Page 60 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

Another lie. I could have left her at the hospital. The nurses would have cared and watched over her all night and then when they saw she would be fine in the morning Willow could have gone back to her life, leaving mine untouched.

But I’m a fucking fool who wants what I want. Seeing her again, holding her close and having her scent permeate my senses has me harder than stone. A problem I’ll have to deal with at some point tonight after I get her home and tucked in.

Willow sighs a feminine sound from the safety of the passenger seat of my BMW, drawing my eye.

Seeing her hurt brings out a fierce, protectiveness in me I never show. The doctor with nerves of steel and unwavering control never falters.

But tonight, I nearly went crazy trying to find her. I rake my gaze over her sleeping form, anxiety clawing at my chest. I didn’t worry about my patients after they left the operating room. That was someone else’s job. But with Willow it is different. She’s different.

She’s drawn me in like a moth to a flame; captivated me in a way no one ever has and I don’t know if I can simply care for her and send her back to her life.

I ease my way through the ever-present midtown Manhattan traffic to my condo over in the Flatiron district.

I reach out, settling my hand on her knee, shaking her awake when the car hits a damn Manhattan pothole. My hand slides up her bare skin, settling on her thigh. I glance over. Between her black knee-high boots and velvet skirt, her legs were bare and the smooth silky skin beneath my palm is the sweetest I’ve touched.

Hell. God, give me the strength to pull away.

Her warm, supple thigh feels amazing beneath my fingers. I give the tender flesh a tight squeeze and bite back a fucking moan. My cock strains against my scrubs. Jesus H. Christ. She does things to me I have no control over. She makes me want to find a parking lot and just take her. Possess every inch of her body and fuck her until we both can’t stand. It’s not healthy to starve a craving and I’ve hungered to have her honey on my tongue for two long years. Endless months of dying to have her have left me starved. And now here she is, under my roof. And my care. Which should make her off-limits. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.

“Hmm, Aron. That feels so good. Go higher. Pleeease,” Willow purrs, her voice a tender mix of sleep and arousal. She slouches slightly in the seat, forcing her skirt to ride higher, exposing more of that delicate smooth skin I’m dying to lick every inch of.

Little minx. I guess she wasn’t asleep after all.

“Like this.” She places her hand over mine and guides me up her thigh to where she wants my touch.

My cock throbs and I groan, fighting the urge to move the last inch it would take to slip a finger under the strip of cloth between her legs.

I jerk my hand away, pulling into my usual parking. Bringing temptation home with me might not be the best idea, but I’ll deal with it like I do with everything else in my life. With acute precision.

But weren’t you the one who said she'll sleep only in your bed?

Fuck. My stupid sex-deprived brain really set me up for failure on this one. I slide Willow into my arms. The freight elevator off to the side is outfitted with designer colors and artwork and manned by a uniformed doorman who helps me with the gate.

“Evening, Doctor.” The doorman nods but doesn’t allow his gaze to stray to Willow for more than a brief glance.

Good. I am in no mood for questions or for her to be ogled. The doorman presses the necessary buttons to whisk us up to my penthouse without having to engage in mindless conversation. A privilege I pay a hefty price for.

Standing outside my penthouse, the doorman disappears and I am left alone with Willow.

She has her arms flung around my neck, her cheek pressed into my shoulder and her skirt so high I can see the tips of red lace. And whatever she has on for a shirt is doing nothing to hide the fact her nipples are hard as my dick right now.

“Go ahead and look. You can touch too.”

I groan but this time out of frustration. How many times have I dreamt about slipping her shirt up and devouring those hard tips again? Of finding them pierced and fucking beautiful with my jewels. Too many damn times to count.

I swallow.

“Absolutely not. Let’s get you to bed.” She melts into me like warm butter. I got a whiff of her fragrant hair, the fruity scent sending my senses reeling. Its color is otherworldly, a blend of reds and golds that I’ve never seen before. Her body is soft and pliant. Her heavy breasts pulling at the V of her shirt, giving me a teasing scene of sexy cleavage.

Only a few sparing lamps flicker on as I move through the condo, the majority of the light coming from the city. Just the way I liked it.

I walk us past the kitchen and down a wide hall. I want her here in my place and in my bed. I might not be able to have her the way I want, but at least I can have her near me until she recovers. I have a feeling her disorientation is due to being shaken up more than any of her bumps and bruises, but I’d take whatever excuse I can to keep her near me longer.

Setting her down on my massive king bed, I step back and turn, taking a minute to reposition my throbbing cock—her eyes on my back the whole time.

Fuck this is going to be a long night.

“Help me with my boots?” Those crystal blue eyes look up at me and the heat behind those pretty lashes goes straight to my already aching arousal.

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