Cryptic Curse, page 20
I smile.
I feel safe already.
As safe as I feel with Vinnie and Raven, I feel a hundred times safer with Hawk.
37
HAWK
“I’m no chef,” I say to Daniela. “This will be pretty crude compared to the kind of food you prepare, but it never fails me when I need to feel better.”
I assemble the ingredients for my grandmother’s famous macaroni and cheese. It was the only thing Nana Bellamy made herself. As the Cooper Steel heiress, she had personal chefs to cook for her. But when we came to visit, she made macaroni and cheese.
Nana taught me how to make it. I still know the recipe by heart.
She’s been gone for a while now, but I still have every step memorized. She lives through all of us. Just like what Ted said to me all those years ago.
Don’t ever forget that even after you’re gone, your starlight will shine on the people whose lives you’ve touched.
I squeeze my eyes shut and will the memory of Ted out of my head. He’s the last thing I need to think about right now.
I boil the pasta until it’s al dente and then strain it. I make a roux with butter and flour, letting it cook until it’s golden brown. I add warm milk slowly. Then comes the cheese, sharp cheddar and Monterey Jack melted into the sauce. I mix in the macaroni and transfer all of it into a baking dish. A quick sprinkle of seasoned breadcrumbs on top for crunch and then into the oven.
The kitchen fills with a comforting aroma that brings back memories of childhood days spent at Nana Bellamy’s grand house. I glance over at Daniela, who is watching me from the kitchen island, her eyes bright with interest.
She smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back. We may be standing on dangerous grounds with threats looming over us, but here in my kitchen, everything feels right.
When the macaroni and cheese is golden brown on top and bubbling at the edges, I take it out of the oven and set it on a trivet. “All right,” I say, turning to Daniela with a proud grin, “it’s not gourmet, but it’s hearty and full of love. Just like my Nana Bellamy used to make.”
Daniela smiles back at me, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t remember the last time I had homemade mac and cheese.”
I dish up two hefty portions onto plates. We sit down at the kitchen island and dig in. The cheese is gooey and creamy, the pasta cooked to perfection, and the breadcrumb topping adds just the right amount of crunch.
“Wow,” Daniela says after taking her first bite. “This is incredible.”
I grin. It’s one thing to have an ordinary person compliment your food, but to receive praise from someone like Daniela who’s studying to become a professional chef? That means a lot.
I rise. “I almost forgot.” I grab a bottle of Prosecco—which actually goes really well with mac and cheese—and open it. I pour two flutes and hand one to Daniela.
“To the end of your marriage,” I say.
She laughs. “That marriage saved me.”
“I know. But Vinnie is now free to marry his true love, my sister, and you…”
I stop. I’m not sure what to say.
I’m not going to ask her to marry me. At least not yet.
Fuck.
I can’t believe I’m even thinking in terms of “not yet.”
“But now you’re free to find your own true love,” I finish, raising my glass.
She mirrors my move and we clink our glasses together, sipping the bubbly liquid. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears, but she’s smiling too. It’s a beautiful sight.
“Thank you, Hawk,” she whispers after a while. “For everything.”
I reach across the table and gently sweep a lock of hair off her face. “I’d do anything for you, Daniela.”
She blushes but doesn’t look away. I hold her gaze for a moment longer before pulling away.
“Eat up,” I say, gesturing toward her plate, “before it gets cold.”
We continue eating in comfortable silence. The outside world with all its worries and dangers seems far away in this moment.
When we’re done, Daniela helps me clear the table and load the dishwasher.
“Don’t you have anyone to cook for you?” she asks.
I shrug. “I have a fulltime housekeeper who sometimes cooks. Sometimes I cook myself. It’s easy to throw a juicy cut of Bellamy beef on the grill, and we’re in Texas, so it’s always grilling weather.”
“But your mac and cheese,” she says. “You really take pride in making this.”
I chuckle. “Yes, it’s a guilty pleasure of mine.”
We tidy up the kitchen in silence, but it’s not an awkward silence. It’s peaceful, one of two people whose souls have connected, who don’t need to speak to enjoy each other’s company.
“Come on,” I say after we’ve finished cleaning up. “Let me show you the house.”
We walk through the spacious living area and I point out my favorite pieces of art. Daniela seems genuinely interested, her eyes wide and impressed as she takes in everything.
“The artwork is stunning,” she says. “Where did you find all of it?”
“These are all works by local painters. Whenever there’s an art fair in town, I go to it, try to buy a few originals. Do what I can to support the artists directly.”
She looks over three of the pieces in my living room. She points at the largest. “What’s this one called?”
“That one is Nebula in Bloom. Artist’s name is Lyla Tran.”
I watch her from across the room as she steps up to it—close, but not too close, like she’s approaching something alive. Her fingers hover just shy of the resin-sealed surface, where tiny wildflowers are trapped inside the swirling acrylic. The artist herself told me she pressed them fresh—local Texas bluebonnets. They’re embedded right into the paint. She then added gold leaf and layered it with resin until the whole thing looked like a dream drifting through space.
