Little Secrets:Unexpectedly Pregnant(18)

He just looked and then looked some more, his concentration breaking  when Sage's hand danced across her stomach and headed lower. Oh, hell,  no, giving her pleasure was his job.

Tyce quickly shucked his pants, his mind swirling with possibilities.  Missionary sex was out, as was her kneeling on top of him. Hell, he  doubted that he'd even get inside her but that was okay. Giving Sage  pleasure, rocketing her to an orgasm, was more important than him  getting off.

Naked now, Tyce slid his fingers between her folds, dazed by her wet  warmth. It was such a turn-on to know she wanted him as much as he  wanted her. They'd messed up so often but this truly was what they did  best.

Sage's fingers pressed his onto her most sensitive spot. "I need you, Tyce. I need this."

Her low, slow and sexy words sent more blood, if that was possible, to  his already throbbing erection. Sage's hand moved to her side and she  encircled him and Tyce was quite certain that if she kept up that  squeezing, stroking action, he'd lose it.

But, judging by her trembling limbs and her flushed body, her desperate  eyes, Sage was hovering on the edge, as well. Tyce moved so that he was  looming over her, his arms holding his weight off her. Positioning  himself, he rubbed her, his shaft sliding over that bundle of nerves.  Sage moaned her approval and he repeated the action, loving her heat and  the friction and hell, just being close to her. Being inside her would  be better but this was almost as good. Tyce lifted one hand and pushed  her hair out of her eyes, wanting to watch her climb. Her eyes met his  and he stepped into the deep, now-foggy blue. She lifted her hips and he  shook his head. "Let me do the work, sweetheart."

"Then get on with it," Sage hissed.

God, he'd forgotten how demanding she could be when she was on the brink  and he wasn't giving her what she wanted. In the past he'd loved to  tease her, taking her, and her temper, higher until she shattered in his  arms.

She was on the brink now, so close. And so was he. Unable to resist,  Tyce pushed himself between her legs, sliding into her hot tight  channel, keeping her legs together so that she didn't put any more  pressure on her coccyx and bruises than necessary. She was hot and tight  and he couldn't move the way he wanted to but he'd deal. He was inside  Sage and he'd stepped into heaven.

Sage moaned and he gently thrust against her, short shallow strokes that  were more erotic than he believed possible. Tyce rested his elbows on  cushions next to her head. He cradled her face and kissed her, his  tongue matching the rhythm of his hips.

He felt Sage's breath quicken, felt her tremble and then felt the gush  of warmth against him, the tightening of her internal walls. That was  all he needed and he tensed as pleasure rocketed through him. He groaned  into Sage's mouth and then again, holding her tight as tremors passed  from her body to his, his to hers.         

     



 

While his brain and body patched itself back together, he stroked Sage's  glorious frame and dropped gentle kisses on her mouth, her cheekbone,  her jaw. His hand stopped when it reached her stomach and his big hand  covered most of her slight bump.

His. The thought came from his heart and skittered through his body. The  baby was his and so was she. Somehow, in whatever form they took, and  on some level they would always be his.



The next morning, Sage stood in her shower and lifted her face up to  receive a blast of hot water. She ached in places she didn't know she  had, good places, places that had been long neglected. Her body felt  like she'd spent the day at a spa, loose and relaxed.

Her mind felt like a turtle trying to walk through peanut butter.

Sage placed her hands on the wall of the shower cubicle and watched the  water swirl around the drain. What were the implications of making love  with Tyce? Was it a once-off thing? What did any of it, all of it, mean?

Sage closed her eyes in frustration and slapped her hand against the  white tiles. What had happened to her ordered, calm life? Three months  ago she felt calm and in charge and one night-one night!-with Latimore  flipped everything around.

Tyce was an amazing lover, but he was also a good man. Good seemed like a  bland word but Sage thought it was underused and misunderstood. Good  didn't mean rich or good-looking; it meant that someone was prepared to  do the right thing, the honorable thing, to take the path less traveled,  even if it flew in the face of convention. Good, to her, meant that he  was responsible, honorable and honest.

