Foolproof, page 15
Chapter Twenty-two
For Martine’s birthday, Ana Sofia took her, Elliot, and Cass out on her boat. Elliot had been surprised by the boat part, but she’d packed her bags and joined Cass and Martine at the dock. Ana Sofia’s boat was a seventy-six-foot yacht with three decks—a fly bridge, a main deck and a below deck that housed sleeping quarters for seven people. She moored it off an island, and they took the small dinghy back and forth to set up a bonfire.
Cass and Martine spread blankets around the bonfire as Ana Sofia set up the fanciest camping stove Elliot had ever seen. While the black beans and rice cooked, she laid out a blanket and cutting board with several cheeses, bread, and fruit. She opened jars of fig preserves, roasted tomatoes, olives, and hot peppers.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Elliot asked. Everyone else worked with the practiced ease of having done something similar several times before. She felt a little left out until Martine touched her, sending sparks down her spine that comforted rather than excited.
“You’re good. Have a seat.” Martine cracked open a portable bar and dug out four glasses. She opened another bag and pulled a thermos from it. She stirred and tasted it before she poured its contents into the glasses, garnishing with orange peels. Handing them around, she waited until everyone had one and then said, “Cheers.”
The gentle click of glass echoed across the dark water, and the warm smiles from Ana Sofia and Cass made her feel included. “Cheers.”
The cocktail hit the back of Elliot’s throat with a pleasant sweetness and then a gentle burn down to her stomach. “Mmm. What’s in this?”
Martine sat beside her and said, “El Presidente. Our own lightly aged rum, Pierre Ferrand dry curacao, Noilly Prat Extra Dry vermouth, and my homemade grenadine.”
Elliot assumed that list of ingredients made sense to someone who knew about cocktails. Nothing told her why it tasted the way it did, but when she thought about asking for details, she found she didn’t care. Let the mystery stand. “It tastes great.”
Martine leaned back on her elbows. “It’s one of my favorites.”
They passed around the cheese platter and talked about work and life in the Keys.
Something Ana Sofia said triggered Elliot to ask, “You own this island?”
Ana Sofia shrugged. “Pilar does.”
“Your mother?”
She pursed her lips. “Hmm.”
Cass plucked an olive off the cheese platter and popped it in their mouth. “There’s a history with this island. It used to have a lighthouse in the 1830s, but a hurricane washed it out to sea. Wreckers would moor here while waiting out storms. Then the sponge divers came and set up a seasonal camp. Just up the shore, you can still see the outlines of the buildings. During Prohibition, rum runners would meet Cuban boats out here before smuggling their rum into the US.”
Martine smiled. “I sometimes wonder if our great-grandfather was out there waiting for them.”
Ana Sofia fussed with the fire, creating a smaller side branch. “It could very well be. This island’s been in my family since the turn of the century. My abuela says her father used his connections in Cuba to bring rum into the country. We might not have been the first Cejas-Roberts partnership.”
Elliot loved the sense of place they all shared and envied their connection. She knew other Coasties who’d built lives for themselves off-base, setting up homes and putting down roots, sometimes leaving for assignments but always coming back home. Looking at Martine, she could see the allure of home, and an unexpected longing lodged in her throat.
Martine tilted her head and mouthed, “What?”
Caught in the moment, Elliot swallowed her feelings and smiled. “Nothing.”
“Are we ready?” Cass asked Ana Sofia, who nodded. They brought a beach grill and set it down on the coals. Together, they grilled oysters and lobsters while telling jokes and more stories. Their shared connection pulled her in and held her. Not once did Elliot feel like an outsider.
After dinner, she stretched out, looking for somewhere to put her head. Martine tapped her thigh, and she automatically scooched over. She put her head in Martine’s lap and stared into the night sky. Nothing beat stargazing out on the ocean. Even if she was on an island.
