Page 98 of Wrath

Ezra

“Hey…” Something soft plays in my hair. “We have to go soon.”

DG.

“Already got a shower, tried to let you sleep,” he murmurs.

Oh shit!The hospital!I grab his hand, bring his palm to my mouth, brush my lips against it.

Then I let his hand go, make myself sit up. Shit, I’m sore—like I’ve been in the same position for the whole damn weekend.

“Did I sleep all night?” I frown around his room.

“Just about,” Mills says. “You stirred a time or two, but no real waking up.”

“Damn. I don’t remember waking up.” Is that really possible?

“That’s good,” he says softly.

I allow myself to look up at Mills. Blue eyes under a mop of wavy, dark brown hair…freckles on his cheeks…those soft lips that I like to lick and nip. My dick twitches, which makes me laugh—an awkward, husky sound.

Is this shit real?

Mills drops down beside me, wraps an arm around my back, and presses my face to his shoulder.Warm Miller. I wait for him to say something, or do something, but he doesn’t. He’s just holding me against him. Letting me wake up.

“You smell good,” I whisper.

“It’s just soap.” I hear him smiling.

I kiss his throat. He kisses my lips—a little brush of his mouth on mine. I kiss him back and deepen it, because I love the way his tongue feels. Kissing him is so much better than I ever knew it would be.

He pulls away to smile at me and whisper, “You’re an amazing kisser.”

I feel my ears burn. “You are.” Then I get up fast, before this goes too far. “I’ll be back.”

I shower quick and throw on black jeans and an old Johnny Cash T-shirt with some black chucks. My hair is still damp when I walk into his room, finding him lying on his back on the little brown love seat beside his dresser.

He sits up when he sees me, giving me a small smile.

“Ready, Millsy?”

He gives me a funny little narrowed-eyed look, like he’s jokingly objecting to the nickname.

“What? I can’t call you Millsy?”

“I don’t know.” He gives a quiet sigh as he gets up. “I guess I’ll accept it.” He means to tease, but his energy is too downbeat for that. He’s quiet as he gets his keys and wallet off his dresser, scoops his phone off the duvet.

Shit, I guess he must be feeling down.

Of course he is. Fuck.

“Let’s get some lunch on the way,” I say as we start down the stairs. “What do you like?”

“No lunch.”

I look back at him. “How come?”

“I have to get an MRI…or I might? My mom forgot to tell me, or maybe she didn’t know. I got an automated text last night, though. Telling me don’t eat.”

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