Wrath: A Sinful Secrets Romance, page 48
“After I left?” His voice is low and hoarse.
I squeeze his hand. “Yeah.”
Then I’m turning into my apartment parking lot. I’m parking in the shadows, and he’s hugging me so tight and hard, it almost hurts. His lips brush my cheek and my temple. He drops little kisses on my jaw.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Miller.”
I hug him back. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” I run my fingers into his hair. “I don’t blame you. Not at all.” I pull away so I can see his face, and I’m surprised to see tears on his cheeks. “Not even one percent, Ez.”
He nods. I hug him again. I’m hugging Ezra. “You wanna tell me your stuff inside?” I ask quietly. “Let’s go to the couch again, or to the bed.”
“You’ve gotta change those pants, Millsy.” I feel him smile.
We walk up the steps, not holding hands this time, but when we reach my level, his hand grabs mine and holds tight as I unlock the door for us.
Inside, I tell him to get himself a drink or whatever he wants, and I step into the bathroom to wash up and change my clothes. When I get out, I find him on the couch, holding a photo that I realize he got from the fridge.
It’s him and me. Ezra is behind me—wrapped around me—and he’s smiling like he’s so damn happy. I’ve got my head leaned slightly back against him, and I look downright blissful.
I don’t even realize Ezra’s emotional until he wipes at his eyes. He does it quick, discreet, so I don’t ask about it, just sit on the couch beside him, wrap my arm around him, and lean my cheek against his shoulder.
“Hey, angel. You found my discreet fridge shot?”
He smiles, or he tries to. He seems drop dead tired, and his eyes are looking puffy. “Yeah. Noticed you had it on the side between the fridge and cabinets.”
“Sometimes I couldn’t look,” I manage.
He runs both his hands into my hair, cupping my face, and then he kisses my lips—so soft and gentle. He gives me a sad smile. “We looked happy.”
“We were.”
He sucks in a deep breath, looking down, and I take his hand. “Come to my bed, angel. Let’s turn off the lights and turn on this light machine we used to like. Plus, I think you owe me a story.”
* * *
Ezra
I tell Miller everything, there in the quiet comfort of his bed. I have to force myself to do it.
His face goes still and somber when I tell him about taking the whole bottle of Xanax in my dorm room. I decide that I won’t tell him what exactly set me off—me seeing him with that blond guy in Tuscaloosa. When I tell him about my head-fucked trip to see Luke McDowell, his eyes are huge, but by the end—the part where I tell him I’m now friends with Luke and Vance—he’s grinning, shaking his head, saying, “Only you.”
Somehow, that becomes a segue into his celebrity story—about Dom Bryant. Mills seems anguished when he tells it to me, but I’m not upset. If anything, it makes me feel good to know he turned down pseudo porn star sex while drunk at a bar—because he was still hung up on me. Me, who left him almost a year before. I ask him about it, and he looks almost embarrassed.
“Loyal guy,” he mutters, rolling over, giving me his back in the bed. I climb over him, stretch out in front of him, and kiss his freckled cheek. “My guy.”
It turns out to be pretty funny, because I find out Miller didn’t know what OnlyFans was until his friend Jenna told him, in a convo about Dom Bryant.
“How did you know?” he asks, looking skeptical.
“I might be fucked up, Millsy, but I’m not dead.”
“You’re not fucked up.” He wraps himself around me, urging me onto my back, and then he lies on top of me, dropping gentle kisses on my cheeks as he smirks down at me. “So, you jerking it to OnlyFans porn, angel?”
“I don’t think it’s always porn,” I tell him.
Miller hoots, then grins down at me. “Is that a yes?”
“I’m jerking it to screen shots of you doing bench presses. And when I couldn’t do that anymore, I stopped.”
As soon as I say that, I wish I could unsay it. What a downer. But Mills murmurs, “I sorta stopped too.”
“Because of me?”
His lips press flat, and he looks away.
I reach up and give his cheek a gentle slap. “Just say it, bitch.”
