Beautiful Sinner: a standalone forbidden romance (Beautiful Series)

THERE ARE tendrils of sweat dripping down my back as I climb the stairs that evening, desperate for a shower. After lunch, Callum and I raked out the dead garden beds behind the house. I didn’t even know Ireland could be hot until today.

After we finished the first one together, him correcting my every move, he left me to finish the second by myself. Still I felt like he was watching me the entire time I raked and shoveled and pulled the weeds out of that bed. I could hear him in my head, telling me how I was doing it wrong, how lazy I was, how wrong I was for this job. I cursed his name in my mind the entire time I worked and imagined every weed I pulled from the ground was his head.

Still, I found myself wishing he would come back out and work alongside me.

But he never came back outside after he left me with the work, so I packed up the garden supplies when I was done and dumped the wheelbarrow in the compost all by myself like he told me to. He probably has work to do at the church, which would explain his absence.

I didn’t even know priests could have other jobs, but I guess this isn’t really a job as much as responsibility. He’s here to help out his sister since she lost her husband. It’s not like he’s an entrepreneur looking to get rich.

I do wish they’d let me give them more tips on the hotel. This has to be one of the most beautiful locations in the world and they haven’t been fully booked in over a year. It doesn’t make sense.

If they would just update the place a little, list it on some more current apps, they would be booming with business. And Ennis isn’t a bad town for young travelers. The beach isn’t like a regular beach with waves and sun, but that’s what makes it better. It’s all about the novelty of something authentic and different. If they could market that, they would make a killing. But I’ve only been here a couple days and I don’t want to insert myself too soon.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I decide to just get straight into the shower instead of dragging all of this dead grass and dirt to my room. I can smell myself, and I don’t want this stench anywhere near where I sleep. So once I reach the top of the stairs, I take the two steps to the bathroom and throw open the door.

My heart stops in my chest.

Standing in the middle of the room, bent over the sink with shaving cream on his face is Callum—and the shaving cream is the only thing on his body. The only thing. My eyes can’t help themselves as they travel down from his shocked expression across those thick biceps and ridged abs to the thing hanging between his legs. I should not be looking, and really it’s only a split second, but it’s etched into my memory, and I’m still staring at it. I’m not just staring, I’m drinking it in, gawking, sketching it on paper like my sister does when she tells me to freeze. It’s half hidden by a gentle tuft of black hair, but even as he turns away I catch the way it hangs with a little bit of life and not completely dead and flacid. In my not so limited experience with men, I’ve learned that this means my new boss has relieved himself recently.

“Jesus Christ!” he bellows as he snatches a towel and covers himself in a rush.

I shouldn’t smile, but he turns so quickly, hiding himself from my view so that my vision is left with his porcelain white bum just as I slam the door shut.

I can’t move. Standing outside the bathroom, I just keep this polaroid picture of naked Callum in my brain, like it’s slowly developing and mine to keep forever.

Slapping my hand over my mouth, I turn and scurry to my room, trying to stifle my laugh as I slam my door shut with me behind it.

Jumping onto my bed, forgetting that I’m filthy and covered in dirt, I quickly shut my eyes, soaking in that vision although I’m not sure if I want it or not.

I’m not attracted to Callum—not like that. He’s a priest. Too old for me, and not rich enough to make being old cool. Too much of an asshole half the time. I barely know him…sure I’ve known guys far less and seen a great deal more, but still. Why am I still thinking about him naked?!

Suddenly, he’s in my doorway, and I can’t bear to open my eyes.

“If we’re going to share a bathroom, you should really learn to knock.”

Still, my eyes are clenched shut. “Don’t you live at the church?”

“Sometimes. But as far as you’re concerned, you can assume I live across the hall and will occasionally be naked in the bathroom with the door closed. I’ll assume the same about you.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, now covering my entire face with my hands. I can’t look at him. I can’t. Not with these new feelings stirring around in my head, like the vision of him naked was some kind of fuel to the fire.

After a pause, I peek my eyes open to see if he’s still there, and I wish I hadn’t. Because he is still there, in a pair of jeans…without a shirt. Still glistening from the shower and looking a little too ripped for a clergyman.

He looks like he wants to say something.

“Twenty-five Hail Mary’s for seeing your priest naked.”

I stare at him, mouth hanging open. “Wh—what?”

“Thirty if you entertained lustful thoughts.”

“Oh my God!”

My shriek bounces off the old wood and stained windows as I slam my face back in my hands. He says it with the most serious expression, and I can’t tell if he’s kidding or if I’m hallucinating.

Finally, he does leave, and I can open my eyes. But I cannot forget the way he looked, standing in my doorway trying to punish me for seeing him naked. I don’t know what the fuck a Hail Mary is, but I have a feeling I’ll need to do a lot more than thirty with the way I’m thinking right now.