Ashton rapped on her bedroom door, and it swung open. Empty. The comforter bore a vague outline of where she must have lain down, but she wasn’t there. Sinclair still slept in the twin size bed, and they hadn’t been able to convince her to allow them to buy her a bigger one. In fact when she’d heard Craig ordering one, she’d raised such a stink his brother had backed down. They figured it had something to do with her wanting to keep things the way they were, savor the memories of their parents. The cute little shorts and silky top she’d worn earlier were tossed in a heap across the bottom of the bed, and he had an absurd desire to go over and stroke the fabric. Her fresh scent greeted him, and his cock stirred. Fuck. Her earnest plea to be with him and Craig had affected him considerably, and the several hours of riding fences and hard work of repairing a few areas had barely managed to cool his jets. Craig emerged from the kitchen, a loaf of bread hanging from one hand. Tension crackled.
