Scandalous (Sinners of Saint Book 4)

  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.”

  “No, I…” I started again, but he grabbed my jaw in his hand, tilting my head so our noses almost brushed we were so close.

  “Was there a question mark in my sentence? I don’t think so. Save me the bullshit about your mom and dad, Edie. You’re not them. And you’re not driving some unreliable piece of junk. You’ll be taking an Uber. End of story.”

  I smiled, knowing he wasn’t going to get his way. Not that day, and not ever. I was no pushover. Not when it wasn’t about Theo. I opened the passenger door, stepping out and leaning against his window, like I had in the reservoir. His Wayfarers were already on.

  “Hey, Trent?”

  “What?” he nearly growled.

  “About Sundays. I get to decide what we do with Luna.”

  “Absolutely not. We can’t be seen together, Edie.”

  “I’ll make sure we’re discreet.”

  “No.”

  “Was there a question mark at the end of my sentence?” I played our game again, where we threw each other’s words at one another like boomerangs. “I get to decide what we do.”

  He sighed, kicking the car into drive. “Such a fucking headache,” he said.

  “Drive safe, sane, and consensual.” I tapped on his car’s roof and walked away. I thought I heard him laughing behind me, but I didn’t turn around to check.

  Instead, I closed my eyes and imagined that his voice was a wave.

  I rode it all the way to a smile.

  “IS ANYTHING WRONG?” SONYA ASKED.

  Same old sweet, warm office, but now all I got was a cold shoulder. My fingers were laced together on her desk, my don’t-fuck-with-me face on full display. Luna was outside, playing with Sydney. Sonya had sent her away, and I knew exactly why. Luna and I had gone through the motions of another futile session—but that was to be expected—and I’d even told Sonya about the sign language class we’d gone to and how we’d learned practical signals, like I’m hungry, I want to go home, and I’m uncomfortable, which Luna had already used a few times and I was able to read—albeit fucking slowly.

  The only thing that didn’t sit right with Sonya was the fact I hadn’t called her in a couple of weeks. My sexual appetite wasn’t satisfied. Not by a fucking long shot. In fact, I’d never suffered from such an extreme case of blue balls. But what could I possibly tell my child’s therapist? That I didn’t want to tap her ass anymore because I was too busy eating and fingering someone almost half my age, who’d recently added to her collection of stolen items my ancient cell phone, my iPad, and every piece of crap document I’d kept in my glove compartment?

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I hissed.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Luna has responded pretty well to the sign language class, and she is spending more time with the work chick.” Sonya knew about Edie. Knew that the girl who’d caught us fucking was making friends with Luna. Sonya was cautiously in favor of the relationship, liking the idea of Luna enjoying the company of someone else, but worried that Edie wouldn’t understand the consequences of suddenly pulling away and ignoring Luna when she went off to college, got a new boyfriend, or fuck knows what. Fortunately, I’d blocked the boyfriend issue. She wasn’t going to date anytime soon.

  Sonya leaned back in her chair and pursed her lips, oozing bad vibes. “You haven’t invited me over in a while.”

  She could file this complaint alongside Amanda, who hadn’t had a phone call recently, either. As with everything I did, it wasn’t personal. It was just that there was only one person I wanted to roll between my sheets right now.

  “Things have changed.” I snapped my gum, my gaze hard and bored.

  “How so?”

  “I’m seeing someone.” Blunt lie, but hey, lies were what kept this world running. I wasn’t seeing Edie. I was merely watching her lust-drunk face as I ate her out and fingered her sweet, tight ass. At the same time, Sonya was no longer needed by me and I had to let her go. Our no-strings-attached relationship had reached its expiration date. It was time to move on.

  “Oh.” The therapist perked up in her seat, her eyebrows shooting so high up her hairline, they almost disappeared. “Do I know her?”

  “Why would you?” I bit out. Fine. Maybe I was a little defensive because Edie was barely legal and the idea of being a cradle snatcher rubbed me the wrong way. I bit the inside of my cheek thinking about how illicit we were, felt, looked. The tan, ripped man and the petite blonde teenager.

  “Come on, Trent. You hardly get out of the house. And I bet you anything in my savings account you don’t have the Tinder app. How did you meet?”

  “Work.”

  “She’s in finance?”

  Not even close. I cocked my head sideways. “Something like that. I trust this doesn’t change your commitment to Luna?” I tried to sound courteous and keep the edge off my voice.

  Sonya frowned at this, reaching across her cluttered desk to tap my hand. “Absolutely not. I am one hundred percent committed to your daughter, and about eighty percent happy for you.”

