The entire ride over Willow sat so close to the door, Davis was sure if he reached across the seat, Willow was going to throw herself into traffic.
“Willow, what happened between us…”
“Nothing happened. It was a mistake. I never should have taken advantage of your wanting to comfort me.”
“Stop it. We almost made love, Willow.”
“Made love? You don’t know me well enough to call it that.”
“What would you call it, then a workout? Some play?”
Willow wasn’t just pushing him away; she was shoving with all of her might. The shock and pain of her words made him stumble backward emotionally.
“Shadows and dust. Questions and regret,” she said.
“What?”
“You would have questioned if I was making love to Harlem and I would regret not being able to answer you.”
The heaviness grew in his chest when Davis saw the black smoke in the pre-dawn light. Davis would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. She was having an affair with his memory and he was sitting right there next to her. He stopped near one of the engines and she put her shoulder in the door. He thumbed the lock shut and he looked over at her.
She looked up at him. “Tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind.”
He ran a hand over his mouth, and he glowered at her.
“Say the words and I’ll believe you, Langston.”
He shook his head and looked away. “Trust and believe. You wouldn’t have been making love to anybody’s memory. I’d make you mine.”
Willow tugged at the door handle. Davis leaned back against his door and folded his arms.
“You weren’t kissing anybody’s memory back there. You were kissing me with every pound of your being—not some boy. Let’s at least be clear about that.”
She paused. “I’ll send someone for my things.” She tugged on the door once more then sat back.
“If you’re going to blow me off, be woman enough to come and get your things yourself.”
Willow reached across the seat. He stilled himself for another slap. Instead she caressed his cheek and she let her fingers trail against his lips.
“And you say I haven’t hurt you,” she said thickly as a tired sadness passed over her features. “The last thing I ever wanted to do to you.” She moved to get out and he grabbed her hand.
“Won’t be long now.”
“Langston, please.” She put her other hand on his chest and pushed weakly then stopped.
“Please what? Let you go? Not a chance. You’re gonna have to shove harder than that. I felt it back there. I know you wanted me as much as I wanted you, but it’s all good. I’m not in the habit of forcing anyone into my bed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re gonna beg for me, Willow.”
“Langston, please...”
Davis leaned forward and captured her mouth. He kissed her hard enough to pry her teeth apart with his tongue as he delved deeper inside. He ended the kiss by sucking on her bottom lip hard enough to make her cry out softly. He snatched away and she leaned forward slightly. He held her face in his hands as if to commit her to memory and he shook her softly.
“Your instincts are more honest than you are.”
“Langston…”
He brought her mouth to his once more and he teased her with his tongue until she opened her mouth. He held her back from him and shook her softly.
“See? You’re already begging for me.”
Willow pulled away, covering her mouth as if it were a wound. He pressed the lock, and she shoved the door open and climbed out. Members of her team walked over. Beth crossed in front of the truck, glaring at him through the windshield. He got out and she walked over to him.
“Where was her phone? Where was her fucking phone!?”
“I brought her back to you this morning, didn’t I?”
“Never should have trusted you with her. Should have known better.”
“She was safe. I would kill or die to keep her that way.”
Beth waved her hand as if to silence him and she jogged over to Willow with Matisse loping beside her.
By the time Willow had collected her evidence from the third scene, a small convenience store off of Route Forty, the twinge of pain in her back had spread up to her shoulders and down her thighs. The image of her name on the walls should have been enough to send her back outside, but she knew Davis was out there canvassing and doing what he could to help.
All it would take was to see Davis and Willow knew her focus would be out the door. She wanted to go to him and try to explain again, but the pain she’d seen in his face before she’d climbed out of his truck was enough to keep her on task. It was over before it started and for once she was glad.
At last Willow could articulate why she could never sustain a relationship with a man. Kyle had been right in his own childish way. Harlem Jones was real enough in her life that no one could compare.
She thought of the ring Kyle had given her and she made a note to herself to mail it back to him once she picked up her things. Just the thought of going back to Davis’s immediately made her think about the way he’d kissed her. If she didn’t know any better, the man seemed like he was fighting for her.
The way he’d touched her, pulled her to him. The man wasn’t asking for anything, he was taking what was already his. Her body was responding to this man as if she’d known him all of her life. She chided herself for the kiss he never should have given her.
Davis didn’t kiss her like a new lover. He wasn’t asking permission or seeking approval. It was like he already knew how to kiss her, how to touch her. No matter how hard he kissed her there was always something worshipping in his touch. He was mindful of her ribs, protective of them as if they were some exotic extension of his own body.
Nothing about Davis frightened her, from the way his hands slid up her sides loving away the pain in her ribs to the brazen way he mashed her against the wall. He couldn’t have known that he’d scored her when she slid down the front of him, but then again maybe he did. She’d watched as his eyes darkened as he used his hips to pin her against the wall before he finally let her slip to her feet.
Her nipple still ached from where his thumb had scraped over it as he spoke on the phone. He’d been so calm as he’d spoken, his gaze darkening with each swipe of his thumb. She couldn’t help but wonder what his mouth would feel like open and wet against her with his tongue following the same path around her aching bud. She was still lost in the memory of him when she heard his voice at the back door.
“She’s been in there long enough. You said yourself that the roof was creaking. Willow! You know damn well it’s connected. You can smell the jasmine and sandalwood in the air. For Christ sakes her ribs are broken. She can barely draw in a full breath. Just let me go inside to her. She has to know... Willow!”
Willow moved toward the sound of his voice. She was almost at the door when she heard him yell for her once more. She shoved her way out into the daylight and walked into him. He grabbed her arms and he pulled her around in front of him. He took his sleeve and scrubbed at the soot on her forehead.
“What’s taking so long in there? Is your name on the wall?”
She could taste the bitter rust of blood in the back of her throat and she swallowed hard. Her stomach lurched and all she could do was nod.
“There’s been another fire. The company that towed your truck. Willow, are you listening to me?”
“He’s getting closer,” she said dully. “He always goes after people he thinks have slighted me in some twisted sense of honor. You won’t be safe now... he’ll think your competition. Have to get you into protective custody.” She coughed into her shoulder and her grip on his arm tightened as her legs almost gave out.
Davis squinted at her then started pulling her by her sleeve.
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it? I didn’t see you take any painkillers last night.”
“It’s not bad,” she lied, praying he wouldn’t look at her too hard.
He stepped back far enough to take her in. Willow tried to turn away and he blocked her way.
“We’ve gotta go on scene. Evidently there’s a tape. Englund says it’s a message to you.”