Lessons in Sin by Pam Godwin

CHAPTER 38

TINSLEY

Afeeling of breathlessness shimmered through me, tingling my limbs.

Was this really happening? So many questions swirled in my head. I didn’t know where to start.

I met Magnus’s eyes—When will my heart stop skipping at the sight of him?—and asked, “Are you still a priest?”

“I officially left the priesthood one month ago. But you and I both know I left long before that.”

A thrill ran through me, and I looked around the room, taking in all the expectant expressions. “Everyone knew about this but me?”

“I told your siblings last night.” My mother cocked her head. “They know your history with Magnus.”

“Why wasn’t I told?”

“Magnus requested we wait until today.”

And she listened to him? What world was this?

I turned, drinking in the magnetic glow of his deep blue eyes. He regarded me so profoundly, so unnervingly focused on my every twitch. And therein was my answer.

He wanted to see my expression when I learned about the new contract. He wanted to be certain that I approved of this. That I loved him.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” I tapped the signature line, my pulse quickening.

“No, Miss Constantine.” He held out his pen. “I’m demanding it.”

The throb of my heart became a full-body thud-thud-thud as everything inside me resurrected with energy and life.

“You’re lucky I’m into the bossy thing.” I accepted the pen, the words blurring through tears while I signed.

He signed after me. “It’s done.”

The relief in his voice was palpable. I felt it. Basked in it.

As the room began to clear out, he gripped my hand and pulled me to my feet, interlacing our fingers in a silent promise. He wasn’t letting me go. Not now. Not ever.

My siblings hugged me on their way out. The Kensingtons and their staff said their goodbyes. Then my mother approached.

Six months ago, she’d sent her henchman to eliminate Magnus. Now she was building a future with him. But she’d gotten what she wanted. A merger between powerful families and then some. She hadn’t only gained the strength of the Kensington dynasty. She’d acquired Magnus’s wealth and power as well.

She stepped forward, expressionless, and reached out to touch a finger beneath my chin. “No one can hide a broken heart from me.”

My eyes widened. She’d known I loved him all this time?

“Mrs. Constantine.” Galen appeared at my side. “I’m turning in my resignation.”

She nodded. “Thank you for your service.”

Then he turned to Magnus, and they shook hands.

“Thank you for watching her for me.” Magnus pulled him in and patted his back before releasing him. “I hope you’re not turning in your resignation to me.”

“No.” Galen chuckled. “Call me when you have the next assignment.”

“Wait. Hold up.” I glanced between them and noted the confusion in my mother’s eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“I hired Galen when you went home for Christmas.” Magnus smiled down at me. “I hired him to pretend to work for your mother so that he could keep an eye on you.”

My mouth fell open. So did my mother’s.

She quickly closed it, her words hissing past her teeth. “I hired Galen to guard Tinsley.”

“Yes,” Magnus said. “But he works for me. I sent him to you to get that job as Tinsley’s bodyguard.”

Galen grinned, all white teeth and glimmering eyes.

My mother glared. “Well done, Magnus. You got one by me. It won’t happen again.”

With that, she strode out of the boardroom. Galen followed her, leaving Magnus and me alone.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, replaying every interaction I’d had with Galen over the past six months.

“He drove me back to the school that day.” My mind spun, and I lowered my voice. “The day we had sex in the church.”

“Yes.”

“If he was working for you then, does that mean you knew I was coming back?”

“Yes.”

Oh my God. Magnus had been waiting for me in the church.

How much of this had he planned?

I stepped back and slumped into the closest chair. “Did Galen give you updates on me over the past six months?”

“Every day. Every detail. I know how little you slept, how little you ate, how much you cried.” His voice thickened, darkened. “Your beautiful pain.”

That was a disturbing revelation. A glaring invasion of privacy. And if I knew him at all, which I did, he’d gotten off on my suffering. The filthy freak.

I should’ve been outraged. Except it confessed something important.

“You’ve been working to get me back the whole time.” I flattened my hand against my pounding heart.

“Yes.” He lowered to his knees before me.

“By inserting Galen into my daily routine, you…” I gulped, thinking through the ramifications. “All this time, you were up in my business, breathing down my neck, providing tissues for my tears, blocking Tucker’s advances, making deals with the Kensingtons, railroading, bulldozing, and basically manipulating the hell out of my life.”

“You have a problem with that?” He hovered his hand near my face, waiting for my response.

“If this isn’t right, I don’t know what is.” I touched my fingers to his palm, savoring the sparks of heat. “If I’m wrong for wanting your possessive, overbearing, steamrolling brand of devotion, then I’m wrong about everything.”