Martine glanced at her and then up. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
She hummed her agreement, luxuriating in Martine’s warmth and the drowsiness of a full belly. She breathed in and closed her eyes. The salt air, burning wood, and a faint bread and orange scent surrounded her.
Martine brushed her fingers through her hair. “Are you falling asleep on me?”
“Maybe.” Opening her eyes, Elliot focused on her. She’d never felt so close to her. The fire lit up a tiny scar on her chin. Elliot reached up and touched it. “How’d that happen?”
Martine covered her hand and smiled, a distant look on her face as if the memory replayed in her mind. “Fishhook. When I was ten, I tripped. I needed stitches and everything.”
Elliot winced. “Sounds painful.”
“It was.”
Something passed between them, a tenderness in Martine’s touch that she couldn’t name. Throughout the evening, Martine had touched all three of them, hanging off Cass at first, then lounging at Ana Sofia’s feet, and now she lounged with Elliot. This kind of intimacy was new but totally welcome.
“I’ve been saving this for you. Happy birthday.” Ana Sofia passed a bottle to her.
Martine leaned forward, and that citrusy smell grew stronger. “Oh, where you’d find it?”
“Jean-Claude owed me a favor.”
“That must have been some favor.”
Elliot turned on her side, and Martine held the bottle so she could read the label. The fire lit it from beyond, revealing a deep red-brown liquid. Appleton Estate, aged 50 years, Jamaica Independence Reserve, Jamaica Rum.
“This is the world’s oldest barrel-aged rum.” Martine cracked the seal and sniffed.
Elliot sat up, already missing Martine’s closeness. Ana Sofia handed her a glass, and Martine poured two fingers’ worth in her cup. Elliot waited until everyone had some and then took a tentative sip. For a second, she thought she was drinking bourbon, but then it changed, and she tasted a sweet and spicy blend of vanilla, cinnamon, and licorice. She swallowed, and the warmth traveled down her throat, leaving behind a taste that begged for more.
“Oh.”
Martine moaned beside her. “Mmm-hmm.”
Ana Sofia held her glass up and said, “Now, this is rum.”
“They grow their own sugarcane.” Martine shook her head, a wistful tone in her voice.
“Is that a good thing?” Elliot asked.
“Someday, I want to source all my molasses from the same farm. Maybe even dabble in cane juice fermentation. Make our own agricole.”
While Elliot understood the words, the specific terms escaped her. Martine wanted to control the process, and as someone who loved fresh ingredients, that meant something. Their conversation turned into a comparison of other rums, and Elliot listened intently.
“I don’t have a problem with adding sugar. People like what they like. Sometimes, I want a sweet rum. But at least be honest and label your product.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” Elliot asked.
Ana Sofia laughed, and Martine bumped her shoulder. “You’d think. Rum is a pretty big unregulated category that’s spread across several countries. With their own laws.”
“I take it you don’t add sugar to your rum,” Elliot said.
“Only when we’re making cocktails.”
They talked late into the night discussing food and drink for most of it. As the night wore on, Elliot saw Martine’s guard drop. At first, she thought it was the alcohol lowering her inhibitions, but it was deeper than that. Something about the way the three of them talked and laughed, a relaxed shorthand communication between them. This was Martine’s home, these two people and their world. And for that evening, it included her.
Elliot passed on the third drink and stifled a yawn.
Martine whispered, “Did you want to head back?”
“To the boat?” She didn’t think Ana Sofia was up to navigating in the dark. She could probably handle the dingy, but mixing water, liquor, and sleepiness was stupid.
Martine grinned and glanced at her two friends wrapped in a blanket and talking quietly among themselves. “Unless you want to camp out here. It might get cold.”
“Then we’ll cuddle, but I think we should sleep it off here.” She wasn’t letting any of them near the water in this state.
Martine stood. “Well, I’m going to pee. I’ll be right back.”
