Page 49 of A Coffee Away

“What’s going on, love? You’ve seemed off since we left Yabucoa.”

I was. I couldn’t stop thinking about his ex.

I huffed. “How can you tell?”

He took my hand. “Robbie, we’ve been together for six months. I already know your quirks and the slight change in your voice when you’re nervous. Also, your face gives you away. Tell me, what has you on edge?”

My stomach hardened, and my mind stirred out of control with that same question. Who was he? What had he done?

I inhaled the sea air and let it out slowly, willing the words to come out. A moment passed. It was now or never.

“I need to know…” I was at a loss.

Esteban bent so his face was level with mine. He softened his features, caressing my cheek with his thumb. “Tell me, love. What do you need to know?”

“About him,” I whispered.

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

I straightened, and he stepped back. “I want to know about the man you loved. The one your parents mentioned. Raúl told me it was serious, and you said it’s in the past, but I need to know. Tell me about the son of a bitch who hurt you.”

Esteban paled, and he clenched his fists by his sides. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I moved toward him. “Esteban, please. What if we meet? He was a part of your life whether you like it or not, and now that I’m here, I’d like to know what happened.”

Esteban put his hands up before I could get closer. “You won’t meet him. He moved to the States years ago.”

There was a pinch at my heart. “Please…”

“Pablo.” Pain entered Esteban’s eyes before he closed them. “Pablo was my first love.” He took a deep breath. “I was nineteen. I thought it was the real thing. He was the one who brought me into the BDSM lifestyle and was my first. I thought we’d have a life together, then…”

He turned away. “One night at the club, I was alone. Pablo had told me he’d be away because of work. A man approached me, picking a fight. He was going on about his husband and about me being a home-wrecker.” He shook his head. “I’d been Pablo’s lover all along. He was married and had a child with this man. I was hospitalized for a couple of days after his husband beat me to a pulp. Last thing I knew, Pablo had moved to the States with him and their son. I’ve never heard from him again.”

Adrenaline roared through me like a stampede, and different ways to hurt the son of a bitch flashed through my mind. How could he use Esteban like that?

I gritted my teeth and pushed back those violent thoughts. Esteban was hurting, and I needed to be here for him.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” I kissed his hand.

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry Mom brought him up. I never told them about what he did to me and said we drifted apart. They liked him, and I didn’t want to break their hearts. Now I just want to leave him in the past.”

The sadness in his voice drilled a hole in my chest.

He covered my cheek, then trailed his hand down the side of my neck and kneaded my tense muscles. “Forget about him. It’s only you and me now. Please.” He put his brow against mine. “Do this for me.”

The way he took care of me even when he was the one in pain shook me.

I hugged him tightly. A sob escaped him as I held him. Pain was a complicated emotion, and if he needed time to heal, I’d give it. He’d given me much more. Now it was my turn.

Punta Tuna Beach was deserted when night came. Esteban threw down a beach blanket, and we sat on it. I curled my toes in the sand, then closed my eyes.

Esteban wrapped his arm around me and kissed the side of my neck. It sent a shiver down my spine and directly to my cock. I let him guide me until my naked back hit the blanket.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Esteban said in that dark, commanding voice I loved so much.

I could feel more, smell more, hear more, taste more. I licked my lips, the saltiness of the sea breaking through my taste buds. Then his lips were on me, warm and velvety. His hand moved up my right leg to my knee, then along my thigh until…

I arched as he reached my groin, brushing his palm smoothly over my swimming trunks. My cock hardened as he leisurely stroked it in rhythm with the flicks of his tongue against mine.