Page 21 of Cursed to Love (Cursed to Love #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Friday, November 15
“O h, god. Oh, I…” Paige held onto the headboard as she rocked back and forth on top of Blake, grinding her hips down on him for friction.
“That’s it, baby, take your pleasure from me.”
“I need… ah… I’m so close.” Her orgasm hovered on the edge, so intense, but not ready to let go. “I need…” she pleaded, not quite knowing what she needed.
“I’ve got you.” Blake lifted his hips and thrust up into her. At the same time, he removed one hand from her hips and rubbed his thumb on her clit.
“Oh, god,” she called out as Blake increased his pressure and her orgasm exploded, the incredible sensations shredding her.
“Squeeze my cock, baby. Fuck.” Blake threw his head back as his orgasm ripped through him, pulling another smaller orgasm from her.
Her hands still gripping the headboard, she looked down at him between her arms. “Before… I told you…” she said, panting. “I didn’t want you… to fix me, but… I think you just… broke me.” She grinned at him.
Blake barked a laugh and pulled her down beside him. “Then I will have to fix you,” he said, wiggling his brows.
She closed her eyes and snuggled into him, breathing in his fresh, citrusy scent. “Tomorrow.”
“That’s a promise.” Blake lifted off the bed and went into the bathroom. She knew he was getting a warm washcloth because he always did, and she loved that.
When he tossed the cloth to the side, he pulled the covers up. He put one arm around her and spooned her back—another thing she loved.
“Mmmm. I love Fridays,” she said around a yawn.
Blake chuckled, his breath warm against her neck. “Me too.”
He’d worn her out tonight in the best possible way, and she’d lost track of the number of orgasms he’d given her. She smiled to herself, proud because she hadn’t been a slouch in the orgasm department either, giving him three.
Just as Paige felt sleep start to take her, Blake jerked behind her. His arm stiffened under her.
“The cur?—”
Paige pulled herself from his arms and turned around, sitting up onto her knees.
“Blake?” His eyes were closed like he might be asleep, but he didn’t look relaxed. He was still on his side from where he’d been spooned up against her back. She ran her hand along his shoulder and arm, the tension in his muscles obvious under her fingers.
He’d told her the curse took control of his body, but knowing it and seeing it were two different things. When he’d had the curse while in the kitchen, he’d looked like he was bracing his hands on the counter while waiting for his coffee. She hadn’t known that a curse controlled him.
She sat against the headboard and scooted as close as she could to Blake. He was too heavy for her to pull his upper body into her lap, but she needed to touch him. She ran her hand gently along his hair.
Blake told her that the episode in the strip mall had been his second, and she knew it had lasted just under ten minutes because she’d been freaking out for every one of them. The one at the coffee machine had been his ninth, but she’d left the room, so she didn’t know how long it had lasted or how many he’d had since. Blake didn’t tell her every time he got sucked into an episode, but she could tell from his moods that they were happening more often now. He tried his best to remain upbeat, but there were times he seemed sad or distracted.
She flicked her gaze to the clock on the nightstand and then back to Blake. Seven minutes already.
Time crawled as she alternated between glancing at the clock and watching Blake. Besides being stiff as a board, he didn’t seem to be in any pain, but she didn’t know if she’d be able to tell if he was.
Could this be just the beginning? What if they couldn’t stop them? Would they eventually keep Blake in a constant trance? She knew that both Jake and Cade were really worried. Both of them had taken to dropping in for a few minutes every couple of nights. A couple of times, Cade brought over some paperwork for Blake, saying he forgot to give it to him earlier, even though he would see him at the office the next day. Then there were the times Cade brought something for Emmie—a game or coloring supplies—saying Malcolm had been given them for his birthday, but he wasn’t old enough to use them yet.
Jake had used the paperwork excuse at least twice as well, and once he said that Chewie had wanted to see Emmie.
Not once had Blake called Cade and Jake out on the excuses. He understood their worry and Paige got the sense he was just as concerned but didn’t want to burden her with it.
At twenty-four minutes, Paige was starting to freak out. The time she watched him in the strip mall had been a cakewalk compared to this.
She was caressing his cheek when she felt him move. “Blake?”
He groaned and rolled onto his back.
“Blake? Talk to me, please,” she pleaded, hovering over him.
“I’m okay.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “How long?”
She glanced at the clock again. “Twenty-six minutes. I was—” She blinked as her eyes welled with tears, relieved that he was okay. For now.
Blake tugged her down next to him. She propped herself on her arm so she could see him to know he really was okay.
Using the sheet, he wiped her tears, then took her hand in his. “I’m okay. I promise.”
“I know. You were gone for so long. I?—”
He kissed her forehead. “I’m here.”
“Will you tell me what you saw?”
“You sure you want to know? It was tragic.”
His voice held so much sorrow, but she wanted to help in any way she could. If listening lessened his burden even a little, she would listen to him tell her what he saw as many times as needed.
“Yes, tell me.”
“It was 1704. I’m not sure exactly where, but the man was only a few generations removed from my original ancestor, Eamon.”
Blake shifted onto his side. “Roll over,” he said softly. “I need to hold you.”
Paige moved and settled her back against Blake’s chest as he once more cradled his arm under her and held her close. As much as she wanted to see his face, she knew what he needed was more important right then.
She ran her fingers along his forearm and closed her eyes.
As he spoke, she tried to picture exactly what he was describing.
