Page 57 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

“You’re coming home with me, Willow, and I don’t want to hear one word of protest about the matter.”

I draw in a deep breath and hold it. “I’m sorry, what?” I croak this time, but my brain and my hands have two different ideas. My brain says hold the phone, but my hands are already linked around the back of his neck, holding him in place.

Home with Aron?

I tip my head just a little to the right and take another long breath. No one in the world smells like him. Expensive cologne, not strong, but there like a sexy, slow kiss that warms the soul. Masculine with an underlying hint of soap. I can smell it over the sterilizing agents the hospital uses to keep everything clean which is a miracle. Or, I’m fine-tuned to all things Aron.

Probably the latter of the two.

My lips whisper over the skin of his neck and I moan a tiny sound when his arm comes around and a large warm hand settles on my lower back.

“Yes. Willow. With me.”

He says it like I’m going to obey, no question.

God help me, he’s right.

He steps away to fill something out on a clipboard, taking his body heat with him.

My breath comes fast and I’m trying to piece together the night’s events and how they led to this moment.

Every few seconds his dark eyes flicker my way and each time my body betrays me. Heat blooms where I should have an arctic blast of air set on a steady chilling don’t-give-a fuck-degrees where Aron is concerned.

But that would be a lie even the Devil wouldn’t buy.

My cheeks are right on time with their heavy dose of heat. My heart rate is tripling its last beats-per-minute every few seconds.

My only saving grace is that I wasn’t ordered to disrobe by the nurses. Or the wet spot under me would be a little hard to explain.

In case you can’t tell, I never fully got over my teenage crush. I meant what I said the last time I saw him. He was more than a fleeting fancy for me.

Instead of greeting him by throwing my arms around his neck and diving in for a lingering kiss, I ease off the bed.

“Hang on! You don’t want to—damn stubborn girl.”

Tables and jars of cotton balls spin and I throw my arms out to steady myself, but no need. He’s there, his strong arms catching me against a perfectly hard chest. He lifts me back on the bed with me plastered to him.

I guess I have no shame really.

Yep, he never missed a workout day as far as I can tell.

“Take a seat. Next time you move will be with me.”

Gruff and bossy as fuck.

I flick my eyes up to his. He’s yet to take his hands off me, and in fact, they linger on my waist right where my shirt has ridden up. His thumbs stroke tiny circles against my skin and damn if that doesn’t steal all my good sense.

My gaze drops to his. “Controlling as usual. Glad to see you haven’t changed.” My tart remark earns me a dark, hooded look before he drops his hands and moves away. I try to tell myself not to overreact, but wicked heat pools between my legs, leaving behind a teasing trail of lust.

What looks like disdain flashes across his handsome face. But the knot on my head might be skewing my vision and making everything appear warped so I close one eye.

“Just call me an Uber or something and I’ll head over to Sam’s house. He’s not too far. Be out of your hair in twenty max.” Lightning bolts shoot through my brain, and I feel like Thor’s hammer is using my head as a drum.

“Not happening,” he says matter-of-factly.

Ok, so not big on words tonight. He looks at me several beats and then checks his watch, taps out something on his phone and then slides me into his arms. The second his body warmth caresses against mine my nipples pucker into hard points beneath my bra. His scrubs aren’t exactly thick, and my thin cotton top isn't much of a barrier either. Every delicious ripple of muscle he uses to pin me to his body doesn't go unappreciated.

“Let’s get you home.”

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