Cryptic Curse, page 14
“What are you guys playing?” I ask.
“Just War,” Daniela says. “Belinda and I like to play it sometimes.”
“Would you like to play a game with us?” Belinda asks.
“Sure.”
“Great!” Belinda taps on her chin. “How about Monopoly?”
Monopoly.
Just hearing the word brings back memories I don’t need right now.
I haven’t played Monopoly since…
No, not going to go there. Not right now when I have Daniela and Belinda to think of.
“Since you’ve already got a deck of cards out,” I say, “how about some good old-fashioned Texas Hold’em?”
Belinda’s eyes go wide at that. “Oh my God, yes. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play poker.”
Daniela bites her lip. “I’m not sure how Vinnie would feel about it if we taught you how to play poker.”
“It’s not like we’re going to play for money,” I say.
Belinda’s face falls. “Then where’s the fun?”
“Okay,” I say. “We can play for snacks. I’m sure there’s something in the kitchen.”
Daniela relents. “I suppose that does sound kind of fun. Come on, Belinda. And you too, Hawk. We can play at the kitchen table.”
We head down the hallway toward the main part of the house and into the giant kitchen.
Belinda goes into the pantry and brings out a big tub of cheese balls. “My favorite,” she says.
“Cheese balls and ice cream,” Daniela says smiling. “This girl can’t get enough of either.”
“Because I was never allowed to have them…”
She doesn’t finish, and Daniela smiles and brings the cheese balls over to the table. “All right, now let’s play.” She hands the deck to me. “Hawk, you shuffle.”
I give the cards a shuffle and then hand them to Belinda on my left. “You cut the deck, Belinda.”
Belinda wrinkles her forehead. “And that means…what exactly?”
Daniela grins as she settles into her seat. “It just means you take the cards, split the pile somewhere in the middle, and put the bottom half on top. Like this.” She reaches over and demonstrates. “It keeps things fair.”
Belinda nods seriously, like she’s just been entrusted with a sacred duty. “Okay. Got it.” She cuts the deck and hands the stack back to me.
I give her a nod. “Perfect cut. You’re officially ready for Vegas.”
She giggles, her cheeks turning pink. “Do they play for cheese balls in Vegas?”
Daniela laughs. “Only at the really classy tables.”
We all chuckle, and I start dealing the cards, two to each player. Belinda scoops up hers like she’s guarding national secrets.
“I hope I win this hand,” she mutters.
Daniela arches a brow. “What are you going to do with all your winnings?”
Belinda doesn’t miss a beat. “Build a cheese ball empire.” She pops one in her mouth and grins like she’s already conquered the world.
I deal the flop—seven of spades, king of diamonds, ace of clubs—and glance up just in time to catch Daniela licking orange dust from her fingertips.
She’s not trying to be seductive. That’s the worst part. She’s just distracted, focused on the cards, absentminded as she swipes her thumb across her bottom lip and sucks the cheese powder off with a soft pop.
And I’m gone.
My pulse kicks up, and I look away fast, hoping Belinda doesn’t notice the heat creeping up my neck.
“You’re up, Daniela,” I say, keeping my voice even.
She lifts her eyes from the cards. “Check.”
Belinda checks too, proud of herself for remembering the move. I toss in a single chip—well, one cheese ball—and say, “One to see the turn.”
Daniela smirks. “Big spender.”
I grin. “I like to live dangerously.”
She scoffs, but it’s playful, and she looks at me a beat too long before she leans forward and reaches into the bowl again. Her fingers graze mine as she pulls one out, and yeah—I feel it. That spark. That low hum under my skin like I’ve grabbed a live wire.
Her fingers are covered again in that neon orange dust. She wipes them on a napkin this time, but not fast enough to stop the thought from sliding through my head.
I want to lick it off.
Every last bit.
Slowly.
I shift in my seat, clearing my throat like it’ll help.
It doesn’t.
Daniela raises a brow. “You good?”
“Fine,” I lie. “Just strategizing.”
“Uh huh,” she says.
I deal the turn card—queen of hearts. Inside, my thoughts are anything but strategic now.
Cheese balls. Freaking cheese balls.
Thank God Belinda is here, or I’d clear this table and fuck Daniela silly.
26
DANIELA
Hawk’s trying so hard to keep it together, but I see the heat in his eyes every time I lick my fingers. The man looks at me like I’m the last meal he’ll ever eat—and I don’t think he’s thinking about the cheese balls.
Which, by the way, Belinda is hoarding like they’re gold coins.
She just won her fifth hand in a row with a smug little grin, stacking cheese balls into a lopsided pyramid. I pretend to be upset, but honestly? I love watching her win. She’s eleven, fierce, and sharp as hell.
“All right,” I say, tossing my cards down. “This is getting out of hand. I think you’re cheating.”
Belinda gasps. “I would never! It’s just beginner’s luck.”
