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.