His wet finger traveled along my pussy and toward my ass, and I instantly clenched there, but didn’t want to be the chicken to pull away before he tried anything. Plus, his mouth devouring me was the best thing to ever happen to my body since surfing.

“Ever tried anal?” he asked. His finger prodded at my hole, drawing lazy circles around it. It felt…funny, but not bad. It tickled and was oddly teasing. I swallowed, shaking my head, my eyes still shut.

“You will by the time I’m done with you. Got your pussy slapped?” His finger pushed into my puckered hole, just an inch, but he plunged into my pussy with his tongue at the same time, making me roar in desire and lust and causing my legs to quiver.

“No,” I admitted.

“Yeah, that’s gonna happen, too. How about ice cubes?”

“Y-yes!” I breathed out, as he thrusted his tongue in and out of me, penetrating me in a way that felt rougher than actual sex. I was drenched, and not from the ocean. I shoved his head deeper between my thighs, not caring about the consequences, and he, in return, pushed his entire finger inside me and curled it upward, his smile against my hot, warm skin making me burn like bonfire. My climax gripped every bone of my body, shaking me in slow, intense waves and making my teeth chatter. Oh my God. Oh, my God. I didn’t know this could feel so powerful. So crazy. I was…full.

“Of course, you tried ice,” he murmured into my pussy, laughing evilly. “I bet that’s why Bane said you weren’t vanilla. You’re not only vanilla, you’re vanilla and gluten-free. Repeat after me: safe, sane, and consensual, Edie.”

The orgasm was slamming into me like whiplash. Again and again. It took me a few moments to realize I was experiencing multiple orgasms for the first time in my life. They were all equally intense, and I was beginning to wonder what it was about Trent that made me feel like I was burning from the inside out. Bane was good in bed. He was great, actually.

But he didn’t set me ablaze only to turn his back on me once the tongues of fire consumed me.

He didn’t ignite in me the need to do and say crazy things.

“Say it,” Trent raised his head, staring at me intently with his livid eyes, his mouth glistening with my juices. My eyes traveled down from his face to his veiny, muscular forearm, his arm disappearing between my legs as his finger was still shoved inside my ass.

“Safe, sane, and consensual, Edie,” I repeated cheekily.

“This,” he said, hovering over me, his lips almost touching mine. All of a sudden, he was close, too close. Close to my face. Close to my body. Close to my heart. His finger slid out of me slowly and teasingly, and a final tremor washed over my relaxed limbs. “This is why I know that you’re mine, Edie. Your body is already mine. Your pussy belongs to me, your ass is halfway there, and the rest…” He smirked, the lust churning in his irises making him look devilishly sinister. “The rest I don’t fucking care about.”

His eyes dropped to my lips, which were sealed, and closed, and not open for business. He may have been great in bed, but he was right. Kissing wasn’t a part of the package. Not because of some Hollywood movie bullshit, but because there was nothing intimate in what we were. In fact, when it came to our hearts and minds, we kept as much distance as we could from one another.

Trent’s mouth parted, and for a minute I thought he was going to say something more. Worse, I thought he was going to kiss me. His plush lips almost touched mine before he got up and slid out of the vehicle, turning his back to me and giving me time to slide my bikini bottoms back on.

Outside, he grabbed the surfboard leaning against the vehicle.

“I’ll take you home.”

“What?” I snort-laughed, catching up with his step. “You can’t be seen with me.”

“I have tinted windows. Plus, your father is out of town. If you don’t strap your board on the roof, we’re good. We need to talk.”

We walked over to his building. He carried my surfboard all the way there, then tucked it into his car, and I had to remind myself that he wasn’t a gentleman. In the car, he had one hand on my bare thigh, squeezing it while his eyes were on the road. I loved being there with him. Everything smelled like him. Clean, expensive with a bite of forbidden. Of something dirty and sexy. Luna’s booster behind us was the only reminder that he was a dad. Everything else about him felt like a reckless single man. A single man who wanted to destroy me.

“So what’s with Luna’s mom?” I probed. It wasn’t even about him. I knew he was very much on the market. I just tried to wrap my head around leaving your kid and never looking back.

“That’s not what I want to talk about.” His voice was steel.

“Tough luck, Rexroth, because you don’t control every aspect of this relationship,” I said, pretending to look out my window at the beach town we lived in when really, all I wanted was to catch him in my peripherals.