“This looks”—Daniela tilts her head, lips barely parted,—“alive.”
I nod. “That’s what she was going for. A nebula that feels more like a memory than a photograph.”
She doesn’t say anything right away. Just stares at it, the faint shape of a woman curled in the center catching her eye. Most people miss that. But of course Daniela doesn’t.
Then she moves on to an old-school woodcut, black ink on cream paper, mounted in a simple walnut frame. It’s an alternate version of our own night sky. The constellations are all invented. Wolves, stags, owls. Strange little creatures strung across an unfamiliar sky.
“That one is called Stellar Cartography Number Five. The artist, Ezra Lomax, has a whole series, each one based on constellations he’s made up. This one is animals, as you can see. He has one with ships, one with trees. You get the vibe.”
“So the artist just…invented these constellations?” She traces them with her finger.
I nod. “He said he wanted a star map that told stories instead of directions.”
She studies it in silence for a while, her face unreadable, and then says, almost too softly for me to catch, “They look like something ancient. Like if you knew the right words, you could bring them back.”
I have to keep my jaw from dropping. That exact thought crosses my mind every time I look at the Lomax.
She turns to the last one.
“The Sound of Saturn,” I say. “It might be my favorite.”
The fifth planet is crafted out of layered ceramic, its ring smooth and textured like bone, with streaks of fused glass trailing behind it in a wide arc, almost like a comet’s tail. When you look at it indirectly, it looks like the planet’s still spinning, still echoing.
Daniela steps to the side to catch the shimmer of the glass from a different angle. “Why Saturn?” she asks.
“That’s the one she said kept showing up in her dreams.”
“Who?”
“The artist. Juno Reyes.”
“Reyes?” Her eyes widen and the color drains from her face.
I rush to her side, wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Everything okay, honey?”
She doesn’t respond right away. Just stares.
“There was a…man in Colombia. One of my father’s friends. His last name was Reyes.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “Reyes is a common last name. I’m sure there’s no relation.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head a bit. Finally she opens them and looks up at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m sure you’re right.” She looks back at the paintings. “So… You like stars.”
I blink. I guess I never saw the connection between these three pieces. I just liked them all. They spoke to me. Made me feel…safe.
Just like Ted Tucker did.
Oh, shit.
I attempt to shrug nonchalantly. “Guess so.”
“Me, too.” She looks back to the artwork. “You have an eye for beauty.”
I glance at her then, appreciating her own unique beauty under the soft glow of the lights. “I like to surround myself with beautiful things.”
We end in my large recreation room—or my man cave, as I call it—and settle on the comfy leather couch.
I long to take her in my arms and kiss her deeply.
So when she looks at me, her eyes shining and her lips slightly parted, that’s exactly what I do.
38
DANIELA
Hawk’s lips touch mine. Gently at first, and then he slides his tongue into my mouth.
We’ve kissed before.
Hell, he gave me an orgasm with mere words last night.
But this kiss…
This kiss is leading somewhere.
Somewhere I desperately want to go.
Somewhere I’m desperately afraid to go.
Hawk’s phone starts vibrating loudly in his jeans pocket. It knocks me out of my thoughts and I break away with a jerk.
“You okay?” Hawk asks, his blue eyes etched with concern.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m good. It’s just… I’ve never…”
“Daniela…”
I eye his cell phone. “Do you want to answer that?”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, checks the caller ID, and rolls his eyes. “Nothing that can’t wait.” He returns his gaze to me. “But Daniela, if you want to wait to do this, I understand.”
I hold up a hand. “No. It’s not that I don’t want this. I do. I mean, I truly do.” I rub at my forehead. “It’s just… I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He laces his fingers through mine. “You could never disappoint me.”
“I may not be a virgin, but I’ve never… I’ve never done anything like this because I wanted to.”
He touches my cheek, trails a finger down my neck, leaving heat in its wake. “I wish I could change all of that for you.” Then he stands, rubs a hand over his face. “If I could crush every man who abused you with my bare hands, I’d do it in a minute and gladly spend my life in prison.”
I reach for him. “Please. Sit.”
He returns to his place next to me.
“I wouldn’t want you to do that,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t want you to spend your life in prison because of me.”
I know he means what he says, though. His brother spent time in prison, so Hawk no doubt knows what incarceration is like.
“I’d do it, though,” he says, “and I swear to God I’m not just saying that. I’d avenge any woman, Daniela, and especially you.”
His eyes are filled with a combination of rage and sorrow. And I believe him. I believe he would avenge me if he could.
“Your father was a monster,” he says. “I hope you know your worth, honey. I hope you know how much you mean to Vinnie, Raven, and Belinda.” He clears his throat. “How much you mean to me.”
I grab him then, bring his lips back to mine.
Again, the kiss is gentle at first, but then he invades my mouth, and I respond. I tangle my tongue with his, wanting, in this moment, to taste every part of him. I run my fingers through his gorgeous black hair, scrape them over his stubbled cheeks, grip his broad shoulders.
