Page 7 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part Two

“Sully …” I murmur, half-heartedly chastising him.

“Mirth …” he purrs back, sliding off the couch and prowling toward me.

“We haven’t talked about all of this …” I say, swallowing and glancing down at Christoph’s message on my phone.

Sully rests his chin on my shoulder, watching as I take a deep breath, then text back.

I’m uncertain of my schedule this week, Lord Williams.

Please keep me in mind, Your Highness.

“That’s not too much to ask,” Sully whispers against the sensitive skin behind my ear. Then he slides his hand up under my sweater to cup my breast, flicking my quickly hardening nipple through the fabric of my bra. “Is it?”

“No,” I groan, pressing back into his hold. “That’s not too much to ask.”

“Text the poor duke back then, Mir.” Sully kisses me, lightly sucking his way down my neck.

I text back, I will.

“Such a perfect princess,” Sully croons, sliding his other hand down the front of my jeans.

I misplace my phone somewhere between the kitchen and bedroom. And we have to heat the Indian food up … a couple of hours after it gets delivered.

It’s still dark beyond the drawn curtains as I slip out of my bed, leaving Sully sprawled across the other side.

He’s nude, barely covered in a sheet. Forcing myself to keep moving and not just gaze at my best friend like a complete and utterly infatuated idiot, I grab some clothing from the closet.

The two of us finally collapsed into bed — to actually sleep — only a few hours ago.

I shower quickly, avoiding getting my hair wet, then slap on just enough makeup to counter the I’ve-only-had-three-hours-sleep-because-fucking-my-best-friend-is worth-the-exhaustion bags under my eyes.

I tug on some dark-gray, straight-legged jeans I’ve owned long enough for them to go out of style, yet haven’t really worn long enough for them to not feel overly new, and a long-sleeved, tightly knit merino sweater.

I’ll add Sully’s gifted duster and boots over top of it all.

Plus my backpack containing Armin’s ashes.

I slip back out into the dimly lit bedroom.

I’ve let myself get distracted. Not that I could have emotionally handled multiple stops the previous day, and not that I regret any moment I spend with Sully. But —

“You’re leaving me behind?” Sully asks in a gravelly tone from the bed.

I instantly drop the boot I’ve been pulling on, spinning back to the bed, and leaning over to brush a kiss across Sully’s lips. I’m not sure how awake he is, and I don’t want to wake him further if —

His arms close around me as he yanks me across his chest, then rolls over me on the bed.

The kiss is edged in anger and just a bit of betrayal — of him, not from him. And yes, I’m so in tune with him, skin-to-skin, that it’s hard to kiss and not pick up his emotions.

I soften under him, completely submitting even though it’s not in my nature to do so. Sully’s kiss softens, turning playful.

When he finally lifts his head just enough to allow me ownership of my own mouth, I say quietly, “I thought I might be back before you woke.”

“Where are you heading?”

“The Yates country home.”

Sully blinks down at me for a moment, easing back enough to settle beside me instead of pinning me to the bed with his body. “He’s not there.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

I grin at him saucily. “I do have access to that sort of information gathering.”

Sully snorts. “And since when have you used it?”

I sober slightly. “Since I’m not ready for the confrontation Bolan is craving. But I want … to leave a bit of Armin where we spent a lot of happy times.”

“By the pond,” Sully murmurs, searching my gaze for something. “And you want to go alone.”

“I’ll drag Roz with me. But yes.” I hesitate for a moment. “I’ve asked Greg to stay with you.”

Sully frowns, confused.

I add, “Lord Savoy.”

He huffs. But I know he understands that suddenly declaring himself to be fourth in line to the throne to the United European Nation — even if it’s mostly a figurehead position these days — is going to come with a lot of unwanted attention.

I look at him, waiting.

“Mirth …” he mutters. “I’ve got a few more days, at least.” Then he falls back and rubs his face. “Shit, I need to get Fluff and Fizz in the loop. And there is going to be more fucking paperwork to sign.”

“Probably daily for a while,” I say quietly.

His gaze cuts to me, not liking whatever he’s heard in my voice. Then he’s up on one elbow and cupping my face. “I love you.”

I part my lips, slightly surprised. Not at the sentiment, but at the sudden change in —

“I love you,” Sully repeats, his tone hardening. “I fucking love you, Mirth. I don’t want there to be any more space or time lost between us. If that means I need to be Lord Savoy on paper, then so be it. I … love … you.”

“I love you,” I whisper back. I’ve said it to him before, many times. But this time, he looks at me as if I’m saying it for the very first time. And maybe I am.

