Wrath (Sinful Secrets, #4)

by Ella James

If local people knew about me, would anybody come?

"Josh, I’m glad you’re back,” she whisper-hisses. “Your stepbrother is here."

OH MY MOTHERFUCK, IT’S BRIDGE GUY.

"You gonna keep on walking or just eye fuck me?"

"Is that what you think?" I manage. "What do you think?" He smirks, but it's mean now. "I don't know." "Cat got your tongue, Joshua?"

"No, Ezra. That's not what I think."

"You realize you almost fucking killed us both? I hit my head on my boat?"

"I don't even remember getting into the boat. Then you just left. I was passed out. My fucking back is sunburned." "Yeah, because I rolled you over face-down. Pretty damn pale for a boater boy,” he says. "Then why'd you roll me over, exposing my largest land mass to the sun?" "So you don’t sprout more freckles."

"Yeah, I don't have freckles, boat boy." He smirks.

think I can potty by myself. Your towels are the pink ones, right?" Oh yeah, my new stepbro definitely wants to smash my face up to match his. "Right." I think he tries to roll his eyes as he folds his arms over his chest. "Yours are blue."

"Well, of course," Carl says. He rolls his eyes. "Because they're orange." I give him a death stare.

"I don't think it's weird," my mom says quickly. "Sounds like an angel,”

“But the Old Testament kind, where you don’t know if they’re holy or a villain that’ll kill you with a death stare.”

"You were accusing me of being a damned Yankee.”

"Only Josh Miller, but I think he might be gay because he never wants to kiss me."

"Oh my God, I didn't say that." "You didn't?"

"I'm an awful person,” she says sadly. “The worst." "Nah....

“Landry, what did you do?” The yellow dress girl looks at me. “I’m Cara, by the way. Our girl here has had too much to drink. You can’t be picking up boys from the city,”

“You’re a city boy. I know ’em when I see ’em.” I grin. “See? Even that smile says city boy. You had braces?” she asks. “No. I didn’t. Does it look like I did?”

already know you are, Joshie. One of the girls here was lamenting over it." The hall shifts slightly as my throat goes too tight. "What do you mean?" "Oh, just a girl complaining that you never looked her way. She was worried you might bat for the other team."

"Who I bat for isn't your business,” I manage. “Unless you want it to be."

"Is that it, Ezzie? Projecting what you want to be true?"

In your dreams, Miller. If anybody's a stepbrother fuck...

"Don't be a bully, angel. Doesn't suit your pretty face or your w...

You can feel the chemicals draining your life force." I get a good laugh from that. "Ahh, a pity."

"You mean your arm is good enough," Miller clarifies. I shut my eyes and stub the butt out. "Yes." "It's attached to you. Not sure if you were aware."

say, "I can get it out. Brennan." I look at Bren. "Get those little scissor pliers, the red ones you’ve got under the console?”

“We don’t have to get it out here,” I tell him. “Would you rather go to the emergency room and let them do it?” He shakes his head. "No."

"I can get it out,” I say. “I'm good with small things."

"You should sit down."

"I'm getting Dad!" He and Pipsa dash off as Marcel hands Ezra a large, silver flask. "Chug it, bro."

“Hold it sideways, Ezra. If you have to, hold onto your wrist to keep it still. And don’t look.” To Brennan, I say, "Tell me if your grip is good. If it is, I'm gonna put some pressure on the top, straighten them out a little, so it’s easier to…”

"I'm going to straighten the bendy parts so that it's easier to come out. It might pull a little. Then I'll grip your hand from the side, and Bren will get it out fast.

"Feelin’ emotional, DG?"

Those soft lips—his whole damn, weird, avenging angel face—is gorgeous, even pale and drunk and sweaty.

“What’re you looking at?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

He’s the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen in real life, and I hate it.

“You always get your beauty sleep, Millsy?”

you okay?” He asks it quietly. I look at his good boy Miller face, his messy dark hair. “Are you?”

When I'm near him, it just fucking burns inside me. What a perfect, good boy Miller. I can see a nipple through his T-shirt, and I can't stop myself: I reach out and flick it.

He jerks back, hissing a curse, and that's when I see wha...

He was crying, lying on his side with an arm over his face, his shoulders shaking till I woke him up.

"That's not supposed to happen."

“You like the idea of me in bed?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t like the idea of you anywhere in this house, but no one asked me. I’ve done nothing but be nice to you, and you’ve done nothing but—” “Be an angry angel?”

“Where did you see that? You went in my fucking bedroom?”

“You’re flattered because I drew you? You must have nothing else to get your dick up.” “I’ve got plenty."

"It’s you who doesn’t. It seems you’ve only got me.” “I don’t want you.”