Chapter 2

Two

Willow, Present Day

I have a bad case of the trembles. I know the second Aron walks up behind me and I can't keep the tremor of nerves from attacking me in full force. I don't need to turn around to check if he's there.

I just know. I can feel him like I can feel the warmth of sunlight on my face in the summer. And the cold biting winds of winter. You see the devilishly handsome doctor is both for me. Warmth and cold. Love and hate.

I swallow.

My fingers grip the edge of the bed I'm perched on, the room tilting a little to the right, as the nurse cleans the last of the scrapes along my bare arms. The cops have come and gone with their report, leaving me with no false hope of ever recovering my laptop bag and wallet. Lucky for me I stuffed a twenty-dollar bill in my pocket after paying for lunch. Tomorrow will be a nightmare to face when I show up for dress rehearsal all cut up. Pretty in Pink? HA! Try fugly in black and blue.

"Willow."

Husky and deep. Strong fingers caress over my bare hip where my shirt has ridden up to expose unblemished skin.

God, I've longed to hear him say my name again, to feel his hands on my body. When I arrived at the emergency room and they brought me back I wished it had been him to undress me and check over my body. His hands on my skin tenderly cleaning my scrapes. Maybe kiss away the pain of where I fell on my ass thanks to my mugger.

But no dice. Technically, I knew the chances were zilch of that ever happening, but my brain liked the fantasy despite reality.

"I'll take it from here, nurse."

Tingles wash down my spine and I fight a shiver. Fully clothed, I can't claim it's the cool air of the hospital.

The nurse flashes a puzzled look over my shoulder but stands to move. "Yes, doctor."

I watch as the nurse disappears on the other side of the curtain blocking out the rest of the staff and other patients.

"Aron." I squeak out to my utter embarrassment. Where's a pile of sand to bury your head when a girl needs it? Of all my body parts, it is my voice box that betrays me the one time I wish to sound strong.

Blinking up at him, all the snide smart remarks I dreamed up telling him one day dissolve in a vapor of uncertainty. Sure, I might still hold a grudge at how we left things, but the man thought he was doing me a favor. I can't hate him for that as hard as I try.

And none of that changes one fact. Our two years apart did nothing but make him intensely sexier. Gorgeous even. Like wet my panties in three-point-five seconds kind of hot.

He towers over me, those broad shoulders of his filling out the white doctor's coat with his name stitched across the left pec. Mmm...taut and well-formed if memory serves and it does. Trust me on that.

Dark hair and darker eyes make up the complete package of Doctor Hottie. He lifts my hand in his powerful one, examines the scrapes across my palm in silence, then moves to the next. Rinse repeat with the rest of my body all without saying a word. Not even a hello, damn him. Just a few grunts and I swear a growl or two at the bruises appearing on my chin from where my mugger took a pop shot at me when at first I refused to give up my bag.

I chew at my lip. I probably shouldn't have come. It's not like I won't live with my minimal injuries. More hurt pride than anything.

It felt wrong in so many ways, but when he steps into my personal space I don't hesitate in spreading my legs for him to come closer.

And then he does.

He leans in until our chests are nearly touching and his lips brush against the shell of my ear. I gasp, ready for I don't know what, but my bandaged hands come up and grip the sides of his coat.

"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."

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."

"Why?" I blurt out the question, honestly puzzled by him going this far. Maybe it's out of loyalty to my brother? I don't know, but I can't help but want to hear the answer.

"Why are you doing this?"

The elevator doors ding but instead of stepping out, he tips my chin up. Our gazes lock and the force staring down at me is a whole story of its own. There's hunger there—I'm tired, not blind. "I want to make sure you do not have a concussion, sweetheart. You need supervision and I think I'm more than qualified to give it to you. Unless you want to sleep at the hospital and then go home to an unsafe apartment."

He smiles down at me in a way that has my mouth dropping open a little. I swear my heart can't take much more. It's pounding a million miles an hour. I hear his words, agree even, but my eyes see the hunger behind that smile.

My hands flatten against his muscular chest.

"Any objection?"

"Nope. Your place it is," I say breathlessly.

His eyes drag over my face and I melt under their heat and I swear, for a minute, I think he's going to pin me to the wall of the elevator and kiss the hell out of me.

"Good. This shouldn't have happened in the first place," he says, a blaze of anger pulling his brows tight and lips into a thin line. "You shouldn't have been out alone in the city at this time of night."

I guess I am wrong. Just like our last time together. I'm wet, ready for him to claim me and all he did was run me out of his room and his life.

"Willow?" His voice calling my name again brings my attention back to the present moment and I focus in on him, surprised to realize his face is only inches from mine.

"Are you going to kiss me now?" My voice comes slow and slightly slurred with just a hint of huskiness.

"Lean into me, baby, let me carry your weight. We're almost to my car."

He leads us out of the elevator into an underground parking filled with pricey cars.

Aron stops walking, his scent gripping my senses. "Eyes open, Willow." His voice is sharp and commanding this time. I imagine it is the voice he uses to get the staff in his operating room jumping to do his bidding. God knows that voice is enough to get me ready and willing to do his bidding.

I might not want him to take me home with him out of some misguided sense of obligation because of his friendship with my brother, but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy being close to him for as long as I can before he goes back to being Dr. Hands Off and I'm nothing more than his best friend's annoying little sister.

Without making a conscious decision to do so, I sink into the sense of security I get as his broad shoulders shelter me, making me feel safe and taken care of for the first time since I moved to this city full of strangers.

I clutch the lapels of his lab coat and rest my forehead against his hard chest, fighting the need to blurt out everything I feel and just letting it all be for now. But fear of rejection seals my lips.

Aron's warm hand drifts soothingly up and down my back. I am allowing myself to live in a fantasy world standing here in the arms of a man I dream of claiming me someday.

His last words grip my heart. I'm such a stupid fool for coming here. Stirring up bad memories. The last months living on my own in Manhattan and trying to make a name for myself in the dance world taught me that my dreams are as likely to come true as Prince Charming is to step out of the pages of a fairytale.

Time to get my head out of the clouds and return to reality. I lift my head and take a step back, immediately missing the warmth of Aron's body seeping into mine.

Forget it, Willow. He was never yours to begin with.

I grit my teeth and ignore my reeling head. "On second thought, you know what. I'll be fine. If you could just drop me at my apartment, I'll call the Super, change my lock, and get right to bed." Playing house won't help anyone nor will me trying to find something between us that just isn't there.

"Is that a fact," he murmurs low, pinning me to the wall beside the elevator. Anyone might walk out of the elevator and see us like this, but Aron doesn't seem to care. His hard length presses into my stomach and I gasp when his finger tucks beneath my chin and lifts.

I can feel every single nerve in my body waken and fill my body with anticipation.

A breath I don't realize I'm holding whooshes out as two strong arms sweep me up.

I'm pressed from hip to tit against my doctor when he growls, "The only bed you'll be getting into is mine. Now let's go."