Lessons in Sin

“And he’s a priest. That’s why our attraction hasn’t moved past that kiss. But if it ever does, remember this.” I smoothed my hands down my dress and stood taller. “I’m a legal adult. What he and I do together is between him and me. I know he’s not a gentle man, and I love that about him. He won’t hurt me. Not without my permission. I believe the word that might give you peace is consensual. That’s all it will ever be with us.”

“You’re…” He set a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “You’re a very smart, mature young lady.”

“I’m learning, and believe it or not, he’s helping me with that.”

“He’s a good teacher.” He smiled thoughtfully. “I think you’re helping him with that, too.”

“Do you feel better about our relationship?”

“I feel like an accomplice to something that hasn’t happened.”

Yet.

I heard the unspoken word. He didn’t believe we would leave it at a kiss. Maybe he was right. But it wasn’t for him to worry about.

I’d spent the past three months vacillating between hating the priest and craving the man, and through it all, my sexual attraction hadn’t wavered. Every day with him grew harder, tenser, more strained. At the same time, I cherished every moment we spent together.

“I won’t steal any more of your time.” Crisanto gestured for me to head back toward the gym. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

“Go on.” His easy smile returned. “Have a great time.”

With the hope to do just that, I pushed back my shoulders and strode to the gymnasium.

The Winter Formal was the most anticipated event of the year. Every student at Sion Academy and St. John de Brebeuf lived for this dance. The basketball courts had been converted into a dance floor. Tables of food and punch lined the back wall. A DJ blasted dance music through the speakers, and paper decorations hung from the rafters, most of which I had designed.

In Bishop’s Landing, I attended masquerade balls and black-tie events every other weekend. I hated them. I hated the pretentious finger food and the fake smiles and my mother hovering at my elbow, watching my every move, making sure I didn’t embarrass her.

Being forced to attend those balls was a lot like being forced to attend Sion Academy. All of it served her agenda to control me and use me as a pawn.

But this dance would be different. My mother wasn’t involved, and there was someone I desperately, achingly wanted to see here.

With excitement thrumming in my blood, I stepped through the doors, and my entire being homed in on him. Through the flickering lights, beyond the crowds of dancers, he stood like a sentinel on the far side of the gym.

Dressed in all black with a square of white at his throat, he appraised me with sublime intensity and attention to detail. His earnest stare didn’t miss an inch as it raked me from head to toe and back again.

The dance music swirled around me. Students paused and turned their heads. But all that existed was him.

My breath sped up, heat and hunger tangling. I wanted to run to him. I ached to feel his lips again, taste his tongue, hear his throaty groans, and writhe beneath his capable hands.

I wanted to strip that man and fuck him like the good Lord intended. By the smoldering look in his eyes, he was thinking the same about me.

“Lord have mercy, you two couldn’t be more obvious.” Crisanto’s whisper came over my shoulder, and his finger jabbed into my spine. “Pull your eyes away from him and go find Daisy.”

I blinked, breaking the trance. That was when I noticed my surroundings, the onlookers. Everyone was watching me stare at my teacher.

Shit.

CHAPTER 22

TINSLEY

Where was Daisy?

I started walking, my head swinging left to right, my attention on everything and everyone except the person who called to the deepest parts of my soul.

As Magnus’s gaze burned the side of my face, I avoided looking in his direction and zeroed in on my friend.

She stood alone at the edge of the dance floor. No one talked to her or acknowledged her presence. Every student who passed gave her a wide berth as if she were a leper.

High schoolers could be so fucking mean, but over the past three months, I’d discovered that Sion girls were the cruelest. Especially Nevada Hildebrand.

I stayed away from that bitch. After she wrongfully accused me of ratting her out, she stopped talking to me. Good riddance.

Since I wasn’t a snitch, I never told anyone about her threat. But I hadn’t forgotten it.

A familiar song pounded through the speakers. I caught the beat and danced my way to Daisy.

“Why aren’t you out on the dance floor, showing them how it’s done?” I rocked my hips, shimmying a circle around her stiff posture.