Page 49 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part Two

Christoph clears his throat, glancing around the box.

A small kitchen lies to our immediate right, replete with a sideboard currently overflowing with snacks and drinks.

Monitors with active live feeds to the track below are situated on each wall, with a small seating area under each.

Two rows of bench-style seating edge the far windows with direct views of the track below.

The box is completely glassed-in, layered in protection spells, and currently darkened for privacy.

“Mirth.” Christoph touches my back gently.

I wanted to continue holding his hand as we walked from the clubhouse, but didn’t.

I meet Christoph’s steady, verging-on-intense gaze, stepping just a little closer than appropriate.

Because I like the way he looms over me.

I try to match his serious tone, but with just a little lightness. “Christoph.”

His brow furrows, then smooths when he picks up my teasing tenor. He presses his fingertips into my back a little more firmly, then flattens his hand so it covers my entire lower back.

I know it’s not terribly progressive of me, but I still love, absolutely adore, that I’m so tiny next to him.

“I’ve never …” He clears his throat quietly. Again.

“You’ve never?” I echo playfully. I like watching his throat move when he swallows.

“Right, yes. I’ve never …”

I hear his hesitation then. And finally, it filters into my silly brain what he might be trying to say. My eyes fly up to meet his. “You’ve never?!”

He flushes. “No. I mean, yes, of course. I’ve had sex. Tried it a few different … when I wasn’t … when it wasn’t what I thought it should be … what everyone else seems to think it …”

“We don’t have to talk about this,” I say quietly.

“I want …” He runs a hand through his hair, his bicep flexing so much that it appears to be about to rip through his suit jacket.

Oh, fuck, I’m ogling him. Again. He’s trying to tell me something, about sex, or not being interested in a sexual relationship. And I’ve completely misunderstood.

Except how could I have misunderstood? With the peaches, the handholding. He stroked my ass in the car park! I’ve clearly read too much into all of that. Or maybe it’s going too fast for him.

I take a step back, leveling my gaze on his chest, then his shoulder, because I’m not sure I can look him in the eye. Mortification floods through me. I take another measured step back. “I … I’m … so sorry. I … would never …” I press my hands to my face. This is why he asked Roz for a moment alone.

“Mirth?”

I drop my hands. I get a fucking hold on myself. Breathing in, then lifting my chin and smiling. “Christoph?”

“Don’t fucking do that,” Christoph says, pained.

I narrow my eyes at him because that sounds an awful lot like an order.

“Listen …” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m not great with words. I’m not expressing myself very well.”

“I understood perfectly. Thank you for clarifying.”

“I haven’t fucking said anything yet, Mirth. And you’re doing that thing, that thing that twists through my chest, so obviously you don’t understand what I haven’t even said yet.”

I blink a little, not completely following.

“See?” he growls. Then, hands on hips, he huffs.

“Why did you watch?” I cry out before I can censor myself.

“Watch?”

“Elias … and me … this morning …” Ugh, now my chest is aching too.

Christoph rears back a bit, blinking at me in disbelief.

“Because it was fucking hot! So fucking hot I had to leave to jerk off in the shower. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve needed to regularly jerk off?

Let alone had to remove myself so I didn’t just …

whip it out and come all over your tits without invitation? ”

I just stare at him, incredibly confused. But also surprisingly aroused.

Christoph cups his hand over his mouth, closes his eyes, and exhales heavily. “Fuck,” he mutters. “This … this is what I don’t know how to do. The … wooing part.”

“Well,” I say, my voice a little shaky, “it seems slightly rushed, seeing as we’ve barely kissed. But would you like an open invitation to come all over my tits?”

He drops his hand away from his mouth, pinning me in place with golden eyes that blaze with his inner beast. It’s the first I’ve seen of his bear. Even last night at the theater, Christoph was perfectly in control.

He reaches for me. I step into his hold. He trails his fingers up my spine, applying a little extra pressure to the back of my rib cage and up, so I arch obligingly. His golden gaze drops to my breasts, as tiny as they are, and he hums appreciatively.

“So …” My words are awfully breathy for someone who’s barely been touched. “You were saying … something … important … about sex?”

Those golden eyes flick to meet mine. “You’re short, Mirth.”

“Maybe you’re too tall!”

He chuckles. “Maybe.”

“I’m perfectly average sized … except for some rounder … areas.”

Christoph steps into me, still not quite pulling me flush to his body, and runs his hand down my back again, firmly now, palming my ass.

