Page 48 of A Coffee Away

Esteban snaked his arm around me and pulled me into him until my back was against his chest. He kissed the back of my neck. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, sending goosebumps all over my left arm. He breathed me in and swiped his tongue along the curve of my ear.

I moaned and let my head fall back. Seagulls flew overhead, their gentle flight always a sight to behold. I closed my eyes, letting the gentle lapping of the sea blend with the laughter of the visitors. It was beautiful.

“Everything is set, love. Paint to your pleasure.” Esteban stepped around me and took off his shirt.

His chiseled body never ceased to impress me. It was made in heaven. And his legs. God, not many men could have those. Carved. Strong. Perfectly proportioned. All power and grace wrapped in a devilishly handsome and sexy specimen. He blinked and ran to the beach.

Fuck. That ass was something else. I bit my lip, then turned around to find my canvas already set in its tripod, my paint and brushes by its side.

We’d come into this kind of routine lately. Esteban always packed my stuff for long trips and stopped wherever my inspiration hit.

I brushed stroke after stroke of vibrant life onto the canvas. Hours passed as I painted.

Esteban came by every so often with something for me to eat, and I gladly accepted. Twice he’d shown up with an ice‑cold Medalla and an alcapurria, then headed back to the water to swim.

As I completed my painting, the last rays of sunlight hit the shore. Esteban was there, always present, a silhouette immortalized on my canvas.

Free and smiling.

God, I loved him.

Chapter 11: The Unmentionable

Robbie

Esteban’s ex had taken over my mind these last few weeks.

After we visited Javi and Gina, the conversation never came up, and I, cowardly as fuck, hadn’t had the balls to ask him about it.

A single question plagued my mind—why the fuck did they break up? Their relationship was serious enough for Esteban to take him to meet his parents, but he wouldn’t bring it up.

“Here, love.” Esteban passed me the mayoketchup.

We were eating at El Nuevo Horizonte in Yabucoa, a beautiful spot we found while chinchorreando with Eva, Steph, Miguel, and Raúl a couple of weeks ago. Every month we picked an area of the island and visited different spots to eat and drink. It was our way of catching up.

From up here, the sea stretched out in blues and greens, endless and alive. My existence seemed so small when faced with such beauty.

My breath caught as a humpback leaped in the distance. “Baby, look!”

I jumped up and ran to the balcony, pointing toward the magnificent whale. Esteban was there in a second with his camera. We’d been waiting for this moment.

Click. Click.

“God. What a sight.” Esteban stood by my side, his elbow brushing mine as we stared into the distance.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and squeezed. “C’mon, love.”

I bit into a bolita de mero and moaned. The taste of the sea in my mouth was exquisite.

Esteban dipped his sorullito in the mayoketchup. “I like it here.” He gazed at the horizon. “I feel at peace.”

Smiling, I nodded. “Me too. It feels…” I glimpsed his blue eyes as he lost himself in the view. “Magical.”

The Maunabo lighthouse was on top of a small hill by the beach. The sand was cool on my bare feet. The sky was filled with soft pinks that followed the sun as it retreated into its slumber.

The waves hit the rocky shore in a rhythm that dulled my mind into a sense of awareness in this vast space. It was always like this with the sea and me.

Esteban stepped in front of me as I was about to touch the water. Walking by the beach had become our thing.