Sinful Secrets Box Set: Sloth, Murder, Covet

by James, Ella

  I laugh as she starts unbuttoning my shirt. “You don’t want to see the rest?”

  “I want to see you,” she whispers. “My home is with you…remember what you said?”

  “I do remember.” She kisses my neck, and then I’m groaning. “Who am I to turn a lady down in her hour of need?”

  I make Finley come until her need has been met, and we both agree I’ve shown her magic.

  Outside, we sit on a swing I don’t even remember seeing when I looked at the house with a realtor, and Finley rests her head against my arm.

  “Does it hurt much today?”

  “No. Hardly at all.”

  “The other?”

  “They both feel pretty good.”

  “It’s the green smoothies.”

  “Oh yeah. Love those things.”

  “They’re very good! You said so.”

  “They are. I mean it. You’ve taken good care of me, and I feel better for it.”

  She wraps her arms around me, and I wrap her up, too. She sighs, the sound a little wistful. “Why are you so good to me, Carnegie?”

  “That’s easy. Because I love you so damn much.”

  Her grip on me tightens. “It’s so strange to be here. And feel this way.”

  “What way?”

  She’s quiet for a minute before she whispers, “Happy.”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of like that for me, too. But let’s not question it, okay?”

  She nods. “You really are my prince. You know you are, right?”

  “I’m not sure I’m much of a prince. But I love you more than anything. I would give you anything I could.”

  “Well, all I really want is you.”

  “That works out pretty well. Because all I want is you.” I look around. “What do you think? You wanna live here when we can? When we don’t have to be in the city?”

  “Yes.” She laughs. “But can we still live in the cabin, too?”

  “I thought we’d stay there for a while longer.”

  “It seems mad to have three homes.”

  I grin. Probably better to wait to tell her about the other ones. “We’ll spend some time in all of them.”

  Her foot hooks around my leg. “Could we go walk in the water?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  We take our shoes off, and we step down off the porch, over the sand, into the cool, blue water.

  “I love it. Even though I was afraid of it,” she says, catching my hand again. “I missed it. How did you know?”

  “I don’t know. Because I know my wife.”

  “Say it again,” she whispers.

  “My wife.”

  She smiles. “My husband. Does it give you a thrill?”

  “Every time.”

  “It really does?”

  “Of course.” I pull her close and lean my cheek against her head. “Being your husband is the most important thing to me. It’s the only thing.”

  “I feel the same,” she murmurs.

  “We’re a team here.”

  “Team one shoe.”

  We stand there for the longest time with our feet submerged and our arms wrapped around each other. I rub her back in circles, the way I know she likes, and Finley kisses my chest. When I’m hard enough to hurt, and Finley’s leaning on me, moaning, as my hand delves into her pants, we stretch out on our new mattress and spend the night there, christening the master bedroom and eating what my shopper stashed in the pantry: Pop-Tarts and wedding cookies.

  In the morning, we drive back to Baby. To our cabin. It’s our secret place, where nothing else can touch us. Even after we move full time to Seattle, I think the cabin will remain my favorite.

  When we pull up in the driveway, there’s our doe and buck. They’re in the front yard this time. When they see the car, they don’t move; they don’t even freeze up. “I guess they just like us now.”

  “They’re always together,” Finley murmurs. “Never any other deer.” She looks down, and then back at me. “Do you think they’ll have a baby one day?”

  “I don’t know.” I laugh. “Do you think they will?”

  “Perhaps.” Her cheeks color.

  And that’s how I know.

  Epilogue

  Finley

  April 1, 2019

  Mummy,

  It’s been a bit of a stretch, hasn’t it? We were talking quite a lot as I would wander through the forest or along the shore last summer and I suppose into the fall…but now things are so busy. I suppose I felt like writing again on a day like today, when it’s rainy and the sky is milk white.

  Also, last night I dreamed of you. It was almost frightfully vivid. We were in a boat, just you and I, and everything was sepia—but a bit warmer and a great deal brighter. You were rowing our boat. After a while, you got out on the shore and went to walk, and you told me to come back any time. Declan had a game I was worried I’d be late for, so…I left you there. I didn’t wake up crying, though. I felt at peace about it. As if you belonged there. That was a change, I suppose.

  I know you know already…but I’d like to formally let you know I got the surname you chose for me. Yes, I’m smiling as I write this. It is a bit funny, isn’t it? It was going to happen one way or the other, so I’ve carried out the family mission. I’m Finley Carnegie now…and Mum, it’s simply glorious.

  Sometimes when I watch him play, or we walk together in the woods with Baby, or I look across a table as we’re at a restaurant, I feel so…happy. Really just joyous. I love him so much. He’s simply perfect for me, despite the odd timing and the tragedy we went through. It’s so wonderful, at times I don’t quite trust it. I’m not sure it’s supposed to feel this good all the time.

