Lessons in Sin

“What happened?” She removed her gloves and clutched my fingers on her leg.

“I choked her during sex and sent her into cardiac arrest. She was bound and gagged and couldn’t tell me. She died with my hands around her throat.”

And my filthy dick inside her.

“Oh, Magnus, no.” She cupped my face, her features twisting in grief. “Oh my God, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you.”

I hated the pity in her voice, in her touch, in her damn bewitching eyes.

“I cared nothing about that woman. I could barely tolerate her beyond a quick fuck.” I gripped her wrist, squeezing delicate bones. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t.” Her expression hardened, and she ripped her arm away. “But I do feel for you. It was a terrible tragedy that you’ve been carrying around for nine years. A tragedy that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. You weren’t charged, right?”

“There were no criminal charges. Her family threatened to sue me in civil court, and I paid them off. I also gave them her corporation, which they ran into the ground. I buried the whole thing. Made it all go away. Not even your family can dig it up.”

“Was Amelia your last…? Was that the last time you had sex?”

“Yes.”

She pulled in a deep breath, and her eyes lost focus. It was a lot to process. God only knew what she thought of me.

“No wonder you’ve been celibate all this time,” she murmured. “It’s an awful thing to reconcile, and you’re already emotionally constipated. Even if you cared about Amelia, you wouldn’t have two tears to rub together for her.”

“Tell me what you really think,” I deadpanned.

“I think that absence of emotion indicates deep pain. If it’s too vast to manage, you freeze it. It’s like shock that never goes away. I think you have to let that go and let yourself feel before you can even consider having a relationship. Not that I’m suggesting that’s what we’re doing here. But you can’t even live with another person, so…”

I could live with her.

It wouldn’t be much different than what we’d been doing. Hell, we’d been inseparable for four months. The number of hours we spent together every single day—bantering, flirting, arguing, kissing—was incomparable. Married couples didn’t even do that.

Whether she liked it or not, we were already in a relationship.

I’d never cloistered myself with another person the way I had with her. I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first. The one-on-one tutoring during the day. The punishments every afternoon and night. I’d kept her to myself, monopolizing her. But rather than ruining our relationship, our time together had only deepened our bond.

I was in a romantic relationship with her long before it became sexual. And now she knew all my secrets. She knew me better than anyone.

Amid the evergreens, between the snow-hardened earth and the expansive blue heavens, my heart beat stronger than it ever had before. A weight had been lifted, and my angel wasn’t running.

Not yet anyway.

She was contemplative, quiet, her gaze skipping from my eyes to my hands on her lap and back again.

“Let’s head back.” She untangled her body from mine and stepped back, turning toward the trail.

We hiked back in silence, the snowy path rising to meet our boots and the bright sky illuminating the way. I watched her with new strength and inner peace as she marveled at every animal track, cloud formation, and bird within sight.

When we reached the cabin, I pulled her toward the door. But she dug in her feet and withdrew her hand.

“I’m going to hang out with the beavers for a while.” The look she tossed me was not an invitation to join her.

If I were a sensitive, insecure man, I would’ve taken issue with it. But I wasn’t. She could have her space. I respected her need to absorb my hideous past, and I would give her time. So long as she didn’t run. That would be a mistake.

I caught her by the throat and yanked her against me, relishing the spark in her eyes and the snag in her breath.

“I’ll make dinner.” I hauled her mouth to mine, kissing her until she melted. Then I set her away with a whisper in her ear. “Behave.”

I left her there, headed to the kitchen, and made lobster pie, with tail, claw and knuckle meat, smothered in a buttery cracker and tomalley dressing. It took me an hour to prepare while following an online recipe. My mouth watered as I slid it into the oven, but my attention stayed on the windows.

While I sliced cornbread and cleaned up, I watched her. Thirty feet from the house, she sat on a rock beside the stream, her unfocused eyes on the beaver dam, her expression lost in thought.