Little Secrets:Unexpectedly Pregnant(24)

Tyce gripped the counter and tipped his head back, thinking that if he  watched her, he'd lose it completely. His chest heaved and beads of  sweat popped on his skin. This, Sage, being loved by her, was all his  fantasies and wishes and hopes and dreams coming true.         

     



 

Oh, it wasn't just about the sex-which was terrifyingly fantastic-but  all of this. She was in his studio and she'd said everything he most  needed to hear about his art, had placed his past actions into  perspective, had opened up a new world to him. He wanted this, all of  it. He wanted her in his life, to be a big part of hers, he wanted to  raise their baby together. That much he knew... There would be no  thinking about this in the morning.

He needed her. He always had.

Tyce gripped her shoulders, pulled her up and slapped his mouth on hers.  In between hot and heavy kisses, they managed to pull their clothes  off, scattering them across his paint-splattered floor. When they were  both naked, Tyce locked his arms beneath her bottom and lifted her up,  sighing when her slim legs encircled his waist. Unable to wait, he  pushed her down and he slid into her, wet and warm and wonderful.

Sage gasped and Tyce saw stars behind his eyes. Not convinced that his  knees weren't about to buckle, he rested her against his oil painting,  and Sage's head fell back. Tyce stopped and looked at her, eyes closed,  long hairs falling through the still-wet paint of his creation, her  milky shoulders against the various shades of blue.

Knowing that he couldn't hold on for much longer, Tyce commanded Sage to  open her eyes. When she did, he sighed and fell a little deeper in  love. "I want to watch your eyes as you come. But do it soon, please?"

Sage pressed down, her butt sliding down the canvas, and he sunk even  farther into her. She gasped, yelled and contracted around him and he  was lost.

Then he spun away into a vortex of a million shades of blue.



The next morning, Tyce walked Sage to the taxi and she noticed the amusement in his eyes as he pulled a cap over her head.

"What?" she mock demanded, thinking that he looked, if it was possible,  ten times sexier than he had last night. He had rings around his eyes,  so did she since they hadn't spent much time sleeping, but the shadows  in his eyes were gone.

"I was just thinking about the streaks of French ultramarine on your  butt," he told her, laughter rolling through his expression.

Sage frowned at him. "I'm more upset that you destroyed your painting than I am about some oil paint on my ass."

Last night, when they came up for air and were marginally functional,  Sage felt the wet paint on her bottom and had whirled around to look at  the painting, which now sported a perfect imprint of her butt cheeks.  Instead of being upset about his ruined painting, Tyce had cried with  laughter.

"I'll do something with it," Tyce told her, lifting his hands to cradle  her face. "Maybe. Or I might just keep it as a reminder of the best sex  of my life. And the best conversation."

Sage smiled and curled her gloved hands around his strong wrists. "Just remember that I think you are fabulous."

Tyce lifted one arrogant eyebrow but she saw the hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "A fabulous artist?"

"Just all round fabulous."

Tyce smiled, lowered his mouth to hers and gently kissed it. His mouth  held a hint of passion but it went deeper than that; she could taste his  promises, the suggestion of a future together. The hope that this time  they could make it work, that they could be better and braver.

"What's your plan of action for the day?" Tyce asked her when he lifted his mouth from hers.

"Um... I have a client meeting at Ballantyne's and then I'm heading home  as I have to finish the Saudi princess's ring." Sage glanced at the  taxi driver. He wasn't looking impatient yet so she had a minute or two.  "And your plans?"

"When you fell asleep, I started to think about all the work I'm dying  to do so I might hole up here and just...work. Fall into that zone."

Sage smiled, immediately understanding what he was trying to say. "So,  if you don't answer my calls or respond to my texts I mustn't panic?"

"That okay with you?"

Sage smiled and nodded. "Very okay. Let me know when you come up for  air. But it had better be before Thursday morning as we have a ten  o'clock appointment with Dr. Charles, the obstetrician."

"Day after tomorrow at ten. No problem," Tyce told her. "I'm pretty sure  that my need to have you again will bring me back to the land of the  living way before then."

