Lessons in Sin

She wanted to stay. I heard it in her voice, saw it in her posture.

“I need you to go in there and defend me.” I slid my arms into the sleeves of the coat, holding her stubborn gaze. “Stand up for me when they call me Tampon Tinsley or whatever dumb names they’ll think up. Father Magnus will escort me back to campus.”

Her shoulders squared, and she stepped forward. As she gripped my hands, she pressed a tampon into one of my palms. She must’ve grabbed it from the bathroom. God love her.

“When I was born,” she said, holding my hands, “my parents took one look at my face and saw something they never wanted to see again. They left the hospital within hours and never came back. No one would adopt me, so a convent of nuns took me in. When I was fourteen, Father Magnus moved me here and gave me the best education in the country for free.” She gave him a grateful smile and returned to me. “When I met you, you took one look at my face and saw me. In that single look, Tinsley Constantine, you showed me how to bravely be me.” She blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek, compelling my own tears to fall. “I just wanted you to know that.”

Walking backward, she wiped at her face. Her lips lifted in a soft smile, and she disappeared around the corner.

I pulled in a ragged breath, shaking. “That’s heavy.”

“It’s all true.” He clutched my arm and guided me out the side door.

The icy darkness attacked my bare legs, biting through my skin. I dreaded the five-minute walk to the church. But the residence hall was even farther.

I hunkered deeper into my coat and stared at my blood-soaked heels as I shuffled along, following his black shoes. He had such a confident gait, powered by muscle and aggression. It was a sexy swagger and a predatory prowl all rolled into one.

“So you let Daisy go to school here free of charge.” My teeth chattered. “How did that happen?”

“I read about her story in the Catholic Times. It moved me.”

“She’s not the first one, is she? I bet there are others who go here for free. Other students that you help.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah. It matters.” I lifted my face to the chilly night sky. “You come across as this scary, grouchy tyrant. But there’s some warm, squishiness inside you. Not a lot. But enough to…move me. Be careful with that, Magnus. You might just steal my heart.”

He said nothing, his concentration seemingly focused on getting us to our destination as quickly as possible.

Once we were out of view of the gymnasium, he gripped my hand. His frigid fingers drew my attention to his black shirt and hunched shoulders. He was freezing.

“Where’s your coat?”

“We’re not going far.”

That was when I noticed he’d led me in the opposite direction of the church and campus. I looked around, noting the quiet side street, the small single-story building, and his car parked beside it.

He tightened his grip and ushered me to the front porch.

“Magnus.” My heart stammered with excitement and worry. “I can’t go in there.”

Without a word, he opened the door and pulled me inside.

CHAPTER 24

TINSLEY

“Take a shower.” Magnus locked the front door and nodded at the short hallway on the left.

Don’t freak out.

It was just a shower. Harmless. Innocent. My cold, blood-caked skin rejoiced at the idea.

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

I shrugged out of my coat and left it on the small couch. As I stepped toward the bathroom, he crossed to the open kitchenette and removed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet.

His private quarters fit the image I’d created in my mind. Clean, simple, and darkly masculine. He had no more than what he needed—couch, table, bathroom, bedroom—and for some reason, that made me feel instantly welcome and comfortable.

“Your floors.” I glanced down, searching for drops of blood.

“I gave you an order, Tinsley.”

Take a shower.

His bossiness helped shake the tension from my body. All I had to do was take a shower. He would handle the rest.

I needed that.

I needed him more than I was willing to admit, even to myself.

As my heels clicked across the wood flooring, carrying me closer to his bathroom, the scent of him curled through my senses. A virile masculinity that leaked into the deepest places inside me and filled me with warmth and hope.

His presence made it impossible not to dream.

In the small bathroom, I set the tampon on the vanity and closed the door. Then I stripped. The dress went on a hook on the wall. The lacy panties probably should’ve gone in the trash can, but they were my favorite, most expensive pair. Maybe I could hand-wash them?

Shower first.

I folded the underwear, blood and all, into a tiny little triangle and set them in the sink. My long, thick hair, piled in an elaborate updo, had taken me two hours to perfect. So I left it, pulled back the shower curtain, and climbed in.