I plan to enjoy it while it lasts."

Craig moved around the open kitchen with maddening ease, barefoot, sleeves pushed up, pouring two cups of coffee like this was some kind of sleepover. She tried not to stare, but there was something dangerously intimate about seeing him like this. No suit. No arrogance. Just... him.

Merlina watched him move around, her eyes tracing the way his shoulders flexed under his shirt as he reached for the mugs. There was something unsettling about seeing him like this, comfortable, almost gentle. She hadn’t prepared for this side of Craig Lesnar.

He glanced over his shoulder, catching her in the act.

Their eyes locked.

Busted.

She blinked and looked away too quickly. "What do you plan to do?" she asked, the words tumbling out, desperate to mask the stare she didn’t mean to hold.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he moved from the kitchen in silence, effortlessly with coffee in hand.

He placed the mugs on the table, then lowered himself beside her on the couch—close, deliberate. Their thighs touched, the faintest press of skin against skin, but it sent a slow, unmistakable ripple up her spine. The contact was fleeting, innocent on the surface, yet charged enough to make her pulse stutter. Her breath hitched, nerves buzzing, every part of her suddenly aware of how near he was.

"I could tell you," he murmured, turning slightly toward her. His voice was low, teasing. "But where’s the fun in that?"

She swallowed, her nerves buzzing. The air between them was thick, too thick.

Too dangerous.

They both lean forward at the same time to grab the cup of coffee on the table. In that split second, they move in perfect sync. Their faces end up inches apart, both frozen.

She inhales.

He looks at her lips, then back to her eyes.

But she sits back without a word.

She needed a lifeline, a reset. Something to shake off the way his nearness was messing with her brain.

She forced out a chuckle. "I can’t believe you ditched your girlfriend for this."

He shot her a quick look, his gaze sharpening as he processed her words. The heat in his eyes didn’t waver. "Why’s that so hard to believe?"

The question was soft. But it hit hard.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came. Her throat dried. Her heart thudded. She blinked, looked away, then back. "I just meant... this whole tutorial thing, it’s not necessary."

He leaned back, arm lazily thrown over the backrest behind her, voice cool and unbothered. "I didn’t ditch her. She made plans with your friends, not me."

He took a slow sip of his coffee, the steam curling around his face. His lips lingered on the rim of the mug—soft, deliberate, like he knew she was watching. When he finally pulled away, his tongue swept lazily across his bottom lip, catching a drop.

"And as for this being unnecessary," he said, eyes locked on hers, voice calm. "We wouldn’t have been here if you weren’t failing."

Her head snapped toward him. "I’m not failing. I just... resumed late."

He shrugged. "Excuses don’t change the scoreboard."

"God, you’re so full of yourself," Merlina snapped. "You really think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you?"

"I am better than everyone."

Merlina scoffed, the words coming out sharper than she intended. "You’re only in the S.T.C. because your dad’s some billionaire. Your daddy bought your spot like he buys everything else, must be nice having doors open for you."

Craig’s gaze shifted, locking onto hers, the light from the fire flickering in his eyes. Something dark flashed there.

Merlina faltered. The second she saw the look in his eyes, wounded, sharp, and burning, she was moved to take it back. Her lips parted, the apology right there.

But Craig was faster.

His gaze locked with hers, unflinching, his smirk was slow, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Poor you... whose father could never be one."

The words snapped back like a whip, leaving her stunned and silent, the apology swallowed whole. Her chest rose and fell, but she said nothing. She wanted to scream, or throw the coffee in his face. But her pride held her together.

So instead, through clenched teeth, she whispered, "If you’re that brilliant, why are you even here? Belford ? Why not Harvard? Yale?"

He looked at her, voice flat. "Because my father owns Belford."