Page 101 of Composed
“You heard my wife. In,” Saint demands, nudging Hendrix back with a gentle hand before pulling the door shut.
Hendrix spins, arms flailing as she stumbles on her heels.
I grip her hips before I can stop myself.
Electricity sparks at my fingertips and shoots through my veins, straight to my fluttering chest.
She exhales a soft breath. “I don’t have to stay at yours.”
My chest tugs. “Your stuff is already at our place, might as well have you there too.”
“Honestly, it’s fine. I’ll just grab everything when we're done in the studio tomorrow.”
I squeeze her hips once before stepping back.
“Don't be daft. You’re staying with us now.” I cup her shoulders, steer her to the passenger seat, and tug the door open.
She looks as if she’s about to argue, but Saint snakes a hand around the seat and drags her down by tugging at her dress.
I close the door behind her, blowing out a slow breath as I round the car and hop behind the wheel.
By the time I pull into our underground garage, Hendrix is out of the count.
Her hair falls over her face, breaths puffing from her parted lips.
Theo jumps out the car, before darting through the garage. Giggles echo through the air as Saint chases after her.
I shake my head with a dry laugh.
Like I said,idiots.
I kill the engine, pocket my keys, and tap Hendrix’s arm.
She doesn’t stir.
I weigh up my options.
Waking her is the most obvious one, but I’m not sure I’m ready to look into her eyes again tonight. I could call Saint back down and make him cart her upstairs. But I’m pretty sure he’ll just call me a twat and slam the door in my face.
I card a hand through my hair, then drag it down my face.
Hooking the keys Saint tossed me around my thumb, I step out of the car, and tug open the passenger door.
My pulse fucking gallops as I scoop Hendrix into my arms.
Her hair tickles my nose, the strawberry and lemon scent unchanged after all these years. I try to ignore how perfectly she fits against me when she nuzzles into my chest but I’m not a fucking idiot. Even I can’t deny the truth right in front of me.
I shift her weight and wrap her arms around my neck for a better hold.
Goosebumps flicker to the life where warm fingers graze my skin. I close my eyes and steel steeling my nerves before carrying her up the stairs and into the flat opposite mine—because Saint just had to pick this one for her.
I bypass the lounge, heading straight for the bedroom.
Her eyelids crack open when I lay her down on the white sheet. “Cole?”
“What’s up, Rixie?” I tug the duvet over her legs, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
She doesn’t say anything.