My knees go just a little weak. Warmth floods through my core. I grip his shoulders to keep upright.

He drops his head, ghosting his nose up my neck. Ever obliging, I open it up to him. He inhales deeply right behind my ear.

Sharp, almost painful desire slices through me. I can’t help the gasp that escapes me.

“Wanna make out?” he asks, all playful now.

“Yes.”

He guides me with little touches on my hips until I’m up against the wall and he’s crowding over me, doing that thing that he probably doesn’t even know he does. Blocking out the rest of the world. His hands shift on my hips again, tugging up my dress a little.

“So tiny,” he says. “My little awry.”

Then he picks me up under my thighs, sliding my back against the wall and helping me hook my legs around his waist. To even up our heights.

He doesn’t press into me. He hasn’t actually pulled my dress up enough to even do so.

But he does palm my ass again, with both hands this time, hovering his mouth over mine.

We breathe each other in for a moment. Then I angle my head just enough to kiss him.

And he trembles …

It’s subtle, but he shudders under my touch.

“Is it just the bond, then?” I ask, slightly worried but totally prepared for his answer. “Are you just reacting to the bond?”

“Don’t much feel like kissing any of the others,” he says, pressing a firm kiss to my lips this time.

I move my lips against his, over and over. Slow, languid, closed-mouth kisses. I wrap my arms around his neck, threading my hands through his hair as much as I can.

He rumbles in pleasure. So I comb my blunt nails up the back of his neck and through his hair again, sucking on his upper lip.

He teases the seam of my mouth with his tongue, and I open just enough to swipe my own tongue across his. He moans again.

Desire threads through me, thickening between us.

Christoph starts kneading my ass.

I gasp into his mouth. “Oh, fuck. Oh, I … maybe that’s a little …” I squirm in his hold, trying to get closer, to rub against him, but I’m hampered by my bunched skirt.

He breaks the kiss, panting slightly. “A little … much?”

He’s still got two handfuls of my ass. I’m foggy with desire. “I really want you to fuck me up against this wall.”

He swallows harshly. “So … right. Public space … the others are near …”

Now that he’s said it, I can feel that through the bond as well. I groan, completely disappointed. Then I flush a little at my utter wantonness.

He chuckles, slowly easing his grip on my ass.

I press forward, needing another kiss before he sets me on my feet. He angles his head, tangling his tongue with mine again. And for far too brief a moment, he presses into me, shoving my dress up just enough to settle between my legs and rub his hard cock … once, twice … against my core.

I moan. Loudly.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’m so fucking hard. I don’t think I’ve ever …”

He shakes his head as if to clear it. Then he gently shifts me down his body and steadies me on my feet.

I resist the urge to palm his hard, huge cock — denying that to myself is actually painful — before he steps away, running both hands through his hair now.

“It’s not … generally like that for you?” I ask quietly. “Because … it never was like that for me either … well, before … before …”

He flashes me a shaky grin. “I’m not jealous, Mirth.

I’m fucking … ecstatic. Watching you kiss Sully that night in the hot tub, watching you let Eli lick you to orgasm.

That’s … even if you didn’t want to make out with me, there’s a reason for each of us within this bond.

So yeah, a bit of it has to be the intensity of the bond, but not all of it. ”

“Eli thinks losing Armin has forced the timeline a bit.”

He nods. “All of us coming together at once is a lot for you to handle.”

Rian flits through my mind. “For more than just me.”

Christoph sighs, then gently cuddles me against his chest. He’s still hard, but I don’t wiggle or rub against him. Yes, I’m a fucking saint. “You already had a bond with Sully, didn’t you?”

“I pushed him away,” I mumble into Christoph’s chest. “After Armin died.”

“And Bolan?”

“I’m mad at him. Perpetually.”

Christoph hums doubtfully. “Doesn’t seem to have stopped you two from strengthening the bond.”

I hide my smile. “I can fuck him and still be mad.”

“Good to know.” He chuckles. “The point is, it feels overwhelming because it is sudden. But other than coming together, nothing else needs to be rushed.”

I lean back in his arms exaggeratedly, making him hold me upright. “But we can still make out, right?”

He laughs involuntarily, leaning over to kiss me.

Then Bolan and Sully are shoving their way through the door. Without pulling me from Christoph’s embrace, both kiss me soundly hello. I’m gasping for breath and pressed up against Christoph — my back to his front — by the time they’re done with me.

Then Bolan makes a break for the snack buffet.