He tugs my hair. “It’s because of you, bitch. Because you left me, and I fucking needed you.”
He’s giving me this funny evil eye face, so when a tear falls from his face down onto mine, it hits me like a kick in the gut.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
I roll us onto our sides and wrap him with my arms and legs, and hold him tight while he wipes at his eyes. I can feel his chest jerk like he’s crying.
“I’m not mad,” he says, all choked and teary. “I’m sad this happened to us. And I’m sad it’s all because we’re gay.” His voice is a soft, bitter rasp. “Why does no one fucking value us?”
I rub my hand over his back. “Who doesn’t value you, my Miller?”
I don’t know who goes for whom first, but we end up kissing, our mouths salty from his tears. Between fast, hard, urgent kisses, I whisper things I think might make him feel good.
“Such a king…”
“I love you…”
“Gay is the way…”
That makes him laugh.
“I don’t know how you’re so strong,” he whispers, as we both pant between going at it.
I kiss him again, nice and deep, my dick throbbing in my pants. “I’m not. Just doing my best impression.”
I choke out a laugh. Then we’re rolling all over the bed, kissing the shit out of each other again.
“You’re gorgeous,” he pants.
“You are. You’re my prince with freckles.”
“Are you sleeping beauty then?” Mills whispers.
“I was till I found you.”
We end up lying on our sides facing each other, rubbing our dicks together. We’re both thrusting our hips and panting, trying to kiss and also jerk off with two dicks and four unsteady hands. At one point, I laugh, but then Mills catches our cockheads in his hand. He rubs his palm over the tips of them, then squeezes, as his other hand rubs our shafts together. I cup his balls, and he starts panting pretty loud.
“Look at that fat cock,” I rasp, glancing down at him. “I wanna see that pretty cock blow.”
I’m about to come, but I don’t wanna blow before him. I add a hand to the mix. We’re both groaning as we try to work the both of us.
“Fuck,” he moans.
I grab his cock, thumbing the groove under the flanged head. I stroke that spot, and Miller’s hips jerk.
“Fuck my hand, Miller. Lemme feel you come.” My other hand pushes his balls aside and prods the warm, soft spot where I want to put a finger. I’m teasing him there as he grabs my balls.
“Look at me,” he grunts out.
I look at him.
“Wanna see your face.”
I lean over close to kiss him. His body shudders as our lips brush, and his cock spurts warmth all over me. I use it as lube, slathering it all over my shaft. Miller bites my throat, and it’s my turn to get messy.
Once my heart rate returns to normal, Miller kisses my cheek. I kiss his mouth again. “That was so good.”
“You want to get a shower?” he whispers.
“Let’s do it.” I’m tired as fuck, but I don’t want to waste a moment with him. He looks sleepy in the bathroom light, too.
“Sorry I’ve kept you up tonight.”
“Are you kidding?” He slaps my soapy pec. “So worth it,” he says.
I soap up his junk because I’m evil, giving Mills a semi. I fuck with him till his legs won’t hold him and he’s on his back in the tub, spreading his knees, lifting his ass so his dick bounces. I use the soap to give him the one thing I haven’t yet—besides my dick: a finger.
Fuck, he’s perfect. Dark hair slick with water as he leans his head back, his cock jutting straight up, bobbing as I stroke it. His slim hips are pumping, bringing my finger deeper into his warm, soft hole. I add a second finger, and he’s flat on his back, his hands fisted as the shower pounds down on him and he sucks in steamy breaths.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” Mills lifts his knee, and I start humping it, just as a joke at first, but I’m so hard, we end up coming at the same time. Then we’re both laughing.
“Why is this so funny?” Miller asks.
I help him up. “I don’t know. You look so damn cute all the time. It makes me happy,” I confess in a whisper.
“You make me happy, too, angel.” His hand strokes over my pec. “You look healthy. Like you’re eating okay.”
“I make myself.”
“Fucking good on you, dude,” Mills says.
Then we’re getting out, and I remember the drawer.
