Page 52 of Sighs By the Sea

“Grayson, I really do have to go,” she insists. Of course, I know that. I just don’t like it. I have a feeling that once she leaves, this magic between us will slip away. Having her here, in my bed, feels like a dream come true. I want it again, and again, and again.

“Take the day off,” I murmur, my eyes still closed. She wraps her arms around me, kissing me deeply before slipping out of bed.

As she stands, her naked body is displayed in all its glory. God, I’m in trouble. Maggie is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

When she turns to walk away, showcasing her perfect, heart-shaped ass, my body reacts instantly. But my eyes catch on a scar just below her ribcage on her back.

“What’s that?” I ask, getting up and slipping on a pair of underwear. I walk over to her as she searches through my drawers, my fingers tracing the faded pink line.

“Kidney transplant.”

“You had—?”

“No, I gave one. To my mom, but it didn’t take,” she says with a sad smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Now let me get dressed.” I scan her body, noticing a few more scars. As she pulls out a t-shirt, my fingers gently brush over the marks.

“Gray…” she says, her voice laced with frustration. My fingers trace the largest scar on her abdomen.

“This one?”

“A knife. A strung-out junkie cut me a few years ago when I was still a beat cop.” She lifts her knee. “Bike crash when I was fifteen. The neighborhood bully bet I couldn’t jump over a gravel pile, and he was right.” She laughs, and I smile. There’s so much I don’t know about her, and I’m desperate to learn.

"And these?" I ask, pointing to the most obvious pockmarks, gathered in a perfect circle that can't be natural.

She stiffens. "We don't talk about those." She tries to walk away, but I gently grasp her wrist.

"I thought you agreed you're mine?"

Her hand rubs her forehead as she sighs. "We did, but those are…I don't remember them." She tugs the shirt over her head, her movements jerky and agitated. I help her pull the fabric down, my heart aching at the hurt in her eyes.

"Maggie, I didn’t mean to push—"

"They’re burns from a cigarette. I’m told it was one of my dad’s old friends. He was drunk and thought it was funny. I don’t remember it and don’t want to. Okay?" Her voice is clipped.

What do you even say to that? The thought of her as a child, being tortured for some sick man's amusement, makes me nauseous. "Is he in jail?"

She tilts her head, crossing her arms. "What do you think?" No. I don’t think that bastard ever got what he deserved.

She sighs and closes her eyes. "Gray, everyone has shitty childhood stories. I’m lucky enough not to remember mine. But thinking about it, yeah, it sucks. Why do you think I became a cop? To keep shits like him from getting away with things. That’s my therapy, my catharsis. And right now, you’re keeping me from it."

I can’t listen to any more. The more she talks, the more upset she gets. I pull her into my arms. Her hand splays across my bare chest, right over my heart. It’s beating like a drum—fast, hard, hurting for her. When she relaxes into my grip, pressing her head where her hand was, I feel it slow, comforted by her closeness. "I love this sound," she says softly.

After a few minutes of silence, we pull apart, and she kisses my nose. "I need to go.” With a swift move, she slips from my grip and hurries to the hall bathroom. I head to my closet and pick out one of my nicer suits. I want to impress Maggie.

When I’m dressed, I find her in the bathroom, hunched over the sink, brushing her teeth in her jeans from yesterday and my shirt. But when I realize what she's using—my toothbrush—a part of me panics.

“Hey! That’s mine,” I say, hurrying forward, but she turns away, giggling.

“This is for both of our benefits, babe. I stink.”

“That’s disgusting, Maggie.” She spits out the foam and wipes her mouth, a coy smile on her beautiful lips.

“You go down on me, then make out with me for hours, and you’re worried about sharing a toothbrush?” She arches an eyebrow. I hate to admit it, but she has a point.

“It’s so… personal.”

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