Page 58 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

Oh, okay then.

Protests bubble up in the back of my throat at how Aron steers me through the hospital corridors practically gluing me to his side with an arm snaked around my waist.

Well, protest might be too strong a word. The truth is, I would pretty much follow Aron anywhere. I already passed up a spot with a dance company in Paris so I could follow him to New York City. There is nothing in Florida for me anyway if I am to be honest. Not without him.

Not that I’m ready to share that tidbit of information.

Which is why going home with him is an epically bad idea. Why? Because I know the man will somehow find a way to pry the truth from me. If that happens how do I tell him just how much he’s figured into the plans for my life? The man who told me to get lost and never come back.

Yeah, maybe my plan of finding a way back into his life isn’t all that great after all.

I tug my hand, trying to free it from his much larger one, all while doing my best to ignore the tingling warmth slowly spread through my body. I thought the feelings I had for him when I was a teenager were strong, but they are a drop in the bucket compared to the liquid heat flooding between my thighs.

For a second, I lose myself in the haze of sensations his touch sets off inside me.

Those eyes.

That’s what drew me to Aron the first time he visited while in med school. My brother's much older best friend brought to life a part of me I didn’t know existed. His dark, penetrating eyes captivated me since day one. But I noticed other attributes too. And I can’t keep my gaze from flickering over them now.

Thick biceps, wide shoulders that go on for days, and fuck, those forearms. They ripple and bunch as we walk and I quickly notice he’s hiding a massive erection behind the lapel of his white coat.

My gaze traces over the sharp angle of his cheekbones before drifting over a chiseled jawline with just a hint of a beard. Probably from multiple shifts and little downtime between seeing patients.

My eyes drift closed and my teeth sink into my bottom lip as I imagine the rasp of that beard against the tender skin of my…

“Willow, sweetheart? What do you remember about tonight? Talk to me.” Aron’s voice pulls me from my wandering thoughts, and I fight to open my heavy eyelids. He hits a button for the elevator and we step inside alone. I relaxed slightly, letting my head drop against his chest, my hand splayed over his firm abs.

I blink to clear the blurry edges of my vision; my mind just as foggy and scattered. “Of course, I remember being mugged earlier, I fell, hit my head I think and then adrenaline kicked in.” The first thing I’d wanted to do was call Aron. “Then you walked in.”

And now you’re touching me and taking me home. And my brain and body want to freak the hell out. Honestly, I didn’t hit my head all that hard. Playing dodgeball in grade school earned me harder hits. But the adrenaline crash seems to be kicking my ass.

Those strong fingers of his are back to stroking tiny circles again over my skin.

God. I haven’t seen him in years, but the minute I am in trouble or hurting, he is the only one I wanted. But I fought the urge and called my brother instead from a stranger’s phone. When Sam pushed me to see Aron, my heart leapt at finally having an excuse to see him. But now I’m questioning my actions.

“Foggy-brained and all, I somehow managed to wave down a taxi.”

“You need to keep your eyes open. Not long now and you’ll be able to rest, but I need you awake for right now. What else happened?”

I rub at my temples. “Honestly, everything before you walked into my ER cubicle is white noise beyond what I told you already.”

I thought for sure annoyance is all I would get from him, especially after he realized I was uninjured. He’d think it was all a stunt like I am guilty of pulling as a teen trying to get his attention. And he wouldn’t be too far off.

For weeks now I’ve wracked my brain figuring out ways to see him again. The mugging really happened, but I am at the point where a bad experience and a few bumps and bruises seem almost worth it.

“Where are you taking me again?”

“Home. With me.”

“Good, I need a shower.” My tongue feels heavy with fatigue and my eyes are threatening to shut again. Hard muscles tighten around me.

“We’ll take care of that once you’ve had some rest.”

I freeze against his body, a terrible realization sending my heart racing again. My brain feels like it has been several seconds behind us and when it finally caught up, neither of us were happy with the results.

“My keys, Aron. They were in my bag. My wallet. My address!” The more reality sets in the further my stomach drops.

“Shh. Don’t worry about all that. You’ll be safe with me. We’ll call a locksmith in the morning.”