She sticks out her tongue and flicks a cheese ball at me. It bounces off my shoulder and rolls under Hawk’s chair. He doesn’t flinch. Just watches us with that low-burning stare like he’s soaking it all in. Like this—me, Belinda, laughter in the air—brings him an inner sense of peace.
A door creaks open behind us, and we all look up. Natalie, Belinda’s nanny, steps into the room, arms crossed.
“Belinda. It’s past your bedtime.”
Belinda groans, slumping against the table. “But I just became the Cheese Ball Queen.”
Natalie doesn’t blink. “Even queens needs their beauty sleep.”
Belinda pouts and grabs a handful of her winnings. “Can I at least take some to bed?”
I smile and nod. “Go ahead. But don’t tell Vinnie and Raven I let you.”
She scurries over, throws her arms around me in a quick hug, and then darts past Natalie with a smirk and a napkin full of orange contraband.
I look at Hawk.
His eyes haven’t left me.
“I guess that’s the game, then,” Hawk says.
I nod. “I guess so.”
He crosses his arms. “Except…I need to put my clothes in the dryer.”
Right. I forgot about his clothes. Which means he’s staying a while longer.
And that’s fine with me.
“We could…”
“What?” he asks.
“We could wait over in my wing of the house,” I say. “We can bring your wet clothes and put them in my dryer.”
“You have your own dryer?”
“Yeah. I don’t use it a lot. The staff does my laundry.”
He chuckles lightly. “Yeah, I get it. I grew up a Bellamy. We had staff for everything.”
“Yet your mom can pull together a huge dinner by herself?”
“She had a little help from you.”
My cheeks warm. “I didn’t do much.”
He shakes his head. “You did a lot. But yeah, my mom was always hands-on as a wife.”
“And as a mother?” I ask.
He withdraws his hand sharply, looks down.
“Hawk?” I tip his chin up, bring his eyes to mine.
And he looks like I just punched him in the gut.
27
HAWK
Fuck.
Kick to my stomach.
She never had to worry about me.
That’s what Mom always said, like it was praise. Like being the one who didn’t get caught drinking or ditching class, who held his breath during every argument just to keep the peace—like that made me easy to forget.
I was the good one. The reliable one. The one who didn’t make waves.
So she didn’t look at me the way she looked at the others. Not with pride, not with concern—just…not at all. Falcon did everything first and got noticed. Eagle did everything last and got noticed. I followed the rules. I got straight A’s. I tucked in my shirt and said thank you and never once raised my voice.
And it never felt like enough.
She’d brag about the others. One’s a fighter, she’d say. The other’s sensitive. She called them passionate. Complicated. And me?
“He’s always fine.”
I was always fine. Even when I wasn’t.
I remember winning an award in high school—statewide, a big deal. She clapped politely and then left early to pick up Eagle from soccer practice.
Sometimes I wonder if I had messed up more, if I’d been harder to love, would she have tried harder to see me?
But I didn’t. I never gave her a reason to worry.
And I guess that’s the problem.
“She’s a good mom,” I say.
It’s not a lie.
She is a good mother.
But she sees only what she wants to see.
Which doesn’t include me, apparently.
“So…my place?” she asks.
Her place. Just Daniela and me. Alone. Waiting for my clothes to dry.
Not the best idea.
“Sure,” I say.
Or rather, my cock says.
She smiles as we walk to the laundry room, grab my damp clothes out of the washer, and then walk to the door that leads to her mini apartment.
She takes the clothes from me and heads to a tiny alcove behind a closet door. She opens it, puts my clothes in the dryer, and starts the machine. She turns, and her dark eyes are heavy-lidded and her full lips slightly parted.
“You keep looking at me like that,” I say, leaning back against the couch, “and I’m going to forget how patient I promised I’d be.”
She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease. Just folds her arms and stares at the floor.
“I’m not trying to tease,” she says finally. “I’m trying not to mess this up.”
I tilt my head. “You think touching me would mess this up?”
She lifts her gaze to mine. There’s heat there, yeah—but it’s tangled up in guilt and fear and something…quieter. Sadder.
She sighs. “I think if I let myself want this too much right now, I won’t think clearly. And I need to think clearly.”
I nod, even though it hurts. Even though I’ve memorized the way she looks when her fingers twitch like she wants to reach for me but doesn’t. “Because of the divorce.”
She nods. “Because I’m still technically married. Because of my past, I want to at least do marriage right.”
“You know Vinnie isn’t being faithful to you, right?” I say to her once more. “As much as I don’t like to think about it, I’m sure he and my sister are fucking like bunnies.”
“Yeah, I know. And I don’t care. This is something I need to do for me. Not because I want to. Because I have to. For now. Just until the marriage is dissolved.”
I reach out, not to pull her closer, just to brush my fingers against hers—light, careful. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She swallows. “You say that now,” she says, her voice cracking a little.
“And I’ll keep saying it tomorrow.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you.”
“I know,” I whisper. “That’s what makes this the hardest.”
