My cock takes notice too.
Which couldn’t be worse timing.
We still haven’t properly discussed what happened.
Every time I’ve tried to push the conversation in that direction, she’s found a way around it, and until now I’ve let her.
But now she’s finally coming home with me.
To our home.
And neither of us is avoiding that conversation any longer.
I pull a hoodie over her head and guide her arms through the sleeves, my jaw tightens when she hisses in pain.
I take a step back and look at her.
The leggings are hers. Everything else belongs to me.
Her included.
And all I can think is that she looks cute as fuck.
A phrase that never existed in my vocabulary before Piper Ashthorne bulldozed her way into my life.
Her wild ginger curls are pulled back into a ponytail I put up myself earlier. A few strands have escaped, and I tuck them behind her ears before bending down to press a kiss to her forehead.
I pick the bag up from the bed and then take her hand in mine.
Outside the room, Harry is waiting.
He nods at us, and my woman smiles at him.
I don’t particularly appreciate that.
He catches my eye and immediately straightens.
Smart fucking man.
Then he turns and starts walking, and we follow behind him.
Piper’s slower, and I know she must be in pain, but she flat out refused to leave in a wheelchair, insisting she’s fully recovered and more than capable of walking by herself.
The moment we step outside, she takes in the waiting car and Harry standing beside it with the door held open before meeting my eyes.
“I need to get to the airport.”
I come to an abrupt halt.
“Come again?”
“I said, if it’s not too much trouble, you can drop me at the airport on your way home.”
“I heard that.”
“Then why…”
I release her hand and bring it to the back of her neck before bending down slightly so we’re eye level.