For long minutes, only our hands moved, palms and fingertips softly rasping together, caressing with the lightest brushes of skin.

I stared into his eyes, marveling, thunderstruck, aching to feel his beautiful lips on mine.

Kiss me.

He made a fist against my palm and stood abruptly. “Not here.”

“Then where?” I rose, sliding my hands up the brick wall of his chest. “If you don’t kiss me—”

He swooped in and took my mouth with firm lips, hot breaths, and a rumbling groan vibrating in his throat. I gripped his hips, and he cupped the back of my head, stepping closer, pulling me against him, trapping me in the prison of his arms.

There was nowhere else I’d rather be.

I whimpered, and his kiss turned ravenous, forceful, making me giddy and delirious with desire.

“Not here.” He tore his mouth away with a growl and grabbed my hand. “The things I want to do to you shouldn’t be legal.”

“Where are we going?” I tried to get my bearings as the world spun around me, my brain struggling to compete with my craze for this man.

If he hadn’t come to his senses, I would’ve jumped his bones in the boardroom.

Or this hallway.

Or, oh fuck, the elevator.

When the doors to the lift opened up ahead, several people stepped on with us. I was both relieved and annoyed.

He held my hand as we descended, keeping his eyes straight ahead. His thumb roved along my palm, comforting me, talking to me, telling me how much he missed me.

“Do you still have the cabin?” I asked quietly.

“Yes. But I haven’t been there since Christmas. The memories…”

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t apologize.”

The elevator doors opened, and he led me out and through the large foyer.

“The way I ended things…” I tugged on his hand, stopping him. “Magnus, the day in the church has haunted me for six months. The shit I said—”

“Were lies. I was angry as hell with you, but that lasted all of two seconds. When I yelled at you and told you to get out of my church, I saw the truth. It was etched all over your beautiful face. Every word out of your mouth was an attempt to protect me. I didn’t piece it all together until much later, but I knew at that moment that your entire performance was a lie.”

“Nevada told my family about us. She suspected something was going on, so they sent an investigator. They have pictures of us at the cabin.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“Galen was in that mansion with you for six months. He watched and listened and reported back.”

“Goddamn Nevada…” I kept my voice soft despite the fury seething through me. “I know she put her hands down your pants. I mean, seriously, Magnus. How the fuck did that happen?”

“She’s an entitled, immature, dishonest brat. She unbuttoned her shirt in my classroom, and that was as far as she got. I chased her into the hallway without touching her. She didn’t put a hand on me.”

“So it was a rumor.” My shoulders fell with relief.

“No one touches me but you.”

“I love you.” Blood thudded through my veins.

“I know.”

“Galen told you that, too?”

“No.” He slid his thumb along my bottom lip. “Your face did. That day in the church, I watched your heart break into a million pieces.”

He was on the move again, guiding me out of the building and onto the noisy, crowded streets of New York City.

“We’re not going far.” Sexy brown hair fell over his forehead.

I gave in to the impulse to reach up and sweep the strands away from his stunning face. “How did you buy a controlling interest in the Kensington dynasty?”

“I have a lot of money.” He led me down the next block, turning every female head in his direction as he passed.

He’d been gorgeous in his priestly white collar. But in a suit and tie? The man was dangerously, deliciously, seductively arresting. Every time I looked at him, I felt incapacitated. There were no thoughts, no focus, only desire and the agony of waiting.

“How much is a lot of money?” I asked.

“Does it matter?” He cut an icy glance at me. “Does it change the reason you’re here?”

“We’ve had this conversation before.” I sighed. “I just want to know how you did it.”

“I traded some stocks, moved holdings around, sold businesses, bought others, flipped a few—”

“How many women did you seduce into selling their companies?”

“None.” His voice snapped, harsh and angry. “There have been no women. How could you even think that?”

“I didn’t think it. It’s just… You did all this in six months?”

“Yes.”

“While you were teaching at Sion?”

“I only had two classes. I spent the rest of the time growing cash flow.” He glanced at me. “And I sold Sion Academy.”

“To buy Kensington?”

“To invest in you.”

My cheeks rose. “You rescued me.”

“Not because I see you as in need of rescue. But rather because I see your intelligence, your extraordinary potential, and nurturing that nurtures something inside me.”

Ours was a brain-body-soul connection—all three at once at an intensity that consumed me in the most poignant way.

At the next block, he escorted me into a fancy building with gold doors and uniformed doormen. I glanced up at the awning.

Kensington Hotel.