“Luna’s mom bailed on our asses when my daughter was a year old. I’ve been looking for her since.” His tone was direct and businesslike. I enjoyed this side of him. The side that gave me something without feeling wounded or annoyed for his ego.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you looking for her? She obviously doesn’t want to be found.”

He shook his head, one hand on the steering wheel, the other still kneading my thigh. It was difficult to concentrate with him touching me. I was barely able to decipher his words while he was simply there, all man, and muscle and cocky attitude, never mind when he was touching me. But I was too turned on to make him stop.

“It’s complicated.”

“Why?” I persisted.

“Because everyone needs a mom.”

“Depends on the mom,” I said vacantly.

“Not really,” he said.

“Trust me on that one.” I chuckled, looking away, this time for real.

After a stretched beat, he began to talk again. “Tell me why you need so much money, Edie. Tell me why your dad makes sure you’re broke. Why you hate money like it wronged you.”

How could I tell him without somehow trying to justify my still living with my parents? I should’ve moved long ago. I didn’t want to live on the streets, and I didn’t know anyone who was crazy enough to piss off Jordan Van Der Zee and allow me to live with them. Well, other than Trent Rexroth. The truth meant admitting that I was completely bent and owned by my father.

“That’s not what I want to talk about,” I echoed his rejection from earlier.

“Tough luck, Van Der Zee, because you don’t control every aspect of our relationship.” A bitter smile found my lips. His hand traveled up between my thighs, now covered by short shorts, and he started rubbing my sensitive spot, making me clench and groan.

“Okay.” I sucked in a shaky breath, still delirious from my previous orgasms this morning. “In short, Jordan has something on me. Something that gives him a lot of power over my life.”

“Is it something you’ve done?” he asked.

I thought about it objectively. “No.”

“Can it be changed?”

“In theory, yes. But in practice, he has too much power to ever lose that kind of legal battle. And besides, I have some stuff going on at home. My mom…” I didn’t know why I was confiding in Trent, but maybe it was because I had no one else to talk to. “She’s suffering from mental health issues. Cutting ties with Jordan would mean cutting ties with her by association. She is too weak. And she needs me.”

“So you’re raising one parent and trying not to get destroyed by another,” he clarified, his tone dry and emotionless. I inwardly winced at the way he put it, but luckily, his hand between my thighs made it a lot less depressing than it really was.

“Accurate.”

He pulled into a gas station and yanked his wallet from the center console.

“I’m getting coffee. Want some?”

I shook my head. “Coconut water would be great, though.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Fucking rich hippie.”

The moment he was gone, his hand no longer on my clit, my mind kicked into overdrive. What was I doing, talking to him about personal things? And what was I doing, getting closer to him when I should be using him?

Dazed and confused, I jerked open the glove compartment that looked almost bionic in the Tesla, knowing I had to bring my father something for next week, anything. The flash drive required more time, but I could still show him I’d done my due diligence.

I yanked an old cell phone—the kind of Nokia people used to play Snake on—and a stack of business cards I didn’t even bother reading. Some of them ought to be useful for Jordan. I shoved the treasures into my backpack, feeling the back of my neck get sweaty as shame overflowed in my gut. I was going to hell for doing this. But I would take a million hells to spend this lifetime with Theo.

Trent came back with one coffee and one bottle of coconut water, handing me my drink. He buckled his seat belt and backed out of his parking space, looking casual and untroubled. I couldn’t look at him the rest of the way, and he must have sensed the shift in the mood because he didn’t touch me anymore.

When he parked in front of my house, he turned to face me. Staring into his eyes felt like playing Russian roulette with five bullets in the chamber.

“From this day on, you spend time with Luna and Camila on Tuesdays and your Sundays are mine.”

“What about Luna?”

“She’s a package deal. We’ll spend the day with her, and when it’s her bedtime, it will be ours, too.”

I caught my lower lip between my upper teeth, dragging it slowly as I watched him. I was getting entangled in him. I knew I should stop.

“Okay.” Stupid Edie. Stupid mouth. Stupid lust.

“Today, in the office, I am going to install the Uber app on your phone through my credit card. This will be your mode of transportation until your car gets fixed. No more fucking Bane and no more fucking Bane.”