We just linger there, holding each other’s gazes, his hand cupping my cheek gently.

Then he slowly lowers his head — I meet him halfway — and we brush our lips together.

Pure, undiluted energy passes between us — his and mine.

As if maybe we’re not just pressing flesh to flesh but breathing soul to soul.

“Fine. I won’t ditch Greg,” Sully says, playfully grumbling. “But if I get my stupid shit done … I swear fucking Elias keeps adding to the list … and you aren’t back in town, I’m coming after you.”

“Fair.” I playfully raise an eyebrow and ask, “What list?”

Sully hums quietly, delightedly. “I see I need to distract you just a little longer …”

I shake my head at him. Though I quite enjoyed his method of distracting me when I kept prodding him about the newly minted Savoy bond group yesterday.

Not that I haven’t put a few of the pieces together myself.

Such as ever-so-slyly noting the text exchanges between Sully and Elias, as well as Sully, Bolan, and Christoph.

Not that I read those messages, just the names of the senders.

Speaking of which …

“Do me a favor?” I ask.

“Anything.”

I crawl out of bed, retrieving my phone from the charging station out in the hall, then climbing back into bed with Sully. He’s sitting now, sheet demurely tucked across his lap, but his tan-skinned chest is beautifully bare.

I cuddle next to him, shoulder to shoulder, then hold my phone aloft so we’re both framed within the screen. Then I thumb my contact for Rian.

“Really? Now?” Sully flashes a gleeful smirk at me.

Rian answers before I can respond to Sully.

The light is low enough around him that all I can see is that he’s walking down a wide corridor.

Then he raises the phone to frame his face, already smiling as he fits an earbud into his ear.

He’s wearing a collared lightweight jacket over a thicker knit black sweater, with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Mirth.” Despite the low light, Rian’s smile blazes bright. Then that smile turns slightly questioning as he takes in Sully — who looks completely nude at this angle.

“Rian,” I say, “you’ve met Sully.”

Sully smirks — of course and always — then nods at Rian.

Rian nods thoughtfully back, then shifts his gaze to me.

“You’re not in Lake Thun,” I say.

“Heading to Dublin. Just arrived at the airport, Heathrow. You?”

“London.”

Rian’s gaze flicks to Sully, then back to me. “You’ve made your choice … I thought …”

“Both of you.” My interjection is clumsy, and blunt, but I don’t want the conversation to head off in the wrong direction. “If you’ll have me. If you’ll —”

“Yes,” Rian says.

“No question,” Sully murmurs.

“Just …” Rian’s gaze flicks between me and Sully again. “Just us?”

“No,” Sully says.

“Nothing else has been decided on,” I say, knowing this conversation is necessary but also premature.

“But we’re the only people Mirth is currently fucking,” Sully says, not entirely playful.

Rian nods. “To be determined, I guess.”

“Is that an issue for you?” I ask frostily. Because I might not know all the choices I need to make in the next few weeks, but I’m certainly not going to be told whom I can fuck. “For either of you?”

Sully raises his hands, still not entirely playful.

Rian exhales, scrubbing his free hand over his face.

An announcement comes over the airport speakers near him.

“I’m stalking my fucking mother, who won’t take my calls.

I’m sorry if I’m acting … I’m all in, Mirth.

I have been since the moment you looked my way.

I understand it can’t just be me. That … ” He looks at Sully.

“We’re strongest together,” Sully says.

Rian tilts his head again, listening to the next set of announcements.

“Your flight?” I ask.

“Yes. Mirth, I —”

“You sort out everything you need to sort,” I say gently. “Text me.”

Rian flashes me a grin. “What kind of texts?”

I laugh.

“Are there pictures?” Sully asks, always quick to pick up any and all innuendo. “I need to see pictures!”

“Absolutely not,” I say.

“I’ll send you one of Mirth,” Rian says at the same time.

“What?!” I cry. “Absolutely not —”

“Got to go! Love you, Highness.”

Rian ends the call. I blink at the blank screen for long enough that Sully’s shoulders start to shake against mine in silent laughter.

“Is it the ‘love you’ or the promised exchange of sexy pictures that’s tripping you up, Highness?” he teases, hitting Rian’s pet name for me hard.

“That’s none of —”

Sully makes a grab for my phone, no doubt to search Rian’s text messages. Or get his phone number. We wrestle for it. Sully quickly gets the upper hand, managing to pin me down.

I distract him just as well as he distracted me last night.

I end up having to shower a second time.

And missing breakfast.