Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

“I don’t want you to.”

His cheek presses against my shoulder. “You’ve gotta tell me if it gets to be too much.”

“If what does?”

I can feel him exhale slowly. “Me.”

I lace my fingers through the hand I’ve been massaging. “You could never be too much. Could never be anything but just right. Everything that I was wanting but I didn’t even know it. Never let myself think of it. I figured I wouldn’t find someone till I left Fairplay. If then. Last time I saw Arnie, he told me he’s hooking up with lots of people up at Bama. One-after-the-other style. I didn’t want that. Never have. Does that sound stupid?” I ask in a burst of insecurity.

“Of course not.” He hugs me closer. Inhales...lets the breath out. “I don’t want that either.” He looks behind us. “You think anybody’s around?”

“Nah.”

His eyes find mine, and they look wide, maybe uncertain. “You care if I use your lap as my pillow?”

“Go for it.”

He does. He lies down so he’s looking up at me, and I start playing with his hair the way I know he likes. Just these light tugs, and then massaging his head with my fingertips.

He takes my other arm and wraps it around him.

“Noticed no nightmares again last night,” I whisper.

He smiles up at me—a gentle little smile. “You’re good for me.”

“I don’t think I do much.”

“You do so much,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my leg. He likes to hold onto me.

“My mom’s religious,” he says softly, after some time. “She can’t find out.”

“About us?” I ask. “Or about you?”

“Either,” he says.

“You mean ever—or like, near future?”

“Ever.” It sounds so definitive, I’m surprised.

“You still talk to her and stuff?” I ask him.

“No.” His eyes shut as he says it.

“Not at all?”

“She calls sometimes,” he whispers. “I try to answer one of every four. Just tell her basics. So she thinks I’m okay.”

“And are you okay, angel?”

“Yeah.” He curls against me more. “Don’t be scared about that, Mills.”

“I am scared. I’m really scared of something happening to you.”

“Nothing will happen.”

“Those pills scare me,” I manage.

“You want me to toss them?”

“I don’t know. What if you need them?”

“I won’t need them.”

“You might need the Xanax.”

“Not the other ones. I never needed them to start with.”

“Why do you have them?” I’ve waited weeks and weeks to broach this subject again. I don’t want to make him feel pushed. “You don’t have to tell me,” I say quickly.

I feel him drag a breath in. He sits up. “It’s okay.” He looks at me and then down at the sand, as he crosses his legs. He looks at me again, holding my eyes. I can tell he’s gonna spill some deets, so I put my hand on his knee.

“My mom sent me somewhere. Last year,” he says softly. “She thought I was gay. She didn’t want that. So, she sent me to…this boarding school.” He blows a breath out. “It…wasn’t a good experience.”

Now his gaze breaks from mine, dipping down to his lap. “I ended up in the hospital.”

I frown, not understanding.

He looks at me like he’s trying to tell me the whole story—just with his face. He says, “I don’t want to take that stuff.”

My heart is racing as I urge him back down into my lap. It’s all I can do to keep my voice steady as I ask, “Do you feel good without it? It’s okay to take meds if you need to.”

He nods. “Better without.” He sits up again. “You lie down,” he whispers. I do—I lie on my back—and he lies on his side, so that he’s facing me, his cheek propped in his palm. He runs his hand under my shirt and then around my side, holding my hip. His hand comes back over my belly.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Not as cut as yours.” My lips twitch.

“You’re perfect.” He gets between my legs and kisses my throat, holds my face in his hands. “Every fucking freckle...” He gives my cheeks little, soft kisses. He kisses my temple. “Your soft hair. Wavy hair.” He kisses my forehead. “That’s why I hated you, you know,” he whispers, looking down into my eyes. “Too perfect. Tempting. Something that I couldn’t have. And shouldn’t want.” He kisses my mouth lightly. “But I wanted you. So fucking bad. It was fucking me up. So I started messing with you.”

He moves down me, kissing my shoulder. “I still regret it.” He moves lower, lifting up my shirt to kiss around my navel. “You deserve the best.” He looks up at me, and there’s something in his eyes—or on his face. I don’t know what it is, but he looks sad.

I reach down, ruffling his hair. “I forgive you, angel. You are the best.”

“When we get to college, if you want another—”

“What the fuck?” I pull him to me. “Angel.” I urge him to lie over me, so we’re face to face. “I don’t want another guy. In college, it’ll be like right now. But we’ll be in college.” I grin. “More time alone. Someone needs to get an apartment and we can live there all the time.”