Sophia Phoenix ground her molars in irritation and gripped Tilly Flower's wrist as they got into the car.
In the early hours between 3 and 4 AM in London, the temperature had already plummeted to sub-zero, about minus ten degrees. Tilly was yanked out of the warm waiting room by Sophia Phoenix and the cold wind blew against her wound, causing it to sting with frozen sharpness.
She knitted her brows together, the pain was bearable, but the combination of cold and pain was truly uncomfortable. Sophia Phoenix stood to one side, glanced at her, and opened his wool coat to wrap her slender body inside.
His body was warmer than hers; cradled in his arms, Tilly could smell the sweet scent of his vanilla shower gel.
A grown man, yet he uses such a girly scented shower gel...
Tilly couldn't help but inwardly mock.
There was a distance to cover from the waiting room to the outside of the airport.