“I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but can I babysit that pile of Xannies?” I ask as he towels his hair. “Thinking of you taking street shit scares me.”
“Thinking of you babysitting them scares me,” he laughs.
“God, we’re so fucked.”
“Let’s just flush them,” Josh says.
“No, we can’t. The fish!” I explain about the fish, and he nods slowly.
“Then let’s bury them,” he suggests. “Outside. We can go walking when we wake up in a little while, and pick a pine tree.”
“Then we’re poisoning some chipmunk.”
“Hell.” He makes a face. “What do you wanna do then, Einstein?”
“Maybe I’m more an Aristotle.”
As soon as I say it, my legs turn to Jello. Mills can tell. His eyes widen and he reaches for me as I grip the counter. I put my palms against the cool, damp countertop, hanging my head down as I pull deep, slow breaths into my lungs. Everything feels like it’s moving too fast.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”
He hugs me lightly from behind.
“Who said that?” I groan. “Which one of us?”
“I did,” he whispers. “We were on the roof.”
I feel sick. Like I might get sick.
“Miller?” I rasp.
“Yeah, angel?”
“Let’s lie down. I’m tired.”
“Okay. Let’s go to sleep, Ez. It’s been a long—wonderful—night.”
As my head hits his pillow, I feel like I’m falling through a vortex. Miller’s arm comes over me. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Rest.”
And so I do.
Ten
Josh
I wake up feeling so good. Fingers stroking through my hair and Ezra's arms around me. I lie still, relishing the dream while I dread opening my eyes. Then I remember with a rush—it’s real.
Ezra’s here. He’s in my bed. I reach up to wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him down on me as my heart pounds with excitement.
His low voice vibrates as he lays his cheek on my chest. "Hey there, Millsy."
“Hey, angel.”
His hand tunnels into my hair. “You sleep okay?”
“Yeah.” My throat cinches with emotion, but I swallow and move past it. “Did you?”
He smiles down at me. “Those sleepy eyes.” His smile is so big. So…real.
I lean up while pulling him down, kissing his temple. “You wore me out, Ez.”
“Damn straight.”
“It was honestly really gay.”
He laughs softly.
“So you’ve been here watching me sleep?” I grin up at him.
He grins back, looking slightly abashed. "Is that stalkery?"
"Can't stalk someone who's obsessed with you.”
I play with his hair, loving how his head feels under my hand. Jesus, I love everything about him. Every single fucking thing. I look at his face—Ezra’s face—and I see nothing but the guy I love. I want to tell him nothing could change how I feel about him, but instead I whisper, “Let’s get up and go do something. I don’t want to miss a moment before you leave.”
"Go back to sleep now if you want to.” He wraps me in his arms. “I’ll stick around."
I decide I'll argue, but the next time I open my eyes, my room is bathed in bright gold sunlight and he's sitting cross-legged on the bed beside me. He's got his borrowed ball cap on backwards, along with a funny little smirk.
"What're you doing?" I ask, my voice sounding sleep-rough.
He slides underneath the covers with me, and he kisses my jaw.
"Got you something,” he says, looking sweet and smug.
I can’t resist kissing his cheek. "What's that?"
"I'll show you. But..." His arm slides in between us, his hand rubbing my bulge. "I see you've got me something, too." Pretty soon he's pushing my briefs down. He's underneath the covers blowing me. When he's done swallowing, I try to go for him, and he laughs.
"Did myself while I did you.” He pulls his shirt off, wiping both of us clean. “So you could eat your breakfast sooner."
Ez gives me this shy smile as he reveals a whole gas station bag of different stuff—all things I like. Plus a box of chocolate donuts.
"You used to always get me donuts,” I say.
He winks. “Gotta fatten you up.” We eat the donuts sitting cross-legged on the bed, just staring at each other. He catches me staring, and my cheeks burn. "Now who's creepin'?" I ask, covering my face.
"No one." He drags his fingertip over my bare knee.
We end up showering together, and I run my hands all over his beautifully sculpted body.
“A work of art,” I murmur.