Am I ready for this?
Does it truly matter?
Because I want it.
I want it with this man. Because in a way, this will be my first time. And I want it to be with Hawk Bellamy.
Just as I think we’re about to cross that line, Hawk pulls back from me, his breath heavy and ragged.
“Daniela…” He casts me a tentative look. “If we’re going to do this… I want you to be entirely sure. I don’t want you to have any second thoughts.”
“I’m sure,” I tell him, my voice barely above a whisper.
He searches my face for a moment.
Is he looking for hesitation? Apprehension? Because there isn’t any.
With a nod, he stands and holds out his hand to me. I take it and let him pull me up from the couch and lead the way upstairs. Right as we reach the landing, his cell phone vibrates again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get that?” I ask. “Whoever is trying to reach you is certainly being persistent.”
He shakes his head, grinning. “It’s probably just spam, honey. Once these companies realize they’ve gotten a Bellamy number, they’re relentless.” He squeezes my hand and leads me up the final step of his staircase and into his bedroom.
His master bedroom is vast and luxurious, the large bed at its center looking all too inviting. He turns to me and gently cups both my cheeks. His kiss is soft yet passionate, each brush of his lips assuring me of his desire.
Slowly, Hawk unzips my dress and lets it pool at my feet. He steps back to admire me, his gaze taking in every inch of my body. I shiver under his scrutiny, but not from the chill of the air conditioning. The way he’s looking at me, as though I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, sends my nerves skittering.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, stepping closer to pull me into his arms again.
He glides his hands over me, tracing the curve of my waist and the swell of my hips. With each touch, he ignites a fire I’ve never felt before. It’s a desire born not out of obligation or fear, but out of genuine want.
He guides me toward the bed and gently lays me down. He undresses himself, revealing a sculpted body honed by years of ranch work. Perfect pectorals, bulging biceps, and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. He joins me on the bed, pressing his body against mine. His skin is warm and inviting as it makes contact with mine.
And his cock.
It’s huge.
It’s hard.
And it doesn’t frighten me.
“Hawk,” I whisper, digging my fingers into his gorgeous biceps.
“Yes, Daniela?” He leans over me, his blue eyes piercing into mine.
“I want you.” I voice the words with as much certainty as I feel.
His lips curl up and he strokes my cheek. “I want you too, Daniela.”
He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, trailing slow kisses down my neck and across my collarbone. His lips find mine again in another fiery kiss that leaves me breathless. I could get lost in this man, in his soft kisses and warm embrace.
His touch is firm but gentle as he explores me.
He stops to concentrate on my breasts.
The sensation is electrifying. I arch my back, pressing against him. He takes the hint, his mouth replacing his fingers. He swirls his tongue around my hardened nipple, sending waves of pleasure through me.
“Oh, Hawk,” I whimper.
He continues to lavish attention on my breasts while he drifts lower with one hand. He traces a path down the center of my stomach, making me shudder.
He stops at the edge of my underwear, looking up at me for approval.
I nod.
Slowly, he removes my underwear, his gaze never leaving mine.
He spreads my legs, touches me.
There.
“Hawk,” I gasp out, clutching at his broad shoulders.
This is nothing like the violating touches of the men in my past. This is different. This is Hawk. A man who cares only about my pleasure, not his.
Slowly, he makes his way down my body, planting soft kisses over my stomach and hips. He looks up at me with a reassuring smile, his eyes asking for my consent.
I nod.
His touch is delicate but confident. It’s clear he’s done this before, but not like those men who used me. Hawk is different. Every movement of his is for my enjoyment just as much as his own.
I gasp at the sensation, gripping onto the sheets beneath us. His touch sets my whole body aflame as he navigates his way around me expertly.
“Hawk,” I breathe out in a moan, arching into his touch. He looks up at me once more, his eyes full of desire and admiration.
“You okay?” he asks in a husky whisper.
“More than okay.”
Each movement is thoughtful, every kiss and touch designed to elicit pleasure. He slides his fingers between my legs, following with his tongue.
Oh, God…
I arch, grasp the linens, cry out, as he sucks at me. First gently. Then not so gently, like he’s feasting on me.
I’m so close. So close to where I was last night, when—
He stops.
Looks up at me from between my legs, his chin glistening.
“Hawk, please…”
“Oh, baby. Don’t you worry. But I’ve got to get inside you.”
He moves from the bed, slides on a condom, and then…
He thrusts into me.
I gasp.
He’s large. So large. But I’m wet and ready, and it’s nothing like the painful invasions of my past. It’s slow and gentle, filled with the kind of warmth and kindness I never thought I’d associate with this act.
Hawk takes his time, building a steady rhythm that has me gasping in pleasure. His eyes are locked on mine, filled with an intensity and devotion that takes my breath away. I wrap my legs around him, urging him deeper. His movements become more urgent, more passionate.
He quickens his pace, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting…
Until I gasp as an orgasm rips through me.
