Lessons in Sin by Pam Godwin

CHAPTER 19

TINSLEY

The next afternoon, I sat on the bench in the hallway outside of Magnus’s classroom, cringing as his angry bellow rattled the door.

For once, I wasn’t on the receiving end of his wrath. To be honest, I was shocked to learn who had ended up earning his punishment.

After Nevada’s blatant threats, I knew in my gut she was the one who’d left the shoebox on my bed last night. But Magnus was thorough and had spent the morning questioning each and every girl.

Within minutes in the interrogation chair, Alice had squealed and confessed her desire to inflict retribution on me. Tucker had broken up with her, and somehow, that was my fault. I didn’t even know they were a thing when he asked me to the Winter Formal.

Nothing was going on between him and me. He texted me sometimes, but it wasn’t overly flirtatious. I couldn’t imagine he felt any sort of connection between us. I sure didn’t.

But that didn’t help Alice. She’d lost her shit, and just as Felix had guessed, she’d asked her older sister to collect the roadkill and bring it to her over the weekend.

My concerns about how Alice would be punished were vanquished the moment her parents showed up. They packed up her dorm, and as soon as Magnus finished his verbal lashing, they would be taking her home.

Magnus had expelled her.

I felt a sick sense of jealousy that she got to leave. It didn’t seem fair.

But I was also relieved. I didn’t want to sleep down the hall from someone who used dead animals as threats. It was too The-Godfather’s-severed-horse-head for my comfort.

The door opened, and Magnus poked his head out. “We’re ready for you.”

I’d been beckoned here, waiting. For what, I didn’t know. I just wanted to put this whole nightmare behind me.

Following him into the classroom, I instantly spotted the redhead in the front row. Tears drenched Alice’s pale face. Her chin tucked to her chest, and her fingers clamped tightly on her lap.

An older man and woman, presumably her parents, stood off to the side, regarding me with wary expressions.

“Alice.” Magnus folded his hands behind him, his legs braced in the stance that so eloquently showcased his power.

Looking at him was a raw and delicious torment. Addictive, painful, and constant.

Alice rose to her feet and reluctantly dragged her gaze to mine.

“Hi, Tinsley. I, uh…” Her breath shook as she stole a peek at Magnus and returned to me. “My spiteful behavior and bilious treatment of you is unforgivable. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I will be thinking only of your pain during my one hundred hours of community service.”

Wow. That was…something. Delivered in an unchanging pitch with adult verbiage, it reeked of Magnus’s coaching.

Even if she didn’t mean a word of it, I appreciated the information. In addition to being expelled, it sounded like Magnus had given her a hellacious penance for her confession. One hundred hours of community service? Dear Lord, he was a sadist.

He stepped to his desk and perched on the edge, his head down and eyes up, never taking his attention off me.

Alice’s mother ushered her out, offering me an apologetic smile as she passed. When they were down the hall and out of hearing range, Alice’s father approached.

“Miss Constantine.” He ran a hand over his bald head in agitation, his gaze on the floor. “One thing must be understood. I would never go against your mother. Caroline Constantine is a woman of great respect. I respect her and understand she must put her daughters before mine. So if she decides to seek retribution—”

“Save it. I’m not telling her about this, and neither is Father Magnus.”

“You’re not?” The man looked up, eyes wide and hopeful. Then he twisted, taking in Magnus’s unreadable, unresponsive expression.

“I won’t. He won’t. There’s no reason to involve her.” I sighed. “Just…go.”

“Thank you.” The man left, shutting the door behind him.

“I hate when people do that.” I rested my hands on my hips. “My family can be arrogant and overbearing, but we’re not the damn mafia.”

“Sure about that?”

Not really. Maybe we were similar to an organized crime family. But we were super respectable and admired. And way more discreet about bloodshed.

