Lessons in Sin - Pam Godwin Page 0,16

the room, dying to know what could be so damn engrossing at the ass-crack of dawn.

“Look at him.” A pretty redhead sighed. “It’s not fair.”

“He’s actual, literal sex,” another girl whispered. “Even his sweat is gorge.”

“Those arms, though.”

“Arms?” A brunette with endless curves pressed her brow to the glass. “Girrrrl, look at dat ass.”

I sucked on my bottom lip, biting down on a smile.

The boys at St. John de Brebeuf must’ve been exercising in the athletic field. It was football season, and evidently, these girls had a favorite player. But how much could they see from this distance?

I inched closer, approaching their backs. Not one head turned toward me as I squeezed in on the end and peered around the edge of the window.

Oh.

My.

God.

That was no boy.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, muffling my gasp as I drank in the glory that was a half-naked Father Magnus.

Dressed in nothing but gray sweatpants, he stood beneath the window and stretched his arms overhead. The thin sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips, molding to the thick shape of his bulge and clinging precariously to the firm, round muscles of his backside.

That ass was no joke. I silently willed the waistband to give up its hold and fall already.

He clasped his hands behind his head and turned toward the sunrise, tilting his face heavenward as if soaking in the rays. His stance highlighted the definition along his spine, the dips and grooves of his carved torso, and the power in his legs.

Stunningly beautiful.

Dangerously delicious.

Sinfully pornographic.

Behind him, a cluster of outdoor fitness equipment scattered along the rubber jogging trail. The path wound across the campus grounds and led to the locked gate.

The girls obviously knew his schedule and set their alarms to watch him run that trail and stop at the equipment beneath the window. At six in the morning, he probably thought he had privacy.

Dummy.

Never underestimate the mind of a woman.

Gushing whispers continued around me. They hadn’t noticed my presence, their eyes glued on the forbidden view.

“Thank God for his dedication to physical health.” The black girl beside me traced a heart on the steamed glass inches from her face.

“Tucker said he lifts weights with the football team after his morning runs. I’ve never wanted to be a boy so badly in my life. Can you imagine working out with that man?”

“Yes. I can and do imagine it. All. Day. Long.”

“You’re going to hell.”

“For him, I’ll go on my knees.”

“I swear on all that is holy, I would suck the Jesus out of his cock.”

“Same, girl. Same.”

These bitches weren’t prissy at all. I’d found the bad crowd.

A smile stretched my face. I was right there with them, agreeing and nodding with everything they said. From afar, when his condemning glare wasn’t aimed at me, he was the sexiest man alive.

But up close, with his heat and anger and intoxicating scent smothering my senses, he was terrifying.

He did a few more stretches on the strength bars, eliciting sighs from his audience. Then he jogged off toward the gate, his ass flexing through ground-covering strides.

“I don’t know what those V thingies are called,” someone said. “But I want to lather them in butter and rub my naked body along the grooves.”

“They’re called sex lines,” I murmured.

“What?” A dozen heads turned in my direction.

“The V-shaped cut in the abs. They’re sex lines.” I stepped back and leaned a shoulder against the wall, absorbing the weight of their stares. “The scientific name is transversus abdominis. It’s a sheet of muscle that wraps around the body and supports the spine. When you have a super-strong core and low body fat, you can see the muscle’s edges. Also known as the Adonis belt, named after Adonis, the legendary god of beauty.”

“Are you smart or something?” the redhead asked in a tone that suggested I was a response away from being labeled uncool.

“I remember things. Like all the lickable parts of the male anatomy.” I pulled in a breath. “So you, uh, watch him run every day?”

“Morning worship begins at six,” the girl in the back said. “His body is our temple, and we come to pray.”

A chorus of Amens erupted, followed by laughter.

The curvy brunette hopped down from the bed and approached, giving me a head-to-toe perusal. “You’re Keaton Constantine’s sister.”

Here we go.

“I’m Tinsley. Just got here last night.”

“I’m Nevada. I went to Pembroke with Keaton.” She turned to her friends. “He was the rugby captain. King of the school. Talk about hot. Holy fuck, you guys,