“How much?” She gives me a teasing smile.

“So much,” I say hoarsely. “Like, an insane amount.”

“Good.” She plants a kiss on my lips. “I love you an insane amount, too.”

She lies down beside me, stroking my abs while her lower body slowly rolls against my hip. Damned if that doesn’t get me going again. I might’ve gotten off, but she hasn’t yet. I love being the one to get her there. She makes the hottest noises when she comes apart.

“My turn,” I rasp as I move down her body.

She’s so ready for me it’s not even funny. I get hard again, because the thought of being the first one to slide into her welcoming body is hot enough to melt the entire continent of Antarctica. But I can’t. Not tonight. Not until I know for sure that I’m not going to be locked up for a crime I didn’t commit.

But I can do this instead. Torture her with my mouth and my fingers and make her moan and plead—

“Ella,” a sharp voice commands from behind the door. “Open up.”

She shoves my head away and bolts up as if the bed is on fire. “Oh my God, it’s Steve,” she hisses out.

I sit up, shooting a wary look at the closed door. I locked it, right? Please fucking say I locked—

The doorknob jiggles, but the door doesn’t budge. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Ella,” Steve barks again. “Open the door. Now.”

“One second,” she calls, her tone hasty and her eyes wild with panic.

We hurriedly throw our clothes on, but I don’t think we do a good job of looking put-together, because when she lets Steve in, his gaze turns into a thundercloud.

“What the hell are you two doing in here?”

I arch a brow at the rage in his voice and the redness of his cheeks. I get that he’s Ella’s father, but it’s not like the two of us were filming a porno in here or something. We were just messing around.

“We were…watching TV,” Ella mumbles.

Both Steve and I turn toward the black screen across the room. Steve clenches his fists to his sides before turning back to Ella.

“Your door was locked,” he practically growls.

“I’m seventeen,” she says stiffly. “I’m not allowed to have any privacy?”

“Not this much privacy!” Steve shakes his head. “Is Callum out of his mind?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” comes my father’s dry voice.

Steve spins around to the doorway, where Dad stands with his arms crossed.

“What’s going on here?” Dad asks calmly.

“Your son just had his hands all over my daughter!” Steve snaps back.

My mouth actually. But I keep quiet. The vein in Steve’s forehead already looks like it’s about to burst. No sense in speeding the process along.

“This is unacceptable to me,” he continues, his tone colder than ice. “I don’t care what kind of parenting role you’ve decided to take. Your boys can screw to their hearts’ content, but my daughter is not one of Reed’s sex toys.”

My shoulders snap straight. Who the hell is he to say that?

“Ella is my girlfriend,” I say coolly. “Not a sex toy.”

He jabs a finger at the messed up bedspread. “So it’s perfectly okay for you to take advantage of her like this?” His icy glare shifts to Dad. “And you! What kind of father allows two teenagers this much freedom? Next thing you’re going to tell me they sleep in the same room!”

Ella’s guilty expression doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. When Steve sees it, his face turns redder.

He takes a deep breath, slowly relaxes his fists, and then says, “Pack your bags, Ella.”

There’s a beat of silence, followed by three incredulous exclamations.

“What?” Ella.

“No way.” Me.

“Steve, that isn’t necessary.” Dad.

Ella’s father only addresses the last remark. “Actually, I think it’s very necessary. Ella is my daughter. I don’t want her living in this kind of environment.”

“You’re saying my home isn’t a good environment for a child?” Dad’s tone sharpens. “I’ve raised five sons here, and they’re all doing fine.”

A loud laugh booms out of Steve’s throat. “They’re doing fine? One of your boys is charged with murder, Callum! Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but Reed’s not a good kid.”

Outrage slams into me. “The hell I’m not.”

“He’s a bad influence,” Steve goes on as if I hadn’t spoken. “They all are.” He looks at Ella again. “Pack your bags. I mean it.”

She juts her chin. “No.”

“She’s only just settled into a routine here,” Dad says in another attempt to calm Steve down. “Don’t rip her away from the place she considers home.”

“Her home is with me,” Steve retorts. “You’re not her father—I am. And I don’t want my daughter shacking up with your son. I don’t give a shit if that makes me old-fashioned or unreasonable or whatever the hell you want to call it. She’s coming with me. You want to fight me on this? Fine. I’ll see you in family court. But right now, you can’t stop me from taking her out of this house.”

Ella’s panicked gaze darts over to Dad, but the look in his eyes says it all—defeat.

She turns her imploring gaze to Steve. “I want to stay here.”

He’s unmoved by her plea. “Sorry, but that’s not an option. So, I repeat. Pack. Your. Bags.” When she doesn’t budge from my side, he claps his hands together as if she’s a trained seal. “Now.”

Ella fists her hands at her side, waiting for my dad to jump in. When he remains silent, she stomps out angrily.

I’m about to go after her when Steve stops me. “Reed. A minute of your time,” he says tersely.

It’s not a question. It’s a command.

The two men exchange glances. Dad’s face tightens and then he backs out of the room, leaving me alone with Steve.

“What?” I say bitterly. “You gonna tell me again what a bad influence I am?”

He walks over to the bed and stares at the rumpled covers before shifting his gaze to me. I fight the urge to fidget. Nothing Ella and I were doing in here was wrong.