To be honest, I didn’t know half the shit my family dabbled in. Like most of my siblings, I was sheltered from the details. Only my brothers, Winny and Perry, worked in the family business. When I asked about it, I was fed lies. Any and all criminal dealings were hidden behind smoke and mirrors. And money. A lot of fucking money. My family owned half of New York City.

“We’re not Italian, so…” I blinked once.

His face showed no emotion. A face his god had gone to great effort designing and sculpting. “You’re free to go for the day.”

“Oh.” I glanced at the door. “No punishments. No opossums. What ever shall I do?”

He tilted his head, studying me, his gaze enigmatic.

“What?” I returned stare for stare.

“Have you given any thought to applying for colleges?”

“Yes. No.”

“Explain.”

“I’ve given a lot of thought to what I want to do, and it doesn’t require a college education.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want to run an animal rescue.” My stomach tightened as I braced for a negative reaction.

He pushed his lips out, thinking. Then he nodded. “I can see that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but I suggest you earn a degree in business so you can operate it efficiently.”

“I would hire someone to do that.”

“Okay. What about the actual care of the animals? The health care and maintenance?”

“I would hire people for that, too.”

“Then what would you do?”

“I would play with the animals, of course.”

“Of course.” He narrowed his eyes, judging.

He thought I was spoiled and entitled, and he would be right.

“Annnd…” I jogged my shoulders playfully, grinning. “I would fund it.”

“With your trust fund?”

“Yes, that. And with my amazing passion. A project, business, charity, movie, piece of art—none of that takes shape unless it’s backed by someone who’s deeply passionate about it. It’s that investment of passion that drives the success of any business. Am I right?”

“Yes.” A smile pulled at his mouth and lit up his stunning eyes. “You’re absolutely right, Miss Constantine.”

“I know. I’m also really good at remembering things. Maybe I’ll read all the books on how to run a successful business. Or maybe you’ll teach me since you used to be, like, the king of the corporate world?”

“You investigated me.” His face blanked.

“Just a few searches on the internet. If anyone knows how to dominate a business, it’s you.”

Tension rippled through his frame, and his finger traced the edge of the desk, back and forth, back and forth.

We stared at each other for several platonic seconds. Then the air shifted, morphed, simmered into a hot minute of hungry intimacy. I grew warm and itchy beneath my uniform, and he gave no indication of looking away.

Damn him and his assertive eye contact.

“So give that some thought, and I’m going to, uh…” I thrust a thumb over my shoulder and sidestepped toward the door. “I’m gonna go.”

He slowly straightened and stepped with me, stalking, watching with that look in his eyes that I’d become achingly familiar with. He was thinking about our kiss. We both were.

My mouth had been sucked, bitten, and licked by dozens of guys. But what I experienced last night with Magnus? That was my first kiss. A real, toe-curling, heart-aching, ruin-me-for-all-others kiss.

“Magnus,” I whispered past a dry throat and picked up my pace, reaching for the door. “We’re not doing this.”

“How does your ass feel?”

Those words coming from that mouth shouldn’t be allowed.

Technically, it wasn’t allowed by the church. But Magnus didn’t have a problem with language as long as it wasn’t used in a disrespectful manner.

“Not answering that.” I gripped the door handle.

The staccato of his footfalls spiked my pulse. I opened the door, staggering back to widen it. An escape that didn’t happen because he was already there, an arm locked around my waist, pulling me back, and a palm against the door, shutting it.

“Think through this.” I slammed my eyes closed at the solid heat of his chest against my back.

“I do.” He skimmed a hand down my arm. “Every time I see you and every second you’re not in my sight.” His fingers molded around my hips, yanking me tight to his groin. “I never stop thinking through this.”

If I reached back, I would touch him. Touch him and explore him and participate in this fleeting fantasy. A dangerous fantasy that wouldn’t end well. Not for him.

Somewhere between a painful spanking and a pleasurable kiss, I’d come to care about what happened to Father Magnus Falke. I didn’t want to be the reason for his fall from grace. But if he continued down this path with me, I wasn’t sure I would be able to resist him.

