Page 33 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“There it is.”

“What?”

“That fucking face.”

Elliot looked up. Ronan was watching him. The corner of his mouth had lifted. Amused.

“You think it's cute.”

“A little.”

“I could hate you.”

“No, you couldn't.”

Ronan reached across the island. His thumb brushed a spot of sauce from the corner of Elliot's mouth. The gesture was casual. Tender. Possessive in its own quiet way. Elliot went still. Ronan's hand lingered.

“You have nothing to worry about.”

Elliot looked at him.

“You don't know that.”

“I do.”

“How?”

“Because I'm telling you.”

Something in Elliot eased. Not completely. Enough. Ronan withdrew his hand. Elliot caught his wrist. Ronan's eyebrows lifted. Elliot turned his hand over and pressed his mouth against the inside of his wrist. Once. Then his teeth closed lightly over the skin. Ronan jerked.

“Jesus.”

Elliot smiled against him.

“Problem?”

“You're a fucking menace.”

Elliot bit slightly harder. Ronan's eyes darkened.

“Elliot.”

He released him. A faint crescent of teeth marks remained. Ronan stared at them. Then at Elliot.

“Good boys don't bite.”

Elliot smiled. Sweetly. The same smile Bellweather trusted.

“Who told you I was good?”

Ronan stared at him for another second. Then laughed and shook his head. Elliot returned to his dinner. Outside, somewhere beyond the rain-dark windows, police were searching for Mason Kerr's killer. Inside, Ronan reached across the island and stole a piece of garlic bread from Elliot's plate. Elliot slapped his hand. Ronan laughed again. And for the rest of the night, neither of them mentioned the dead boy.

Chapter Four — Jealousy Looks Good on You

RONAN

FRIDAY · 9:47 P.M.