The Virgin. Tiffany Reisz

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The Virgin - Tiffany Reisz Mills & Boon Spice

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can’t blame me,” Kingsley said without any hint of contrition. “You fucked up, and I wanted to rip your heart out with my bare hands. It feels good to say that out loud.”

      Nora laughed, and shockingly so did Søren.

      “I wasn’t very happy with you, either,” Søren said. “You left without a word. Didn’t tell anyone where you went, not even Calliope.”

      “That was the point,” Kingsley said, rolling onto his back. “How could anyone tell you where I went if I didn’t even know where I was going? I got to the airport and bought a ticket for the next international flight out.”

      “Where did you go?” Nora asked.

      “Greece,” Kingsley said. “Then Japan. I spent a month in Hong Kong, a month in New Zealand. New Zealand gave me island fever. I went to the Philippines next, and after that, the French Caribbean.”

      “Meanwhile I’m in upstate New York in a convent. Next time I split town, I’m going to your travel agency, King,” she said.

      “No more leaving,” Søren said. Nora crawled across the bed and kissed him.

      “Never again, I promise,” she said, meaning every word. They kissed again, Søren’s hand resting lightly on the side of her neck, pressing into her collar so she could feel it against her throat. She hadn’t wanted to talk about that year ever, but now that they’d opened Pandora’s box, she felt better, as if the last and final wall between the three of them was tumbling down at last. They should have talked this out years ago. She and Kingsley hadn’t ever talked about the pregnancy they’d ended, but Søren was right as he usually was. Ignorance wasn’t bliss. Ignorance was cowardice.

      “Stop kissing him,” Kingsley said. “Get to the nun-fucking already.”

      Nora turned her head and glared at Kingsley.

      “I’ll tell you about my first night with Juliette if you tell me about your nun. It’s a good story,” Kingsley said. “Deal?”

      “Fair trade,” Nora said, and held out her hand. Kingsley shook it. “But my nun didn’t show up for about eight months. Let’s see, I got there in June. It was almost spring when I saw her the first time.”

      “That’s when I met Juliette, too. February in Haiti on the beach. I don’t remember the day of the week, but I know it was Valentine’s Day. Someone told me that.” He laughed at something and didn’t tell them what.

      “You start,” Nora said as she slid over Søren and got out of bed. “I’m opening the wine.”

      “We’re saving that for the reception,” Kingsley reminded her.

      “If this storm doesn’t stop, we’ll all drown by morning and all that wine will have gone to waste.”

      “You make a good point, Elle,” Kingsley said. “I’ll have a big glass. I’ll get in trouble with Jules for hiding from her. I might as well get in trouble with her for drinking, as well.”

      “Why would she be mad at you for drinking?” Nora asked.

      Kingsley grinned broadly. “Because she can’t have alcohol again for seven more months.”

      Nora almost dropped the wine bottle.

      “Juliette’s pregnant?” Nora asked.

      Kingsley raised his finger to his lips. “Only you two know now.”

      Nora ran to Kingsley and embraced him. “You slut,” she said, planting a kiss on both cheeks.

      “She wanted two,” Kingsley said. “And le prêtre doesn’t look a bit surprised.”

      “I’m trying to look surprised,” Søren said with a sly smile.

      “You knew?” Nora asked.

      “Juliette and I were working on something together recently. She got light-headed and almost fainted. She told me why she wasn’t feeling well in exchange for me not calling an ambulance for her.”

      “And you didn’t tell me?” Nora asked, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pointing at his nose. “You jerk.”

      “I’m a priest. Keeping secrets is my job,” he reminded her, taking her hands off his shirt and kissing them. He looked from her to Kingsley. “I’m very happy for you. And relieved you finally said something so I could tell you that.”

      “Are you happy?” Nora asked Kingsley, already knowing the answer.

      “Is the pope Catholic?” Kingsley asked.

      “Pope Francis is a Jesuit,” Søren said.

      “And Catholic,” Kingsley said.

      “Being a Jesuit takes precedence,” Søren said.

      Nora sighed. “Typical. So typical.”

      Søren got out of bed and stood in front of Kingsley. He grasped the back of Kingsley’s neck, bent down and kissed him. Nora went back for the wine and let them have their moment of privacy. She opened the Syrah and poured three steep glasses. She brought one to Kingsley, one to Søren and kept one for herself.

      “When are you telling Nico he’s going to be a brother again?” Nora asked as she slid back onto the bed, careful not to spill any wine on the sheets. They’d already pushed their luck with fire-play and very wet sex. If she got her deposit back on this room, it would be a miracle.

      “Soon,” Kingsley said. “Now that you both know, I’ll call him tomorrow. You think he’ll be happy?”

      “Thrilled and relieved,” Nora said. “The more kids you have, the less pressure he feels to have them. He’s already made Céleste the legal heir to his vineyard. But don’t tell her that. She’s only three, but I can see her attempting a coup.”

      “I’m relieved I won’t have to worry about being a grandfather anytime soon,” Kingsley said with a wink at her. He pushed a pillow behind his back, stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. He had the legs of a professional soccer player, which the kilt displayed to marvelous affect. No wonder Juliette with her fetish and her pregnancy hormones had been all over him the past two days.

      “No chance of that from me,” Nora said. “Cheers to the good Doctor Hélène Faber.” She and Kingsley clinked glasses, which was likely the first time in history two people had ever toasted to a woman’s sterilization procedure before. Then again, no two people in history had Kingsley and Nora’s history. With everything they’d put each other through, they’d had two choices—hate each other or love each other. They were so much alike, hating each other would have been like hating themselves. And both of them were rather too self-important for that sort of nonsense.

      So they picked love.

      “I have you to thank for my children,” Kingsley said, pointing his wineglass at her. “All two and one-third of them.”

      “And why is that?”

      “I would never have known

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