Wrath (Sinful Secrets, #4)

by Ella James

know. Little bit of a bruise…” His fingertip trails lightly over it. He rubs my other shoulder and all down my spine. He’s a fucking masseuse. “Feels good,” I moan.

When he reaches my lower back, he moves back up—all the way up, back behind my ears, where his fingertips move circular and gentle. I’m half asleep when his hand scoops upward

through my hair, ruffling it lightly. Then he’s off the bed. His low voice says, “Gett...

reach under myself, squeezing my dick, which is aching from just his h...

“Hey there, sleeping beauty…”

Your stepbrother is a single man’ Well, fuck me.

“Hey…” His voice is softer than the norm. “You want to go out on the boat or something?” “What?” I snap. Does he read minds now? “I said…would you want to go out in the boat? Get out of here?” “Why?”

“I don’t want to go out with you. I don’t want to be in with you. I’m fucking from here, brother. I have friends. If I want to go somewhere, I’ll call one of them.”

My throat aches as I think of Miller climbing up onto the trestle with me. I can still see his eyes, wide with terror.

And the few times I was so head-fucked, I latched onto him. I remember how his arms would come around me, his hand cupping my head.

"Ezra?” When he doesn’t move, my stomach drops so fucking hard. I crouch beside him. “Hey…”

I touch his shoulder. “Ezra?” His eyes open, peeling wide for a long second. Then he’s sitting up and blinking. “Did I wake you up?”

“Dude, it’s daytime.”

“Oh.”

“You going out?” “Just for a walk.” I shrug. “You know…”

“Cause you don’t wanna go with me?”

“You don’t want to go with me.”

“Don’t pretend,” I say. “You don’t want to be my friend.”

“You never have,” I allege. “All you want to do is fuck with me.”

“It’s all good. Just stay away.”

When I’m there, I realize I feel dizzy and get a glass of water. I’m gulping it down, telling myself not to be embarrassed that I’m weird around someone who’s done all this shit with me—to me—when the dining room door swings open and there he is again.

“In case you needed something,” he says hoarsely. And he’s gone. He’s through the dining room door. Peaced out.

He’s got his hands over his face, and his shoulders are heaving. “Ezra? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he says, but it’s muffled by his hands. He starts off toward the family room, moving with long strides.

“Wait,” I say. His eyes are so wide. He looks different than I’ve ever seen him…but also familiar. It hits me like a fucking space rock:

“You want to walk somewhere with me?” He blinks, looking glassy-eyed, like I just snapped him out of a daydream. “Me?” He frowns. “I—” “You don’t have to.” “I know.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Thanks for coming with me,” I tell him. “You didn’t have to.” He smirks. “Don’t get awkward, Mills. I wanted to come. Nothing like a cemetery.”

“Well that would just be boring, Miller.” “Do you usually call me Miller?” I frown. “Sometimes,” he says. “Millsy. What’s the other thing you say?”

“DG.”

“For Do Gooder.” “Oh, yes. ...

“When did you stop being Josh and become Miller with your friends?” “Maybe when I played peewee?” “Your dad said you pl...

“Still okay?” he murmurs. “You made me do that,” I whisper. “My finger?” “Yeah.” “Sorry.” “Don’t be sorry.”

“I can hear your heart,” he says after a second. “What does it sound like?” I whisper. “Like music. Boom. Boom. Boom.” His

“Good and steady.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me. I still remember your burger order, too. I’m gonna get it for you.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Are you smelling me, Masters? Oh I forgot, you don’t like to be called Masters. Ez.” “Ez,” he rasps.

“I like your hands,” I tell him. God, my heart is beating so hard. “You do?” “Yeah. They’re nice.”

His hand tries to grasp mine.

I put my hand over his and thread my fingers through his, squeezing for a second. “Never jump,” I whisper. “Never fall.” His lips brush my back. He hugs me tight, wrapping himself around me. “You g...

“Smells like you,” he whispers. “Makes sense.” I smile.

he scrawls something on my side. “D…G…D…G.” And then: “GOOD.”

“Hang on.”

hear Ezra’s murmur, but I don’t look up at him; I need to focus. It’s a little harder than I thought it would be, because my muscles are still sapped, but I pull myself back up, climbing up onto the wall so that I’m facing him.

His eyes aren’t hard or soft. It’s like they’re seeking something—from me. “What are you doing?” His voice is a low rasp.

“Looking at you.”

His mouth twitches again, but it’s a sad thing. Not a smile....

I reach out. My hand cups his throat. “Ezra,”