Against my back, his chest shuddered with a heated breath. Then his fingers, the featherlight pads, ghosted along the backs of my thighs where the hem of my skirt met bare skin.

Against my better judgment, I angled my neck to steal a glimpse over my shoulder.

Good God in heaven, he was an erotic vision. A lock of brown hair hung over his brow, his sensual eyes half-shut, hunger glinting in the blue, all signs of holiness out the door.

His touch was barely a caress. But as those fingers circled my thighs from behind and glided up the valley between, each point of contact was a flickering flame that burned so hot it scorched.

A throaty groan fell from his lips, so delicious and wicked I felt it between my legs.

He dropped to his haunches behind me.

Oh God. I pressed my hands against the door, prepared to hold it shut if someone tried to enter. I could lock it. Just reach down and turn the lock. But that would be an unmistakable invitation to whatever this was.

I wouldn’t encourage him. At the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to object.

Until he reached beneath my skirt and fisted the fragile lace of my underwear.

My hand flew back and gripped his muscled forearm. “Do not, for the love of Kiki De Montparnasse, rip those.”

“Kiki De what?”

“They’re three-hundred-dollar panties. My brother bought them for me and—No, wait. That sounds…” I made a face, rapidly shaking my head. “Ew! My brother’s girlfriend got them. He probably didn’t know they were in the bag. Just don’t tear them.”

“I won’t.”

“I see it in your eyes.”

“What do you see?” Without taking his gaze off my face, he tucked my skirt up in the waistband, pulled the lace underwear upward like a thong, and exposed my welted cheeks to the air.

“That evil look on your face.” My breath quickened. “It makes a liar out of the collar at your throat.”

He ducked his head and sank his teeth into the flesh of my buttocks.

“Fuck!” I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

He bit me again, scraping vicious fangs along my abused skin. I rose on my toes, seeking reprieve, but at no time did I push him away or say no. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

With my underwear gathered along my crack, he had full access to my welts. I glued the front of my body to the door and endured the intensity of his mouth as he nipped, sucked, bit, and licked my wounds.

The licking was more than I could bear as his hot, wet, sacrilegious tongue learned every inch of my flesh from hip to thigh. When he wandered beneath the lace that lay between my cheeks, I clenched, whimpering. He didn’t press.

Instead, he slid the blade of his nose down my crevice, his breaths heating my skin as he crept lower, lower, and Mother of Fuck.

“What are you doing?” I trembled, heart racing.

He inhaled. Deeply.

Smelling me.

With his hands gripping my thighs and his nose buried between my legs, he was fucking smelling me through the crotch of my panties.

I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve done anything except stand here and throb and grow ridiculously, shamelessly wet.

It was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced.

He slowly rose, letting his fingertips climb my legs from calves to knees to thighs. When he reached my rear, he gave the welts another squeeze as if he couldn’t help himself.

I swallowed a gulp. “You’re a sadist.”

“Does putting a label on it make you feel better?”

“You can get help for the condition.”

“I did get help. I came here, became a priest, and abstained for nine years.” He straightened my underwear and skirt, his movements efficient and gentle. “Then you came along.”

“I’m sorry.” My chest constricted. “Send me home.”

“Never.” He leaned his weight against me and brushed my hair off my shoulder, exposing my throat. “If you leave, I’ll haul you back.”

“What? You’ll come for me?”

“Yes. Then you’ll come for me.”

His breath visited my neck, announcing his intent. He kissed the dips and curves there, soft and languorous, and palmed my ass, rough and aggressive. Claiming me. Scrambling my brain.

“Magnus—”

He grabbed my throat, hard enough to spin up my pulse, and brushed his lips against my ear.

“Be a good girl this afternoon.” A dark, dominating whisper.

Then he released me, opened the door, and walked back to his desk.