Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

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.