Sage stood on her toes to slant her mouth over his in a hot, openmouthed kiss. "Can't wait. Have fun."

Tyce opened the passenger door to the taxi and when she was seated, he  bent down to kiss her again. His fabulous eyes were full of mischief  when he pulled back. "Oh, and maybe I should tell you that you have blue  streaks running through the back of your hair."         

     



 

He slammed the door shut but Sage could still hear his laughter. She  pushed her hat off her head and pulled a hank of hair in front of her  face. Lifting her eyes upward, she immediately noticed the strands of  French ultramarine.

Dammit! She spun around to look out through the window at Tyce and saw  that he was looking down, his eyes on the screen of his phone.

Ten seconds later her phone buzzed with an incoming text.

Want to come back? I'm have this idea of tossing paint onto a canvas and  rolling around in it with you. It would be a piece for my very private  collection.

Sage smiled, shuddered with longing and flipped another look over her shoulder but Tyce had gone back into his building.

So tempted, Sage typed back, But I doubt the Saudi princess, or my boss  brother, would understand me blowing off a meeting with one of our  biggest clients to play with paint. Rain check?





Eleven

"Do you want to get some coffee?" Tyce asked Lachlyn as they left the  small, warm studio and stepped into the icy wind barreling down the  street. Lachlyn had asked him to meet her at a new gallery she'd  discovered, thinking that he'd enjoy the eclectic pieces sourced from  all over the world. He had.

"Sure." Lachlyn looked around. "There's a coffee shop at the end of the block."

"Sage's apartment is around the corner. She's at a meeting at Ballantyne HQ but her coffee is fantastic."

Lachlyn nodded her agreement and they started walking in the direction of Sage's apartment. "How is Sage?" she asked.

"Fine. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, because when you told me you were moving in with her after her  accident, you said it would just be for a couple of days. It's been a  couple of weeks and you're still there. Did she crack her spine or is  her arm paralyzed?"

Tyce narrowed her eyes at his sister. "Smart-ass."

But it was fair question. Why was he still living with Sage? Every day  he made the trek to Brooklyn, worked in his studio and at night he made  his way back to SoHo. It was because making love with Sage was like a  Class A drug and he was hooked. He couldn't imagine a day without her in  it, not waking up next to her, exploring her body every night. God,  that sounded like he was...

No, don't say it, don't think it. His need to be with her had nothing to  do with the L-word, or a future they could spend together, a life they  could make. He was still the reserved, taciturn, need-to-be-alone artist  he always was.

Except that his actions, every damned day, contradicted his words. Crap.

"So, what did you think of The Den?" he asked in a deliberate attempt to  change the subject. They hadn't had any time to talk about her meeting  the Ballantynes and how she felt about her new family. Talking about The  Den, and Lachlyn's extensive tour of the house with Jo, Linc's mother,  was his way of easing into that conversation.

"Oh, Tyce...it's definitely the most amazing house I've ever seen."  Lachlyn shoved her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow and snuggled  in. "There is a Picasso hanging in a small sitting room, Lalique  glassware everywhere and, I swear, what I thought might be a Fabergé  egg."

Remotely possible but not likely, Tyce thought.

"You only saw the one lounge and the formal dining room but Linc and  Tate mostly use a massive room that's as normal as any I've seen. There  were toys on the floor, drawings on the fridge. Okay, admittedly, most  people don't have purple crayons squished into Persian carpets but I  liked that room. I could see that Tate and Linc lived there."

Lachlyn continued her description of the iconic brownstone occupied by  generations of Ballantynes and he let her ramble because he was  interested in the house Sage grew up in. His ears pricked up at the  mention of Linc's state-of-the-art gym and climate-controlled wine  cellar in the basement.

"And Sage?" Tyce asked, his heart picking up speed. "What did you think of her?"

Sage and Lachlyn were the two women who were going to be in his life for  a long, long time. It was important that they liked each other. And  they were also now part of the same family. That was important too.