Wrath (Sinful Secrets, #4)

by Ella James

I'm getting addicted to that moment right after he wakes up.

Once or twice, he tucked my head to his chest as he was holding onto me. It felt so good.

I wrap my hand around the base of my dick. Fuck, I came so hard just now. I’m dizzy. My hand starts to shake as blood rushes to my cheeks. There’s a feeling back behind my eyes somewhere—a sort of pressure. Ezra, I think.

But I can’t say it. I can’t do anything as my knees buckle.

A tear spills out. I look down at myself, where I’m still hard, and that makes me feel so much worse. I try to get air into my lungs, but they’re locked. Oh, fuck. Did I hurt him? I have to go say something to him.

My goal was to mess with him. My goal was to taste him. Because I’m weak. I’m selfish, and I know it. I should go back on the pills, so the nightmares will stop. I should go back to the trestle bridge.

“Miller?” There’s no answer. “Hey, Mills?” I hear another soft gasp. My chest is so tight, I can’t stop myself from pulling the blue shower curtain back. I find him on the tub’s floor, crumpled on his side. He’s choking on the water, and his body’s jerking rhythmically. Holy shit!

“Miller! Dammit!” His torso, straddled by my trembling legs, gives a final jerk, then he goes so limp he’s gotta be dead. “Miller! Please…”

“Mills!” I lay his head down and shake his shoulders, holding my breath as I wait for him to wake up. But he doesn’t. I shake him again. “MILLER? Wake up!”

“Fucking shit, fuck! SHIT!” I’m up on my feet, jerking the shower curtain, half falling out of the tub. I throw my arm across the countertop, sending everything flying. I hear a crash a half second before I realize I’m throwing things. I can’t stop. Something shatters—aftershave—and I’m crouching down on my knees, one palm pressed against the bathroom floor. Everything’s blurring together.

He’s breathing! It sounds wet and rough, but— Fuck! Miller coughs and then starts gagging. I’m weak with relief as I climb back into the tub and kneel over him. Focus, Ezra. Fucking focus. It’s not Alton.

“Ez?”

“Hey there, Millsy.” I cup his cheek with my hand, which still trembles.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna help you get up, okay? We’ll stand up and wash off. Then I’ll get you in bed. You’ll feel better.”

“Okay, Millsy. You think you can hold your head up?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” My voice is a soft rasp. He wipes at his chin. He’s wincing. “You have seizures, Miller? Have you ever had a seizure before?”

“Hey.” I can’t keep myself from brushing his damp hair up off his forehead. “You know where we are?”

“In the shower. Dickface.”

“Okay, twinky winky. Lemme get you up. I’ll sling you over my shoulder like one of those bags of feed we lift at practice.”

“Turn your head away from it so you don’t get it in your mouth.” “Really?”

“It’s okay, Mills. Let me wash you off, okay? Just hold onto me. I’m not skinny anymore. You notice that? I’m on the gain train now. I’ve gotcha.”

“You think you can step over the side of the tub?” He nods, looking wide-eyed and dazed. “I can help you.” I do, and we make it.

“Let’s walk to my bed, okay? Or your bed?” Why the fuck am I asking him questions? “My bed,” I decide.

“Lift your head up, Mills. I’ve got a pillow for ya.”

“I don’t know how long it went for,” I say. “I got in there and it stopped, and he got sick, like choking up some water, I think. And then I got him out and walked him to my bed.”

“Yeah. He knew who I was and he tried to make a joke.” “Oh, poor Joshua. We thought we were over this, but evidently not…”

“Do you know if he…did anything?” she asks. “Anything strange? Did he drink alcohol?”

“Do two things,” Suzanne tells me.

“Text me what the numbers are, and keep on checking.”

“Also,” she says, “you can’t let him drive. Not anywhere. I don’t think he would, but wrestle his keys from him if you have to. Will you do that?” “Sure thing.”

‘I’ll watch him all night. It’s not a problem. I’m not even tired.’ ‘That’s so sweet of you, Ezra.’ The hell it is.

But I don’t think I know that person. Maybe in the past… But not now.

When I feel like I’ve had enough, I open my eyes and see…Ezra. Pretty Ezra. Sort of sunburned. His eyes on mine are intense. It makes me feel confused. I look around, noticing…I’m in his room? I don’t remember falling asleep in here.

“Do you remember anything about it?” he asks. “Your mom said you usually don’t.” I don’t have seizures. Anymore.

“It’s okay if you’re out of it,” he says. “I’ll be here with you. So don’t be worried.”

Then I feel the mattress shift. I cut my eyes to my left and realize Ezra’s in bed beside me. He’s on his back, like me, and he’s holding a paperback above his face. “What are you reading?”

“Fuck.” His lips twitch in a small smile. “You snuck up on me.”

“I’m awake now.” I get a deep breath, and he climbs over my legs to the bedside table, where he picks up a glass with a straw in it. “Water,” he says, holding it to my lips.

Fuck, why did this happen? I outgrew this.

Ezra’s moving over me. He’s climbing back up on the bed. Fuck, I wish I could get up. I should try to.

Instead, I feel him tucking blankets around me.

“Keep your eyes shut,” he says softly. “Everything’s okay, Mills.”

Then he snuggles up to my side, drapes an arm over my chest, and rests his cheek against my shoulder.

I kept waking up to slide the little pulse ox clip onto his fingertip, put the numbers in my phone.

He’s All-American good-looking, with his wavy dark hair and those pretty blue eyes. And he’s got a nice ass. Big, warm hands. He’s got a dick I love to suck, a throat he’ll groan with if I bite it. But I don’t really know him.

He’s got his cello in its stand beside his dresser. It seems crazy to me that he plays the cello. How did I not know before that day he drove me home? Because he doesn’t play when you’re around.

“Who are you,” he says softly, “and where is Ezra?”

“I’ve been watching over you all night.”

“Are you my guardian angel now?” “Yeah.” I peer up at him. “You saying you do...

“I’m saying I don’t think I know the serv...