Page 68 of Good at Being Bad (Rock Canyon, Idaho 8)

Smalls barked and rolled over onto his stomach. Ellie rubbed it with a laugh as Mike crawled into bed.

“He knows who the boss is, huh?”

“I wish.” Mike watched her over the puppy for a half a second, wondering if he should kiss her goodnight. When she didn’t move, he turned and flicked off the light. “Good night, Ellie.”

“Good night.”

After a few minutes of laying on his back listening to Small’s snores, he heard her whisper, “Mike?”

“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at her but her back was to him.

“Will you hold me?”

She didn’t need to ask him twice.

He moved Smalls to the end of the bed scooted up against her. Then, he draped his arm around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. “I’d love to.”

He was wearing only boxers and a T-shirt and could tell that under the covers she was in her Bruins shirt, but had removed her jeans. The smooth skin of her leg rubbed against his, and his cock hardened involuntarily. He tried to make it go away, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he ignored it.

Pretty soon, he felt her relax against him and her breathing deepened. As Mike snuggled closer to her, taking in her fruity scent, he realized that holding Ellie was better than anything he’d ever experienced.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ellie bolted up and out of Mike’s arms just after six in the morning.

“What’s wrong?” Mike mumbled.

“I thought I heard something.”

Mike rolled out of bed, and flipped on the lamp. Smalls, who was sleeping up on the pillow by her head, yawned.

“You stay put, and I’ll check things out. Come on, Smalls. It’s potty time.”

Mike walked out the door and Ellie, ignoring his suggestion to stay put, followed behind him. He let Smalls out into the fenced back yard, and Ellie shivered as the cold morning air stung her legs and arms.

Suddenly, Mike exclaimed, “What the hell?”

She watched him run to the side door of his garage, and open it.

“Motherfucker!”

Ellie picked Smalls up when he finished pooping and started to go into the garage.

“Watch your step. There is glass everywhere.”

Ellie stood where she was, her mouth hanging open. Mike’s motorcycle was trashed. It looked as though someone had taken a baseball bat to it, then spray painted the wreckage with bright orange paint.

“I need to file a report,” he said mildly.

“How can you be so calm? That bike must have been expensive, and with everything going on with your business…God, Mike, I am so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He stopped in front of her and cradled the back of her neck with his hand, his fingers threading into her messy hair. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

“I’m not very good at taking orders,” she said.

He kissed her lips. “It was a suggestion, not an order. I’ll preface it as such next time.”

Worrying her bottom lip, she twisted her hands together to stop the shaking. “Do you think it’s Forrest?”

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