  I’m told it can take a bit of time in the light to feel that it’s not odd to be away from darkness. If I feel that way, can you imagine how my prince feels? Oh, but he’s so healthy now. So well and, honestly, I feel he might be happier than I am! I’ve got swollen ankles, after all, while my Sailor is in tip-top condition, strengthening his physique so he looks more demigod than mortal. He just got the starting job, and I can’t tell you how pleased he is. He adores playing. He said he didn’t even know how much until being in full health.

  He played his first game for the Mariners in March. I watched from the family spot, and after, we went out with other players and their families.

  I have friends here. Really, five acquaintances and three dear friends thus far. One is the wife of another player, one a woman I met at yoga, and the third is my astronomy professor. Yes, I’m taking classes at a local college. Just a few for now, to satiate my interest in a few areas.

  I have a business now. As of last week, I’ve got the business license they require here in America. I’m selling pottery to local stores and occupying sales space in some others. It’s called The Siren’s Fin. I’ve got an online shop as well, at Etsy.

  I think you’d love it in Seattle, Mum. Actually, I know you would. It’s so lovely all the time. Even when it’s not, if that makes sense. There can be a lot of traffic, and sometimes it smells like automobile exhaust, but there are petits fours and tacos. Grocery delivery. I buy trinkets for myself when I like: earrings and nail polishes, sleek pens with ink that sparkles. Small things for my Sailor and items for friends at Tristan. There are so many people here, and an absurd percentage of them are lovely. And also…Declan is here. I see why you loved his father. He is so much like his father.

  And he’s getting better. I’m sure you heard me when I talked of that with you. And I do feel it’s better now. He so rarely has the dreams, and sometimes now I sleep behind him, with one arm about his waist. He’s not meeting with Rachel anymore. We’ve both had to find new people in the city. In fact, he’s found someone who specializes a bit in what he needs. It’s gone rather well. One day, all that will pass like gray clouds, leaving only sunshine. But it’s sunny now, in this moment, so who’s complaining?

  Mostly, I suppose I wrote today because I feel more confident than ever
in letting you know that I’m okay now. If you’re watching over me, as I know you must be, please know how well I am, and that perhaps you need not watch with any worry.

  Mummy…our baby is a girl. When she’s born—any day now!—she’ll be named Isla Katherine.

  I never went to the stars, Mummy, but you did. I’m so sorry that you didn’t get away in time; you never got the happy ending you deserved. It still makes me weep sometimes. But I don’t weep as much now. Now I try to simply think of you, and hold you very dear, and live exactly as I feel you’d want me to. When I hold Declan, I know you’d adore him. (Would you be pleased to know his father is seeing someone, as of recently? She runs a charity Charles started with Declan. It’s focused on helping people talk more about their mental health. They’ve been on three dates thus far!)

  What more is there to say? I’m not sure. Baby! She’s doing quite well. In fact, she’s here by me now, prancing about the garden. She’s a big girl now, but still our Baby.

  I’m a bit nervous about the delivery, but not so much. Declan and I learned Lamaze, although I already had some practice from when Anna had Kayti. If I need to, I’ll get the epidural…or I’ll be grateful for the C-section. Serious risks are blessedly low here.

  I pray our baby girl will look like you, and be like you and Gammy. Please tell Gammy I’m so well, and send my love. And please give all my love to Katherine as well. It’s a bit unorthodox, but I know you’re all happy there, as we are here. All this ends well. On our end, I promise it will. I can feel it now, that it’s all going to be well.

  I shriek as something touches my back. I whirl. “Declan!”

  He’s grinning as he looms over the bench where I’m sitting in our garden behind the city house. He’s clad in practice clothes and sporting sweat-crazed hair.

  “What are you doing here?” He’s home nearly three hours early.

  “I don’t know.” He moves around the bench to sit beside me and drapes his arm around my back. “I guess I just missed you.”

  “You think she’s coming today!” He lifts his brows, and I laugh. “You’ve got no chill, Carnegie. Go play baseball.” I hug him even as I say it. “Truly, I missed you, too.” I sniff his shirt and giggle. “You need a shower.”

  “I think you mean we need a shower.”

  We’re wicked as ever in the shower, despite my whale-like state. He’s so ready to be in me, but I so dearly love denying him. He suckles at my swollen breasts and rubs his long, hard sex between my soapy thighs. Then it’s early bedtime for us. How ironic that the best way for us now is with him thrusting from behind, and pillows propped beneath my belly.

  He parts me with his fingers, dips one in and paints me with my slickness. When he pushes in, he’s a bit gentle—and I know why. I giggle at the absurd reason why, and he slaps my backside.

  “Don’t be a naughty Siren, Finley.”

  “Oh, but naughty sirens have the most fun.” I’m laughing till he thrusts, and then I’m gasping. I’m so swollen now, and he’s ever so thick. He fills me so I moan, and drags himself out. Then he pushes back in, and I cry out.

  “Ohh!”

  “You like that?”

  “Yes!”

  He pushes in again, until I’m panting…and then slowly drags out. “You need more?” He rolls his head at my entrance.

  “Oh, please! Don’t tease me.”