She lets out a sigh. “I don’t know how to be with someone like you, anyway.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Someone like me?”
She frowns. “Someone who isn’t forcing me to do things. Or making me lie there while he does things. Or—”
Her words pierce me like a knife.
“Stop.” I gesture.
I can’t stand the thought of her ever being in those situations.
Yet still I want her.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Part of me needs a release,” she says. “Needs to feel close to someone in that way. In a way I never have before with physical intimacy.”
“You’re frightened.”
She shakes her head, crosses her arms. “Not exactly. I learned to accept my life for what it was. Yeah, it was against my will. And yeah, sometimes there was pain. But I knew no permanent damage would be done. At least not by those men. My father would have had them killed.”
“I don’t get it.” I shake my head. “He whored you out, but he drew the line at having you killed. His morals were totally fucked up.”
She scoffs. “You think?”
“He is—or was—an enigma, for sure,” I say. “And by enigma, I mean ruthless degenerate.”
She smiles a little. “I do want to be with you, Hawk.”
I sear my gaze into hers. “I want to be with you, too. Your age should frighten me. I mean, there are eleven years between us, and you’re barely an adult.”
“The age of consent in Colombia is fourteen,” she says.
I shake my head again. “That’s fucked up.”
“It’s what I know. Though I never actually consented to any of it.”
“Damn, Daniela.”
“But the thing is, Hawk.” She sighs. “I need…something.”
I smile at her, take her hand, and rub circles into her palm with my thumb. “What if I told you I could make you come without touching you?”
28
DANIELA
What if I told you I could make you come without touching you?
Hawk’s words float in my brain.
He’s kidding, right? He can’t do that.
I’m not sure I’ve ever had an orgasm.
I’ve masturbated, and I’ve enjoyed it.
But that all-encompassing feeling of rapture I’ve heard so much about? I’m not sure it happened.
“Is that a challenge?” I ask, swallowing hard, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
Hawk leans back on the couch, his gaze locked on mine. There’s a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there before. A challenge, yes. But also something deeper, more complicated.
His lips curl into a grin. “Maybe.”
I exhale slowly, processing his words, trying to wrap my head around what he’s proposing. “How would that even work?”
“Trust me,” he says simply.
My heart skips a beat.
Trust. Have I truly ever trusted anyone?
It’s a simple word with serious implications.
I want to trust Hawk.
“Okay,” I whisper.
His eyes widen slightly as if he hadn’t expected me to agree. But he quickly regains composure.
“All right.” Hawk clears his throat. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. “Okay. Lie down on the couch.”
I blink at him, but I do as he says. He kneels next to me, his gaze never leaving mine as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.
I obey again, shutting out the light and focusing solely on the sound of his voice and the warmth radiating from his body.
“Now,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, “imagine yourself somewhere peaceful, somewhere safe. Picture it in your mind.”
I nod, picturing a small sandy beach. The waves are calm, rolling gently onto the pristine shore. “A beach,” I say softly.
“Good,” he says. “Now picture yourself there. The wind is blowing through your hair, the sun is warm on your skin.”
I imagine it—the heat of the sun, the slight chill of the wind. It feels real, so real I swear I can smell the salty sea air.
He stays quiet for a moment, letting me settle into the imagery. Then his voice comes again, low and soothing.
“Are you alone on this beach?” he asks.
I think about it and then shake my head. He doesn’t need to ask who’s with me. He already knows.
“No.”
“What’s happening?”
“We’re just walking,” I tell him, picturing Hawk’s hand in mine as we stroll along the water’s edge.
“Good. Now lie down on a soft blanket that I’ve spread out.”
“Okay. I’m lying down.” Not too difficult since I’m lying on the couch.
“Good.” He breathes out. “Now, imagine… Imagine my hands near your body, but not touching your skin. Instead, they’re hovering just above you, generating a certain warmth that’s tantalizing and comforting at the same time.”
His words coax heat into my veins, his voice a soft caress against my ears. I can almost feel the phantom touch of his hands above me, moving slowly, gently exploring.
“Can you feel it?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper back.
“Unbutton your blouse, Daniela. Keep your eyes closed.”
Instinct takes over as I fumble with the white buttons to my silky blouse. When I’m done, the silk falls away from me. My nipples are already hard, and I feel them protruding against the fabric of my bra.
“Skim your fingers over your nipples,” Hawk says. “Imagine it’s me.”
My fingers tremble as they brush against the thin fabric of my bra, my touch light and uncertain. Warmth coils in my belly, tightening with each passing second.
“Good,” he whispers, his voice so close now that I can feel his breath on my skin. “Now, imagine me touching you there. Imagine my thumb brushing over your nipple through your bra.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought, heat pooling between my legs. I let out a soft gasp as I dare to apply a little more pressure.
“You’re doing great, Daniela,” he says. “Now imagine me unclasping your bra and sliding it off your shoulders.”