Taking that as a yes, Elliot grabbed another blanket and stoked the fire a bit. Neither Cass nor Ana Sofia looked their way when Martine returned and snuggled next to her. Elliot tucked them in, and they lay facing each other, so close she could smell the rum on Martine’s breath. She wished they were alone so she could kiss her.
Across from them, Ana Sofia and Cass huddled together, whispering intently. Ana Sofia kept shaking her head at whatever Cass was saying.
“What’s the deal with them?” Elliot whispered.
Martine glanced over. “They have this push-pull thing. Always have. Whenever one of them gets close, the other runs away.”
“Why do they do it?”
Martine took a deep breath. “When I first met Ana Sofia, Cass had a huge crush on her. But Ana Sofia didn’t notice them until college. They dated then. Cass even offered to move to New York when Ana Sofia went to law school. But Ana Sofia didn’t want to hold Cass back, so she broke it off. Cass was devastated. When she came back for good, Cass had moved on.”
“And now?” She stole another look, and they’d moved on to kissing. Elliot huddled closer to give them more privacy.
Martine rubbed her shoulder. “I think they still love each other. A lot. But Cass needs to move on, and they know it. And Ana Sofia is not ready to let go. What about you? Any first loves you couldn’t let go?”
You came to mind, but that wasn’t true. She didn’t love Martine, at least not that way. And especially not back then. She hadn’t even known who she was when they’d first met. “No.”
“Me neither. Guess that makes us the last of the un-romantics.”
“Guess so.” Except everything about this night felt romantic. And if a tiny part of her heart hurt after Martine’s comment, she didn’t mind because she’d seen another side of Martine and wouldn’t trade that for all the flowery words in the world.
Martine yawned and turned over. “Good night.”
Elliot closed her eyes and breathed her in. “Good night.”
* * *
Martine got up in the middle of the night to pee again and added more wood to the fire before crawling back under the covers. Across the way, Ana Sofia lay sprawled across Cass’s chest, totally asleep.
Martine snuggled into the smaller spoon slot, adjusting her ass to fit just so.
Elliot pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, her voice low, ragged, and full of sex. “I like that.”
She wiggled a little more. “Like this?”
Elliot clutched her hips and rubbed against her ass. “Yes.”
Her breath ghosted along Martine’s skin, giving her goose bumps. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head and whispered, “That feels nice.”
Elliot palmed her breasts, squeezing and circling her nipples. The gentle rubbing dulled her senses. Elliot had such wonderful hands, so supple and strong. The way she touched, so tender and firm.
Martine gasped as a sharp pinch brought her back into focus.
Elliot whispered in her ear. “Shh. Don’t make any noise.”
And then Elliot tangled their legs together, opening Martine up and pinning her in place. Martine offered no resistance. She let Elliot control the pace and the tempo as her entire world narrowed to the circle of Elliot’s arms.
She bit her lip to keep from moaning as Elliot slid under her shirt, lingering on the curve of her hip and the swell of her stomach before moving lower. She shuddered as Elliot skimmed along her labia, parting her folds, and slipping through her wetness to circle her opening. She suppressed a gasp and trembled, undulating as Elliot touched her clit.
Elliot played with her, building up the intensity with each stroke before bringing her back down. Again and again, Elliot brought her to the edge only to ease away, but each escalation took less and less time to bring her to the brink again. When she finally came, she shuddered and bucked while Elliot cradled her in her arms.
Elliot soothed her with kisses at her temple and cheek and words she’d couldn’t follow. But she didn’t need to hear them. She knew the feeling that they shared was love, but she was too tired and too relaxed to freak out.
Chapter Twenty-three
With no coffee, Martine’s will to have breakfast on the beach evaporated. They packed and headed to the boat. Elliot and Cass crowded into the galley and made breakfast there. Ana Sofia made grapefruit-Campari drinks, Cass made toast and bacon, and Elliot poached eggs.
Elliot moved with ease among Martine’s friends. Something had changed, and Martine couldn’t stop thinking about it. They’d been doing their own push-pull dance for a while, and she’d been content to let it ride. After last night, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.