  “But I love to tease you.” His hand strokes my spine as I push back against him, urging his sex deeper.

  “I love teasing you,” I whisper.

  “I just love you, Siren.”

  “I love you, my Sailor.”

  He groans. “Love you more.”

  I cry out. “You more.”

  Afterward, as I lie with my pillow propped between my legs, and Declan’s hard, thick body pressed against my softness from behind, I hear the echo of our words.

  I love you…

  I love you more…

  Several hours later, we’re repeating them—through groans and tears—as we welcome our daughter into the world.

  It’s an easy birth. So easy, he has to remind me we’re a one-shoe family.

  “One shoe and one baby and one lamb.”

  “And you and me.”

  He grins, and it’s my favorite kind of grin. A bit shy and a lot kind, keen and assessing and teasing and…just my love.

  That night, we lie in my railed bed together, sniffing Isla’s head and laughing as we ponder whether we should truly be allowed to take her home, I realize something: I am home. Right here with him. It’s true what they say, that home is where the heart is. And my heart is joined to his heart.

  “I love you more,” I smile.

  “You more.”

  It’s raining softly outside. And that’s how we fall asleep.

  * * *

  Turn the page for a sneak peek of Wrath, a Sinful Secrets novel.

  * * *

  If you’re struggling with addiction or mental illness, please be gentle with yourself. In choosing to write about such sensitive topics, I acknowledge that my work could be triggering for some people. If I was reading this book, I would be one of those. Some of my favorite people in the world struggle with addiction, and I have struggled with mental illness. If you need a lifeline, consider calling the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

  Sneak Peek

  Wrath, A Sinful Secrets Novel

  Josh Miller.

  That's his name, but I just call him DG for Do Gooder.

  This guy is relentless. All-American, baby-faced, blue-eyed band dork who's not a band dork at all, because you can't be a dork when you're getting scouted to play college soccer. When he's not busy being musical or sporty, DG is counting up his Boy Scout badges or front-rowing it at the First Baptist church.

  DG is my new stepbrother. Little brother. I'm a whole year older, not that he knows. I don't think he knows I'm starting senior year a whole year late. And he definitely doesn't know why. I've got secrets I'm taking with me to the grave.

  Everyone thinks I came to play varsity football, but I've got other plans, and DG's trying to thwart them all. He's making my life worse than it already is.

  Having him around is a damn plague. But I can fight back. I found out a little secret about perfect Mr. Fairview High School. He plays for the "other" team. That ball bat he's got stuffed into his gray sweatpants--it swings "that" way. The best part about this twisted game is when I find out it gets hard for me.

  The Do Gooder...he wants me. I don't know why. But I know how to make him pay.

  * * *

  Wrath is an emotional, forbidden MM romance that will be the fourth standalone in the Sinful Secrets collection, where each book is inspired by a sin and centered on a devastating secret.

  Continue reading Wrath Summer 2021: books2read.com/EllaJamesWrath

  * * *

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  Author’s Note

  On August 7, 2011, I gave birth to my first child, a beautiful son with a myriad of rare health issues we had no idea about before his birth. I would say my worldview changed forever, but that doesn’t even touch it. No words really can. During R.’s first year of life, doctors told me more than once that he might die. I signed consent forms agreeing to treatments that might hurt my baby even as they helped him. The stress and pain was unimaginable, as any mother of a very ill child knows. I struggled to find a foothold in the madness, but each time we would visit our state’s children’s hospital, my heart felt more broken.

  We befriended a family whose six-year-old daughter had nearly died dozens of times while waiting for a donor heart. Finally, the call came: a heart was on its way. The heart was perfect. Better than most donor hearts, even. But open heart surgery has many risks, and one of them is stroke. When I met this girl and her family, she was in a wheelchair, stricken with mental and physical challenges that
to me seemed unspeakably unfair.

  In our time at the hospital, we met many families with afflicted children—many struggling with congenital heart defects or cancer. Facebook is a game-changer for families of sick children, and through Facebook we connected with another Alabama family whose young daughter was fighting leukemia. Often, we brought R. to the children’s hospital and left the same day, and I remember buckling him into his car seat dozens of times and thinking of the other family, locked up in the bone marrow transplant ward, unable to even leave their child’s room many days.

  There is no way to come to terms with these things. Eventually I realized that, and I stopped trying to make sense of it. My child was alive, and I was joyful. But as months and then years passed, I found myself drawn back to these children’s Facebook pages. Even now, years later, I follow half a dozen children I met when R. was a baby. When possible, I enjoy donating to charities supporting children with congenital heart defects, but I’ve found myself especially drawn to pediatric cancer causes. Two wonderful blogs (and accompanying charities) are www.superty.org and www.rockstarronan.com.

  How many of you will click those links? Probably only a few. And I understand that. No one likes to be sad. But people really hate to be sad over sick or dying children. The unfortunate result of this is that pediatric cancer research receives much less funding than breast, prostate, lung, and other cancers that afflict adults. Less funding means less effective—and less safe—treatments for kids with cancer.