She liked him...

Sage sighed. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed his company out of the  bedroom. She spoke more than he did but, over these past few days, Tyce  held up his end of the conversation. They'd discussed movies and  politics, books and, of course, art. Actually, they'd argued about  art... Tyce, surprisingly, had a fondness for the Dutch Golden Age of  painting, artists like Hals and van Baburen, and Sage preferred art from  the twentieth century.

But whether they were talking art or music, spending time with Tyce  was...fun. Stimulating and relaxing at the same time. She felt she could  say anything to him and he wouldn't judge her. Connor was like that and  Sage was reminded of how much alike they were. Strong, alpha, honorable  men. Honest men...about everything. Including their antipathy toward  relationships and commitment.

Like before, Tyce tempted her to open up, to give him more, to delve  beneath the surface of her armor. That was still a very dangerous path  to walk down and she couldn't allow herself to take it. She could not  drop her shields and let him into her heart. That way lay hurt,  disappointment and madness. Tyce had the power, like nobody she'd ever  encountered before, to turn her life upside down. Loving and then losing  him would devastate her and having to interact with him as they raised a  child together would be like trying to dodge asteroid strikes while  walking through the last level of hell.

Frankly, that scenario was best to be avoided. If she was smart she'd  say thanks for the fun time and push him out of her apartment and her  life. She'd done it with other men, not many, and she could do it with  Tyce. But she didn't want to. She wanted more sex, more conversations  and yes, she thought as her stomach growled, more of his fabulous  cooking.

Maybe she could have a fling with him. She could enjoy his body and his  mind and when they ran out of steam, which they would, she'd revert back  to being friends and co-parents because she'd been sensible and kept  her heart out of their interactions.

She could do that, she decided. Connor told her she could do anything she wanted to...

Okay, maybe he hadn't been thinking of her in terms of her having a no  strings fling when he imparted those words of wisdom. But she was a  smart, modern woman and like millions of smart, modern women she knew  that the act of sex was not a declaration of love, commitment or  anything other than the giving and receiving of pleasure.

She could keep her heart out of the equation and stay emotionally protected.

Couldn't she?





Nine

Tyce looked around as Sage finally made an appearance the next morning.  She looked better than she had last night, but her walk down the  cast-iron staircase suggested that she was still feeling a little stiff.  Standing at her sloping windows, he watched her as she headed straight  for the coffee machine, her eyes foggy from sleep. They'd only been  together a few weeks so long ago but some things hadn't changed: the  great sex, obviously, the fact that she squeezed toothpaste from the  middle of the tube and that her brain didn't start to work properly  until after nine and three cups of coffee, now decaffeinated because of  the baby.         

     



 

Tyce looked at his watch. It was bang on nine and he'd been up since  five, had gone to his warehouse to pick up clothes and returned here  before six. He'd then pushed back her furniture and done an hour of Tai  Chi before heading outside for a run. Sage was barely functional.

Tyce walked across the room, his bare feet making no sound on the wooden  floors. "Morning," he said, stopping a foot from Sage's turned back.

Sage yelped, squealed and groaned. She turned around quickly and, hand  on her heart, scowled at him. "Holy crap, Latimore! Scare me to death,  why don't you?"

"Sorry."

Stepping around her, Tyce reached for a cup from the cupboard above the  coffee machine and placed it beneath the spout of the machine. He hit a  button and the air between them filled with the rich scents of very  expensive coffee. For the last few years he'd been living on a budget,  curtailing his expenses, but good coffee was one of the few luxuries  he'd been unable to deny himself.

Sex with Sage, as he'd decided last night when she lay across his chest,  damp and boneless, was another of the necessities of life he couldn't  do without. Speaking of, it had been too long since he'd last kissed  her...

Tyce was just about to place his hands on her hips, lower his mouth to hers, when she spoke.