Page 41 of Sighs By the Sea

"Exactly. Just repress, and it goes away, right?" she laughs. Like any of this is funny. I don't return the amusement. Thinking of her being anything less than perfectly cared for is breaking my heart a little. "But I had Jade for a while. Hanging out with her was always fun. When our parents had their falling out, I was devastated."

"Jade is…?" Our exit is ahead, and I put my blinker on before getting over into that lane.

"My cousin. We were thick as thieves for a while. Of course, my dad ruined that. His brother, her dad, wrote us off after that." She stares out the window again, and I swear I see a tear fall. I can't take the sight of her upset. My hand lowers off the steering wheel and slinks over to her thigh. As soon as it touches, her hand reaches over and takes mine, twining our fingers together. I feel her squeeze hard before she speaks again. "We talk now, though. She's the one that owns the adult arcade."

"I'd love to see that. Does adult mean, uh, naughty things?" I hate that my cheeks heat at the word naughty. Like I'm some sort of teenage boy caught with his hand on a dirty magazine.

She barks out a loud laugh, her voice filled with mirth as she says, "No, Grayson. It just means normal arcade games for adults with beer. Nothing naughty about it."

We've reached the Embarcadero parking lot, and I pull into a spot. I shut the car off and turn in my seat. We stare at each other for a few blinks. "About what you said to my son," I start. She swallows and nods for me to continue. "As much as I would love to have you over when he's back—"

"I accept. End of discussion," she says with a perky smile. I swear her grip on my hand tightens. I open my mouth to tell her it's not a good idea. Even when things are calmed down, I am still a dangerous person to be around. Especially for a police officer.

Her face registers some hurt as she takes in my expression, but she quickly shakes her head. "I’m a detective, Grayson. I’m not afraid."

I reach over and touch her chin. "You should be, Maggie. You should run far away from me and my fucked-up life."

Her breathing grows shallower. "Why do you care? I’m just a cop."

I smile, a sad realization washing over me. I care deeply for Maggie. In ways I've never let myself imagine were possible again. Picturing her in my life, in my future, it's special. The kind of connection I'd always wished for with my wife. "You’re not just a cop to me."

"What am I?" she asks. I almost make a joke about her being in the middle of an existential crisis. Now's not the time for my ill-placed sense of humor.

I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss the back of her knuckles, never breaking eye contact. "You're what comes after a hurricane," I say softly and kiss her next knuckle. "The calm and breeze, kissing away the memory of destruction." Another peck on her hand. "The colors that break out when the world has only had gray for days."

Her breathing is shaky as she absorbs my corny lines. But they weren't lines at all. I feel those things deep within me and now that they're out there, I don't even wish I could take them back.

For a split second, her eyes widen. Then she lunges across the center console, colliding her mouth with mine.

A tiny whimper of shock works through me before I throw my hands around her. With a single move, I release her ponytail, and her auburn hair spills over us. Her palms land on my chest, but other than fingers tangling into her gorgeous locks, I remain still, afraid to move and break the moment. All the reasons I should push her away disappear; I can only think of her. How she smells, that damn intoxicating scent of citrus, or how her swollen lips feel on mine.

But Maggie has other plans. With fumbling movements, she unlatches her seatbelt and shoves it away. With all the grace of being in a tiny car, Maggie fumbles in her seat, then grips onto the steering wheel to climb over the middle.

Realizing what she's doing, I push the button to scoot the chair back. The motor whirs, agonizingly slow, but finally, Maggie slots into my lap like she belongs there.

Her hands land on either side of my face, and she stares into my eyes. "That's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever heard, Grayson." I chuckle and kiss her neck, sucking on the skin. "Then I guess…" I palm her breasts and let out a loud moan before I can find the rest of my sentence. "That book on pick-up lines works."

Her head falls back in a cackle. I laugh with her before we crash together again, getting tangled up, the entire car swaying with our movements. Maggie’s tongue teases along my lips, and I open up, letting her in. She presses against me harder, chests rubbing against chest. My cock strains in my pants, begging to be let free.

Everything this woman has, I find myself wanting. I want her body, her mind, her laugh, her soul. The car is far too small for all I need to do.

My longing builds as our tongues dance together, and a low guttural growl hums out. She moans like she wants me even more than I want her. Maggie’s hands leave my body, but only to start removing her blazer. I help with jerky movements, shoving it down, off her shoulders, then move to the buttons on her blouse.

I grow frustrated with the tiny things and end up ripping down the middle. Buttons fly everywhere. Her beautiful chest is exposed between the sides of her shirt. I can’t help myself; I stop and look down.

A beautiful pink lacy bra, the fabric sheer over her skin. "You wore this to torture me," I mumble through my panting. My thumb drifts over the nipple. I want to taste them. With my mouth. Over and over again. She moans again and closes her eyes.

"I wore it for you, Grayson. I haven’t stopped thinking of you since we kissed."

I groan as I suck on her neck, pinching the beaded nipple in my fingers, but she keeps talking. “Thinking of you in the shower, in my bed, at my computer, at work.”

She arches her back, pressing her heat against my hard cock, rocking the car back and forth with her movements. “How many times I moaned your name late at night,” she says, then leans forward. Right against my ear, she whispers, “Grayson.”

That's it. I need to feel her, need to hear my name on her lips again. My hand slinks down, down, down, her body. Shaking, I undo her pants with a flick and plunge my hand inside them.

“Grayson,” she says again when I touch her soaked pussy.

"You're so fucking wet, Maggie." I swirl my fingers once around her clit before hooking my hand up. Maggie lets out a yelp of pleasure the moment I'm inside her. “You like that, Maggie?” She whimpers out a breathy yes, then bites her bottom lip. The sight is so erotic, I growl as I thrust my fingers deeper. “Ride me, Maggie. Ride my hand.”

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