Page 70 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

I pull on a pair of workout pants, running shoes and a t-shirt as I grab my keys and head for the elevator.

As soon as I step into the cargo bay the doorman tips his hat. He takes in my disheveled state without blinking an eye.

“She headed uptown via the Eighth Street Station. She asked for directions. And subway fare.”

I have a pretty good temper, but nothing has ever enflamed me faster than one heartbreakingly beautiful, auburn-haired ballerina.

Jaw clenched, I fight to wrangle in my control before my fear for Willow renders me useless to us both. Part of me wars with why the doorman let her get away, but what could he have done to stop her? Nothing. At least he gave her subway fair and knew exactly where she took off to. An unfamiliar sense of gratitude floods me. And it was the only thing that keeps me from strangling him.

“Thank you,” I manage to get out as the elevator slides to a halt.

I step into the frigid night air and turn right.

“Sir!” he calls after me though we’re probably the same age. “She went that way.” He points left with a gloved hand.

Through the park? Fuck.

A cold sweat breaks out over my body and I take off running.

A fast-moving blur of red and white catches my eye twenty yards ahead. There’s barely enough light here to see my hand in front of my face. The perfect scenario for anyone with malice in mind.

Willow walks with her head down and her arms wrapped around her midsection. those pretty locks flailing in the brisk wind. A trio of teenage punks whistles, nudging each other when she walks past and I swear I feel the devil in me come to life.

But my angel doesn’t look up. When I reach them I let my size and dog face do a lot of the talking. Funny how bullies and punk ass fucker like them take to running when faced with someone meaner and bigger.

“Go home,” I growl with quiet menace. The bigger one of the group shows he still has half a brain cell and taps the other two before taking off in a mad run in the opposite direction.

When I turn my attention back to Willow, I find the path ahead of me dark and empty.

I plunge into the darkness. Ten steps and I find her around the bend, a flickering light overhead and it’s like I’ve stepped into a thriller with only the fog missing. No damn way I’m going to stick around for a serial killer to ambush us. My long strides close the distance. If I don’t grab her, even though it will scare her, I’m afraid she’ll run and deeper into danger. I scoop her up, pinning her to me. Her feet dangle off the ground. I grip her ass and haul her closer, wrapping her around me.

She gasps and tries to fight me at first.

“Willow, it’s me.”

Damn woman is trembling out of fear and probably the sudden jolt of adrenaline to her bloodstream but there’s also a chill in the air. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I try to hold back my anger but it seeps through. She hears it too. Her back goes stiff.

“Go back to Melissa. Apparently, she’s got you on speed dial.”

“You took off in the middle of the night, injured, half-dressed with only subway fare, and you’re upset with me?”

“Save it, Aron.” She tries to fight me, but I hold her in place with a strong grip on her barely covered ass the skirt she has on isn’t doing much.

I bury my fingers in her hair and gently pull her back so we’re face to face. “Sweetheart, it’s my job to answer the phone in the middle of the night. I’m an OR surgeon.”

Blue eyes dance between mine at my reminder. I used my thumb to stroke the fleshy part of her hand clean before bringing it to my mouth and kissing it.

Willow’s fast intake of breath shoots hope through me, but I should know it will never be that easy with my feisty ballerina.

“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing. She called you baby. That wasn’t a work call.” She tugged her hand from my grasp.

I ignore her attempts to deflect me, and simply gather her close to my body. I know we needed to have this out, but I’d be damn if she stands in the night air shivering under my watch.

“Melissa’s my surgical fellow, baby. We work together, and she was doing some follow-up on a patient for me. So I could be with you. She has a wicked sense of humor and calls everyone baby. And likes to play pranks. A lot. That was the whole “I need you” crap. She’s riled up a few lovers that way for the doctor on the floor. You can ask her yourself tomorrow if you like.” As I speak, a thought occurs to me. Wicked as it is, I can’t help but smile. I slip my hands under her skirt and give her ass a squeeze only to find those plump cheeks bare. Naughty little dancer.

“You’re jealous,” I growl, letting my fingers slip into the crease of her ass and tease her puckered hole

“Go away.” She tries to pull out of my arms, but her body arches and forces me to touch more of her.

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