“A work of the gym.”
We kiss and almost end up going at each other again, but Ezra pulls me up against him and holds me for so long I think he needs that more.
"I don't want to leave today,” he murmurs.
"I don't want you to either.” I press my cheek against his. “I've got an idea. What if I ride up with you and take the bus home? We could talk in the Jeep. And I could see where you live. Even if it's just the outside of the building. I know you probably have things to do today."
"Are you fucking kidding me, Josh? Please ride up with me. I have nothing to do. A team meeting at 4:30, but then nothing. It's a Sunday. I'd ask you to stay the night, but I bet you've got a class tomorrow."
"Actually, I do. An 8:30, and that professor is a psycho."
"Here's an even weirder idea.” He quirks a brow up. “How would you feel about riding up with me and dropping me off. Then you bring my car back to me in a few days, and after that, I'll drive you back home?"
I think that’s the moment that I know it's going to be okay. That he means all this. Ezra notices me being weird and kisses my cheeks and forehead, and then he gets out of the shower and wraps me in a towel like a little kid.
He wraps another towel awkwardly around my head. "Spa day."
"Is that what they do at the spa?" I tease.
"I don't know. It could be." Ez gives me a funny little grin, and then he scoops me up in his arms. He carries me to bed and lays me on top of my covers and says, "I'll dress you today. All you have to do is call me Daddy.”
He does just that, and it’s crazy charming. Ezra in this new and gentle mode, with all his doting smiles and temple kisses. When he steps into the bathroom, I say, “Scoop the Xannies up. We can seal them in a Ziplock bag and then bury them.”
Ezra borrows some of my clothes, and we head out into a chilly, sunny day together—like the last year never happened. We end up racing each another across the big student parking lot, Ezra running backwards, laughing. Then he spreads his arms out like he’s blocking me, but instead he catches me against his chest and whirls me around. After a while longer laughing, acting like romantics, we pick a spot right at the edge of the science building’s lawn, and I stand in between the road and Ezra as he digs a quick hole with a stick and does the deed.
“Did you really put them there?” I whisper.
“You want me to take them with me?” he asks, looking serious.
“No. Just put them there. I’m not going to dig them up.”
“You sure about that?”
I nod.
* * *
Ezra
Do Gooder. I think it suits him. I can tell, as I drive us toward Tuscaloosa, just how much it bothers him—the way his last year has gone. Somehow, band comes up, and he seems self-conscious as he explains that he’s not in band at Auburn.
“I don’t know why,” he says. “Actually that’s not true. I just didn’t feel it this year. Maybe later.”
It makes him sad. I don’t think I’d be able to read him so well if I hadn’t stalked him so hard on Instagram and Snapchat. But I know a lot of his expressions, and I feel like I have a solid understanding of his personality. I’m not shocked that he feels…maybe like a failure. Like he’s a little unmoored.
I ask him if he feels like he’s found his niche at college, and he laughs and squeezes my hand. “Nah, man. Not even a little. I don’t know what that means about me,” he adds wryly.
“I think it just means you’re normal.”
We talk a little about me and football. How it’s all I’ve had for years—the only anchor, “Except you.”
Mills tells me more about the months before he left for college. More about his car wreck.
“It was scary as fuck,” he says. “And I got in so much trouble. Plus, you know…the lost car.”
He says he tried to put up a good front for his mom and my dad so they’d let him leave for college, but they both felt pretty nervous.
"Rightfully so, I guess,” Mills admits. “I met Daniel and his friends, and…you saw my Snapchat. And when that didn't do the trick—" He takes a deep breath, blows it slowly out. "That’s when I found out how to get Xanax. Hydrocodone sometimes. Just dumb shit. And it's like...I knew it was dumb. But I was desperate, I guess.”
I squeeze his hand, feeling my throat tighten up.
“When school got going, it got worse and worse...a little bit at a time." He rubs his forehead, shutting his eyes.
“Did something set you off, the night you took too much stuff?” I manage, working hard to steady my voice. “What do you think happened?”