“Do either of you need to get back? We’re thinking of heading out to the Dry Tortugas. Do some snorkeling. Do you want to come?” Cass passed the bacon while Ana Sofia doled out the eggs.
Seven islands seventy miles to the west of Key West, the Dry Tortugas offered untouched coral reefs and various shipwrecks, along with gorgeous tropical islands. It had been years since she’d gone. Another romantic destination on their unexpectedly romantic getaway. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but one look at Elliot’s hopeful expression and her reluctance crumbled. “Sure.”
After breakfast, Martine washed the dishes, and Elliot volunteered to help. But it quickly became obvious that Elliot had no desire to actually help. Each lingering touch sent electric shocks down Martine’s spine. With Ana Sofia and Cass coming in and out of the room, her frustration and arousal grew. Exasperated, she finally spun around and pinned Elliot in the corner.
Elliot’s eyes sparkled as if she’d been hoping for this move for some time.
Bracing her hands on either side of Elliot, Martine leaned in. “If you keep this up…”
Elliot met her halfway. All the pent-up energy from the morning erupted into a ferocious, open-mouthed kiss. Martine struggled to keep her balance while Elliot moved her tongue in the most delicious twists and turns.
Pulling back, Martine brushed kisses along her jawline. But Ana Sofia asked a question as she walked into the dining area, and Elliot pecked Martine on the cheek and spun away.
The entire day continued from there, with each of them teasing and testing until they jammed themselves into a tight corner and kissed hungrily. But they were never alone for long. And when they were underwater by themselves, they were both seasoned enough to stop the game for safety reasons.
They ate a late lunch from Ana Sofia’s well-stocked fridge and pantry. She went topside to the helm while Cass went below to sleep. Alone for the first time in hours, and still buzzing from all that sexual energy, Martine leaned over Elliot’s shoulder and kissed her neck. “I’m going to take a shower. Get some of the salt off.”
Elliot hummed and tilted her head.
Martine took advantage of the move to kiss along the curve and up to her ear. “Join me?”
Elliot pulled her onto her lap and kissed her. She slipped her hands in Martine’s shirt and held her close.
Martine twirled out of reach and extended a hand. Elliot had kept her aroused all day, and she needed to touch her. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Elliot jumped awake when Ana Sofia’s voice came through the speakers above their heads, the sound so close that Elliot thought she was in the room. “Hey, do you two want to join us for dinner at Santiago’s Bodega? We dock in twenty minutes.”
Martine rolled over and snuggled close, her damp curls brushing against Elliot’s knee. Elliot shifted closer, her thigh coming to rest between Martine’s legs. Martine hummed and kissed along her neck.
“Do you think she knows?” Even after spending an intimate weekend with Ana Sofia and Cass, Elliot didn’t know them well enough to share her sex life. She hadn’t sorted out her own feelings yet. She didn’t need the added stress of Martine’s business partner and close friend knowing all about them.
“No. She broadcasts that into all the rooms. Although she might have heard us.” Martine winced.
Elliot glanced up. They’d been loud but not that loud. The boat moved at a pretty fast pace, and the wind alone drowned out all sound. “From two decks above? No.”
Martine raised her head and said, “Well? Any dinner plans?”
“Not tonight.” She leaned in and kissed along Martine’s ribs.
“I need to take another shower. I smell like sex.”
“You also taste like sex.” And she liked that taste.
Martine inhaled sharply while Elliot continued kissing along her hip. She didn’t want her to get up. If she got up, then this moment, this weekend, this closeness might end.
“El…”
The way Martine shortened her name turned her on even more. She shifted again and kissed along Martine’s shoulder blades. Martine tilted her head and made no move to rise. Elliot slipped a hand between her legs, enjoying the sticky wetness while she kissed a line up her neck. “We have time, don’t we?”
Martine turned in her arms and shoved her backward. “Yes. But it’ll have to be fast.”