The room held a large wooden bed, a chair, and a stool with a single candle flickering—the only light in the room.
A man lay on a bed on top of a quilt. Propped on one forearm, he ran his hand over the sweat-slicked hair of a woman lying beside him. She was buried beneath blankets, the edges pulled up to her chin.
The man leaned forward and placed a kiss on the woman’s forehead.
“If it is time, my love, you can let go. I—” The man choked on his words as he swallowed a sob.
He seemed to be gathering himself as he took a big breath and looked at the woman tenderly. “You have fought so hard, Bethany. I… will always… love you.” He paused between words as he drew in shuddering breaths for strength. “You are my life… and soul… seeing you this way for so many months…”
His words trailed off again, and his eyes welled with tears. Using his shoulder he wiped them away and leaned over once more, kissing Bethany’s forehead. “One day we will be together again, my love… You do not need to be strong for me anymore.”
A moment later the woman expelled a long breath as if her lungs were emptying of all oxygen.
The man fell over the woman; his body shook with his silent sobs.
Like he knew the year, Blake knew Bethany had been his wife and they’d fallen in love very young and had been married for ten years. Their lives hadn’t been easy, even with his family’s wealth.
They’d tried for many years to have children, but a year ago Bethany had become sick. They’d sought doctors, but all had said there was nothing they could do. Their lives had become a waiting game as they spent every moment they could together.
When the man finally lifted his head, he picked up his wife’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I will never—” he choked on a sob— “love another. That is my promise to you, my love.”
The breeze rushed through the room, blowing out the candle, and time moved on. Blake could see Thomas through the years, sometimes in the bedroom and other times in what looked like a large living area with a fireplace and a long wooden table. People came and went, talking to Thomas and taking care of him. He responded and interacted, but it seemed as if by rote.
Thomas aged—his hair turned gray, his skin wrinkled—but his posture was the most alarming change. His spine curved in as if there was no reason to ever look up again.
The film of Thomas’s life continued to run as he grew even older. His visitors dwindled year upon year as his grief enclosed him in a cocoon of his own suffering.
“I’m coming, Bethany,” Thomas whispered, the sound a low rasp, as he lay on the same bed where his wife had died. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath as his body went limp.
“That was it,” Blake said, his voice husky. “He died brokenhearted, like all the others.”
Paige rolled over to see Blake’s face. “He may have been heartbroken, but he loved her so much.”
“He died a lonely man because he chose not to love again.”
“Maybe he couldn’t.”
He frowned. “Couldn’t what?”
“Love someone else. Maybe Thomas had already loved the love of his life, and he didn’t want to love again.”
“So he chose to live alone.” Blake scoffed, as if the thought was ludicrous.
“It could be he didn’t look at it like that. We don’t know, but maybe he had no regrets.”
Blake fiddled with a curl of her hair as he looked at her. “Jake and I were talking about this yesterday. I thought they were all heartbroken, but Jake said, for a lot of them, it was their choice. They chose not to look for another love and instead held onto a love that was gone. You think it’s the opposite?”
“For Thomas. He had the love of his life, and she loved him back. It wasn’t either of their faults that their life together was cut short.”
“What about Martha and the sailor?”
“I agree with Jake about Martha. First, she chose not to tell George she loved him until it was too late. Although, if he didn’t feel the same about her, there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Then she chose not to try to find happiness with someone else.”
Paige thought back to the sailor and what Blake had said about him. “I think the sailor’s situation is a little bit different in that his girlfriend thought he was dead. But once she was married to his brother, instead of finding someone to love him, the sailor convinced himself he didn’t have any love left to give. Maybe if he had opened up to his wife, he could have loved her and been happy.”
Blake was quiet for a moment as he looked down at his fingers playing with her curl.
Paige wasn’t really sure what the curse was trying to tell him. Was the message saying to open his eyes now and grab onto love? Or was he destined to have the same fate as those he saw in the curse because he was too scared of the other option?
“Do you think it’s too late to stop it?” she whispered, worried if she said the words too loudly they could come true.
Blake lifted his eyes. “I don’t know.”
She cared for Blake deeply. It felt deeper than what they’d shared eight years ago.
Paige parted her lips, wanting to tell him she loved him. “Blake. I?—”
“No,” Blake said softly. He put his finger on her lips. “Don’t say the words, Paige. I don’t know if confessing love will break the curse or not. But…” His eyes held sadness. “If we say them and one of us doesn’t believe them, the curse probably won’t break anyway. Then we’ll be worse off because we hurt the other person with a lie.”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. Her brain told her Blake was right, that they couldn’t rush into this. She’d also made a promise to herself, as had he, that they wouldn’t fall for anyone again, that friendship would be enough. It was her heart that didn’t care about logic and whether he was right. Was this love? In her heart, she wanted to love him, whether she was ready or not. A shiver ran through her at the hopelessness of it all.
“You’re cold,” Blake said, mistaking the reason for her shiver. “Roll over again. Let me get you warm.”
Paige did as he asked, not correcting him on the reason for her shiver. He kissed her shoulder before tucking in the blankets around them both.
A few minutes later, she heard his breathing even out with sleep. He hadn’t reassured her that they would figure out a way to stop the curse, or that everything would be alright.
She held onto his arm that he’d wrapped around her. She needed his strength as an anchor, because neither of them had any idea what kind of storm they were in for if the curses increased.