Making the Rules by Ashe Barker

Author:Ashe Barker [Barker, Ashe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Lily woke. She ached, everywhere. Her bottom smarted, between her legs felt raw. If pushed, she would describe herself as well used and utterly sated.

She rolled over in the bed, reached out and found emptiness.

“Ben? Sir?” She shoved her tangled hair from her face as she struggled to sit up.

Christ, her arse hurt. And her shoulders ached, but it was a good sort of pain. She peered about her, taking in more of the details of Ben’s bedroom—plain, practical bedding in dark colours, the dark grey roller blind at the window that eliminated all light, or would if there were any outside. It was already late evening, she guessed, though she had no idea how long she’d been asleep. It felt like ages. The furniture was old-fashioned, solid, oak she thought, the sort of thing that was built to last several lifetimes. No doubt a legacy from Aunt Babs though Lily imagined that in the past the tops would have been cluttered with knick-knacks and keepsakes. Ben had mentioned donating lots of his aunt’s things to charity already.

A television was mounted on the wall opposite the bed. Lily fancied that would be another of Ben’s changes. For a temporary resident he had certainly made himself at home.

The sound of running water reached her. The shower? No, it was coming from further away. The kitchen. Her stomach growled, reminding her she had yet to sample the promised spaghetti Bolognese. Gingerly she eased herself to the edge of the bed and dangled her feet over the side.

The floor was wood, polished to a fine sheen, the area closest to the bed softened by a deep pile rug, also in a vibrant shade of dark blue. She sank her feet into it and flexed her toes. It felt luxurious, indulgent.

The room was warm, but Lily’s bare nipples were already hardening again as the air brushed them. Her clothes lay where she had left them, neatly folded on a chair close to the foot of the bed. She ignored those and instead reached for Ben’s discarded black T-shirt, which was closer to her, strewn on the duvet. It smelled deliciously of him, male and musky, the slightly citrus tang of his aftershave still lingering in the soft fabric.

The shirt reached to her mid-thighs. It seemed decent enough to Lily, not that this particularly mattered. Barefoot, she padded out into the hallway to seek out Ben.

He was in the kitchen, his back to her as he stirred a pan on the stove. Barefoot like her, he wore only his jeans, which hung loose about his waist, the snap fastener undone. His dark blond hair was roughly finger combed, a sexy mess reaching just past the nape of his neck. His shoulders were muscled, the deltoids well defined. His back tapered to a narrow waist, and Lily’s mouth watered at the slight indentations of his spine as he moved and stretched to adjust the heat under his pan.

How had she, skinny little Lily Jamison, normally

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