Just one of the hundreds of Kensington luxury hotels across the world.

“You own this.” I laughed, shaking my head.

“I own a great many things.” He ushered me inside with a possessive hand on my lower back.

The busy foyer parted for him. Not because he was the owner. No one knew that. Everyone moved out of the way because he carried himself like a boss, a ruler of men, radiating take-charge vibes with a profound sense of duty and strength.

He stopped at the bay of elevators and pulled me close, bringing us face to face. “Anything else before we head up?”

Once we stepped onto a lift, there would be no more talking. Not until we took the edge off this need burning between us. That could take hours. Days.

“The last time I saw you, in the church, you told me to choose you.” I drew in a shaky breath. “I did. I chose you the best way I knew how.”

“Tinsley,” he said gruffly, sliding a hand around my neck. “I know, baby.”

“I love you,” I whispered, tasting the ache in the back of my throat.

“I love you maddeningly.” He brushed the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear and keeping his touch there.

“I loved you then, too. So much.”

His hand tensed in my hair. “You’re killing me, princess.”

“You told me to take a leap of faith. I should’ve done that. I should’ve trusted you to take care of everything from the beginning.”

“Leap with me now.”

I hit the button that called the elevator. A ding sounded. The door opened, and I backed into the empty lift with excitement thrumming through my circulation.

He prowled in after me, the heat in his eyes feeding the physical chemistry we shared.

The instant the doors shut, he surged forward. I stumbled back, colliding with the wall. He kept coming, and the weight of his body bore down upon me. Then his mouth was on my lips. His hands on my face, in my hair, and still on the move, frantic in his quest to touch every part of me.

As the elevator shot upward, he lifted me up the wall and wrapped my legs around his hips. Our lips fused, tongues rubbing together in the updrafts of our hunger, spiraling, soaring, two sinners in love, reaching for heaven.

“Forgive me, Father,” I gasped against his mouth, “for I have sinned.”

His fingers slipped beneath my panties and found me wet.

I moaned. “It’s been six months since my last confession.”

“Tell me.” He licked my tongue as his hand glided along my drenched heat.

“I’ve had my fingers in my pussy for six months while fantasizing about my favorite priest.”

A long, deep groan resounded in his chest. “Killing me.”

“What’s my penance?”

“A lifetime with me.”

“Fine. I’ll stay with you for an eternity and not a day more.”

He angled his head, devouring my lips while sinking his fingers between my legs. Pleasure ignited. Passion blazed. The hard length of him strained behind his trousers, pressing against my core, desperate to get out.

When the elevator arrived at the top floor, he carried me out without separating our lips. I caught glimpses of a penthouse—dark woods, crystal sconces, velvet fabrics. I didn’t give a fuck about the luxurious space, only about the man who occupied it.

He had to put me down to strip our clothes. We did it in record time, stumbling toward the master suite, bumping into walls, never losing eye contact or breaking our kiss.

Then we stood beside the bed, both naked and panting. And in my veins, I felt only love. Scorching, savage, immeasurable love.

Our six-month separation hadn’t just made our hearts grow fonder. It had stress-tested our connection and forged our bond in hardship. I felt the flames of that fusion as we stepped forward together, our bodies sliding, arms clinging, lips joining, and heartbeats falling in sync.

He spread me out on the bed and took his time reacquainting his mouth with every inch of me. He was gentle at first. Patient. Loving. Then his true nature took over.

His kisses turned to bites, his caresses to stinging slaps and bruises. By the time he bent me over his lap and rained open-palmed strikes upon my ass, he was groaning, rabid, and harder than steel.

I thrashed and moaned, fighting to escape the ungodly burn. And I loved it. I’d missed it. Nothing matched this man’s voracious intensity, passion, and stamina.

For the next hour, he edged us toward release over and over and over again. When he finally tossed me onto the bed and pressed himself against my pussy, I was shivering, gasping, clawing at the claw marks I’d painted across his chest.

“Magnus.” I bucked, clutching his rock-hard buttocks, trying to work him into my body. “You hateful son of a bitch. Fuck me. Please, give me your cock.”

He thrust, and we groaned as one. Then he moved, plunging, claiming, owning. He fucked me like a beast, primal and unhinged. Then he made love to me like a defender, attentive and tender.

He gave me the teacher and the priest, the sinner and the sadist, the greatest of lovers and the staunch protector.

Our bond was eternal, and that was the grand prize, the best gift this universe had to offer.

He was my freedom.

My journey.

My destination.

My one great passion.

My choice.

My love.

My lessons in sin.