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The storage unit was nearly empty. Only a half-dozen boxes sat in one corner. Willa quickly moved to them not sure what they would find since all of the boxes had been packed by the police.
Landry pulled a knife and cut the tape on each box. She stared at the knife, remembering her cut art supply box, then shaking off her suspicion, began to go through the contents quickly, hoping she would find the painting or a disk—and yet afraid what would happen once she did.
It didn’t take long to go through the six boxes that she’d left here only days before. The painting wasn’t there.
She closed the last box and turned to look at Landry. He’d been going through the boxes after her. He swore as he looked through the last one, then he glanced up at her, a look of both disappointment and fear on his face.
“It’s not here,” she said because someone needed to say it.
He nodded. “You packed it for the show. The gallery owner must still have it.”
From his tone she knew going anywhere near St. Pete Beach would be dangerous. And not just for her. Landry was more well-known there than she was. He would be at an even greater risk.
“I can go try to find it,” she said, realizing that on some level she believed his story about Zeke’s death. Otherwise why risk her life to save his?
He smiled and turned off his flashlight. Hers was pointed at the concrete floor, leaving his handsome face in shadow, his eyes looking even darker than usual.
“There is no way I’d let you go alone,” he said.
“If you’re worried about me not coming back with the painting—”
“It’s not that. It’s too dangerous for you to go at all, let alone by yourself.”
She felt a prickling of suspicion. “You want to go alone?”
“You can call Evan, tell him to cooperate with me,” Landry said.
She stared at him, hating that he could so quickly make her feel uncertain of him.
“Isn’t it possible that I want to protect you?” He was staring at her as if it made a difference what she thought.
Don’t do this, Willa. Don’t trust him. You know he’ll only end up hurting you.
She couldn’t look into his face. She turned off her flashlight, pitching the inside of the storage unit into blackness. She could hear him breathing, knew he was close, closer than he’d been just moments before. She swallowed, her nerves raw with just the thought of him, her body alive with the thought of his touch.
“We should get back to the island,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Not yet.” His voice was rough with emotion and so close, she felt his breath warm her cheek.
She jumped at the brush of fingertips along her arm, then his arm was around her waist, dragging her to him as his mouth dropped unerringly to hers.
He groaned as if kissing her had been the le
ast of his plans. She could barely breathe, the way he held her so tightly against him, her breasts crushed to his chest. He parted her lips with his tongue, and she opened to him.
Her heart was pounding so hard, she knew he had to feel it in his chest. Her body melted against his, her arms going around his neck as the kiss deepened and her pulse made a buzzing sound in her ears.
He shifted his body, his hand slipping between them to cup her breast. Heat shot through her, her breast aching, her nipples hard as pebbles, sending a fire shooting through her veins straight to her center.
She moaned against his mouth as he thumbed the hard peak of her nipple, the pleasure almost unbearable. “Landry,” she breathed against the hot pressure of his mouth.
Lifting her, he pressed her against the Sheetrock wall and shoved her shirt up to get to the old-lady bra she’d put on earlier. He jerked it up and freed her breasts in one shift motion. She leaned her head back, arching her body against him as the night air blew across her bare breasts, dimpling her flesh an instant before she felt the hot wet suction of his mouth on her nipple.
She gasped, the intensity of the sensation making her dizzy. She could feel his fingers working at the zipper on her black jeans, feel his hardness through his own jeans against her bare belly.
Without warning, he stopped, cursed and drew back, his hands on her hips the only thing holding her up since her legs had gone to rubber.
She let out a small cry of frustration and fear that he wouldn’t continue. She couldn’t see his face—just hear him breathing hard. She wanted him like she’d never wanted anything in her life.