  “Eighty?” I quirked a brow.

  “The other twenty is mostly jealous and bitter.” She laughed. I almost smiled at that.

  After the session, I put Luna in her car seat and drove aimlessly for a while. It was too early to go back home and start our bedtime routine, and Luna liked small places, where she could watch, but not be seen. I didn’t know what it was about Edie that infuriated me. Maybe it was the fact that our introduction had started off with her trying to steal from my mother. Maybe because her dad was a racist, and I thought—hoped, even, because that would make things so much easier—that perhaps she was one, too. Or was it the fact that I knew she was after me—after my shit, after my secrets, after my neck?

  Well, things had gotten out of hand.

  And I hadn’t stopped them.

  I should have, but I hadn’t.

  She was eighteen. That was good. She was legal.

  That was also bad. She was still too young to understand what all this meant.

  If my daughter met a man twice her age and decided to be with him, I’d be losing my shit and going Gran Torino on his ass without so much as a blink.

  Luckily for me, Edie didn’t have a loving father. She had Jordan Van Der Zee.

  Luna kicked my seat, and I snapped my eyes to the rearview window, frowning.

  “What’s up?”

  She pointed at something outside the window. I shifted my gaze to see what she wanted. “Ice cream shop? Yeah, not happening.”

  Two kicks. Then one more for the road.

  “No junk food, kid. You know the drill.”

  I was good at the technical stuff. I fed her a nutritious, well-balanced diet, made sure she got plenty of sleep, and the appropriate kind of intellectual stimulation. It was the personal stuff I was hopeless with.

  Luna waved her tiny hands like she was screaming, making her point, and it occurred to me that she’d never tried to communicate with me like this before. Actively. A bullet of thrill shot to my stomach. It may have not looked like a breakthrough, but it felt like one. I found myself tapping my fingers on my steering wheel, trying to contain my excitement. The smile I was biting down was slipping out.

  “Are you hungry, or just in the mood for something sweet?” I asked, my eyes glued to the rearview mirror. She huffed and threw one hand in the air, looking at me like I was an idiot.

  “Sweet tooth, then. If you were hungry, you’d have kicked until you broke my back.”

  Her smile was slight, but it was there. It was intoxicating.

  I wanted to write her something. Something good. Something that would make Sonya proud.

  Luna, Luna, Luna.

  My tangled maze.

  Show me the way to your beginning and your end.

  To the exit point.

  To your pure little soul.

  “I’m going to make a suggestion, if I may.” I sniffed, rubbing my face with my hand t
o hide my stupid grin.

  She shook her head, smirking. This time, I couldn’t help it. I laughed. My daughter had a fucking sense of humor, and it was lit.

  “Little brat. It was a figure of speech. I wasn’t really asking. There’s a churro stand by our building. They also sell cinnamon pretzels. You’ve never had a churro, have you?”

  She shook her head again.

  “Well, we need to rectify that before social services takes you away from me for denying you everything good in this world. But—if you have a churro today, you don’t get any junk food until next week. That includes Sunday with Edie, and I don’t know what she’s got planned for us.”

  Her eyes. Her fucking eyes. They looked like mine and they ignited like fireflies at night. They looked like the eyes of any four-year-old kid. Hopeful. She kicked steady, fast, eager kicks to my seat.

  “Is this about the churro or about Edie?”

  One kick.

  “Kick once if it’s the churro, two if it’s Edie.”

  Kick, kick. I sat back, brushing the steering wheel, feeling calm for the first time in years.

  “Yeah, she’s going to come over on Sunday and spend some time with us. Hey, why does she call you Germs?”

  I knew why, but wanted to try to get her to talk to me.

  Luna looked perplexed. I’d stopped asking her questions which required her to talk or elaborate long ago. My mother said I was killing her with kindness by letting her not speak. I usually retorted that she had enough shit getting asked and poked by other people for me to nag her, too. I saw the wheels in Luna’s head turning. She was trying to figure out how to communicate to me. Usually she’d ignore me and move on. But for the first time ever, she wanted to tell me. Someone honked their horn behind us. I’d been too deep in the moment and had missed the green light. I didn’t give a fuck. The car lurched forward and swerved around us just as Luna opened her palms and waved them around.

  “You…danced?”

  She shook her head, looking annoyed. She put her hands near her face and made a disgusted sound.

  “You’re dirty?” I tried, pretending like Edie hadn’t told me the night she’d babysat.

  Talk, Luna. Talk. I’ll take anything, not just words. Not just gestures. Any. Fucking. Thing. Then maybe we both wouldn’t be so fucking lonely in that big penthouse.